Ruin Me, Alpha-Chapter 50: The Alpha’s Imprint

DEVON

Apple juice.

It was crisp, sweet, and cold against the back of my throat. I took another sip, the condensation on the glass wetting my fingertips, and leaned back in the velvet armchair I’d pulled to the side of the bed.

The room was silent, save for the rhythmic hum of the central air and the soft, uneven breathing of the woman in the bed.

Irene.

She was still asleep. The sedative pinch I’d given her back at the engagement party—was it only twelve hours ago?—had been precise. I didn’t use drugs. I didn’t use magic. Just anatomy. But the stress of the night, the emotional toll of seeing me, and the wolfsbane I had pumping into the air had kept her under longer than usual.

I checked my watch. 10:03 AM.

We were making good time. In the real timeline, I hadn’t even known what she looked like, yet... I had caught a glimpse of her during an entreaty and had gotten immediately obsessed.

Then, few days later, I heard she was getting engaged with Voltage which is why I started that war and pinned I on him.

I watched her stir. It started with her fingers, twitching against the high-thread-count sheets. Then her nose wrinkled. A beam of sunlight had managed to slip past the heavy blackout curtains I’d left slightly ajar. It hit her face, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air above her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, a groan vibrating in her throat. She turned her head, trying to burrow back into the pillow, but the scent of the room—my scent, cedar and rain—must have hit her.

Her eyes snapped open.

Amber collided with the unfamiliar ceiling. For a second, she was just a girl waking up, confused and groggy. Then, the memory of the night before crashed into her. I saw it happen. I saw the exact moment the engagement party, the dead guards, and the ride in my SUV replayed behind her eyes.

She sat up.

Or rather, she tried to.

She pushed her palms into the mattress, her shoulders bunching, but her arms gave out halfway. She collapsed back against the pillows with a breathless gasp, her limbs heavy, her coordination shot.

She blinked rapidly, squinting against the light, her head swiveling until she found me.

I didn’t move. I didn’t smile. I just lifted the glass to my lips and took another slow sip of juice, holding her gaze over the rim.

"You," she croaked. Her voice was raspy, dry from sleep.

"Me," I agreed calmly. "Good morning, Irene."

"Where..." She tried to push herself up again, gritting her teeth. This time, she managed to get her torso vertical, but she swayed like a drunkard. She clutched the sheets to her chest, realizing she was still in her sage green dress, though it was wrinkled now. "Where the hell am I?"

"My house," I said. " Specifically, the master suite. I’d offer you the guest room, but I don’t trust you not to jump out of a window yet."

"Take me back," she demanded immediately. It was instinct. Even weak, even disoriented, she was an Alpha’s daughter. "Take me back to the Ironfang territory right now, Devon."

"No."

"I’m not asking!" she shouted, though the volume lacked her usual fire. She swung her legs over the side of the king-sized bed. Her bare feet hit the plush carpet. "My father—Voltage—they’ll come for me. They’ll kill you."

"They can try," I said, bored. "Voltage is currently trying to explain to his council why he let a rival Alpha walk into his engagement party and steal his bride. And your father? Theo is likely halfway through a bottle of scotch, wondering how he’s going to pay off the debts he owes the North now that the wedding is off."

"The wedding isn’t off!" she snapped. She planted her hands on her knees, trying to force her body to stand. "I am going to marry him. I am going to become the Queen of the North, and I am going to use his army to burn this place to the ground! You inclusive."

Ah. I see. Explains why she is going on with the engagement arrangement despite the love of her life, Simon.

She pushed off the mattress.

She stood for exactly one second.

Then her knees buckled.

I didn’t rush to catch her. I didn’t even flinch. I watched as she crumbled, catching herself on the bedside table, knocking over a lamp before sliding down to the floor.

She panted heavily, her red hair falling over her face. She looked at her hands, trembling uncontrollably.

"What did you do to me?" she whispered, looking up at me with pure venom. "You drugged me."

"Not exactly," I said. I placed my glass on the coaster and stood up. I walked over to the sleek, black diffuser humming quietly in the corner of the room. A thin mist curled out of the top, disappearing into the air.

"Wolfsbane," I said. "A liquid concentrate. It’s odorless to humans, barely detectable to wolves until it’s too late. It suppresses the shift. It disconnects your motor functions from your wolf’s strength. It makes you human, Irene. Just a fragile, weak human."

"You’re in the room," she accused, her eyes narrowing. "You’re breathing it, too."

"I am," I said, turning to face her.

"Then why aren’t you on the floor?"

I walked toward her. My steps were steady. My power was beneath my skin, unaffected, unbothered. In this loop, in this cycle of time, the rules of biology seemed to bend around me. Or perhaps I had just built up an immunity thanks to not being real because I am in a loop.

"I’m built different," I said simply.

I stopped in front of her. She was huddled on the carpet, looking up at me like I was the devil himself. She hated me. God, the hatred rolled off her in waves and I should hate him but, it was delicious.

"Get away from me," she spat.

"You’re the one on my floor," I pointed out.

I reached down.

"Don’t touch me!" She swiped at my hand. It was a slow, pathetic strike. I caught her wrist easily, my fingers wrapping around her pulse point. Her skin was warm, her pulse thumping against my thumb.

"Up," I commanded.

I pulled. She didn’t have the strength to resist. I hauled her up from the floor and swung her around, depositing her back onto the edge of the bed to a sitting position. She slumped there, chest heaving, glaring daggers at me.

"You’re a monster," she hissed. "You killed my brother. You ruined my family. And now you think... what? You think you can just keep me here? Kidnap me?"

"I saved you," I corrected, leaning down until my face was inches from hers. "Voltage doesn’t love you, Irene. He wants your bloodline. He wants a breeder for his heirs. He would have broken you within a year."

"And you won’t?" she challenged. "You’re the villain, Devon. Everyone knows it. You’re ruthless. You’re cold."

"I am," I admitted. I placed a hand on the mattress on either side of her, trapping her. "I am all of those things. But I am the only one in this world who actually sees you."

She tried to lean back, but I was too close. Her eyes darted to my lips, then back to my eyes, panic warring with something else. Adrenaline? Fear? arousal?

"I hate you," she whispered. Her voice shook. "I hate you so much it hurts."

"I know," I said softly. "Use it. Hate me. Scream at me. Plot my murder. I don’t care what you feel, Irene, as long as it’s for me. As long as I am the only thing on your mind."

I raised a hand, brushing a stray lock of red hair behind her ear. She flinched, squeezing her eyes shut, anticipating a blow.

When my fingers merely traced the line of her jaw, her eyes fluttered open, confused.

"Why?" she breathed. "Why me? There are a thousand she-wolves who would kill to be in your bed. Why are you so obsessed with me?"

"Because I’ve seen the end of the world," I murmured, my thumb brushing her lower lip. "And you’re the only thing worth saving in it."

She stared at me, her breath hitching. The wolfsbane made her body heavy, compliant, but her mind was still fighting. I could see the war behind her eyes. She wanted to bite me. She wanted to tear my throat out.

But she didn’t pull away.

"You’re insane," she said, but the words lacked bite. They were a plea.

"Maybe," I said. "But I’m yours. Deny it all you want. The bond is there. I can smell it on you. You crave this. You crave the monster because you know the monster will burn the world to keep you warm."

I leaned in closer.

"Tell me to stop," I whispered against her lips. "Tell me to walk out that door, and I will."

It was a lie. I wouldn’t leave. If she told me to stop, I’d just find another way to break her walls down. But she didn’t know that.

She stared at me, her pupils blown wide. She was weak, dizzy from the wolfsbane, overwhelmed by my proximity. Her hatred was a shield, and I was shattering it with nothing but words and presence.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t tell me to stop.

"Good girl," I growled.

I closed the gap.

My lips crushed hers. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t the kiss of a courtly lover. It was a claim. It was possessive, hungry, and demanding. I kissed her like I had died a hundred times just to get back to this moment—because I had.

She stiffened instantly, her hands bunching into fists against my chest. She tried to push me away, a weak, token resistance.

But then, the spark hit.

The bond flared, ignoring the wolfsbane, ignoring the logic, ignoring the history. I felt her gasp into my mouth, her body betraying her mind.

She melted.

It was subtle at first. Her shoulders dropped. Her fists unclenched, her fingers curling into the lapels of my shirt, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away. She made a soft, whimpering sound in her throat, a sound of pure defeat and desire.

I deepened the kiss, my tongue sweeping into her mouth, letting her taste the apple juice she hadn’t had, tasting her anger, tasting her surrender. One of my hands slid up into her hair, gripping the back of her head, tilting her face up to give me better access.

For ten seconds, the world didn’t exist. There was no loop. No countdown. No Voltage. Just Irene, soft and yielding in my arms, kissing the man she hated because her soul recognized what her brain refused to accept.

I pulled back slowly.

Her lips were swollen, red and wet. Her eyes were dazed, heavy-lidded. She looked thoroughly ravished.

She stared at me, horror dawning on her face as she realized what she’d just done. She had kissed the enemy. She had liked it.

"Get out," she whispered, her voice trembling. tears pricked the corners of her eyes. "Get out."

I stood up, adjusting my cuffs, cool and collected as if my heart wasn’t hammering against my ribs.

"Rest, Irene," I said, turning toward the door. "You’ll need your strength. Dinner is at seven. And wear something black."

"I’m not eating with you!" she yelled at my back, finding her voice again.

I paused at the door, glancing over my shoulder with a smirk.

"You will," I promised. "Or I’ll come back and feed you myself."

I walked out and closed the door, the lock clicking into place with a sound that signaled the beginning of the end.

Twenty-three days left.

Was I already winning?