The Alpha Behind The Mask-Chapter 92: His Gift
Aurora’s POV
Oliver didn’t give me time to protest. He led me down to the first floor and out toward a secluded, sun-drenched section of the palace driveway. The morning air was crisp, but I was still shivering from the internal cold of my own thoughts.
Suddenly, he stopped and turned to me, his hands resting on my shoulders. "Close your eyes," he murmured.
I frowned, my heart skipping a beat for all the wrong reasons. "Oliver, what are you doing?"
"Trust me," he said, his voice a warm caress that made me feel even more guilty.
I took a breath and obeyed, letting the darkness take over as he held my hand, leading me forward a few more steps. The scent of expensive leather and new tires began to waft through the air.
"Open them," he whispered.
I opened my eyes and gasped. Standing before me, gleaming under the morning sun, was a Ferrari Roma Spider in a deep, breathtaking Rosso Corsa red. Its sleek, feminine curves and aggressive stance made it look less like a machine and more like a work of art. It was easily a $300,000 car.
My brow furrowed in pure shock. I couldn’t even process the sight. "Oliver..."
He smiled, a genuine, hopeful look in his eyes. "It’s yours."
I shook my head immediately, stepping back as if the car were on fire. "No. No, absolutely not. Oliver, I can’t take this."
"Yes, Aurora," he countered, stepping into my space to stop my retreat. "I can’t rest knowing you don’t have a car. You jump from one public transport to another, or you’re walking late at night... my wolf is on edge every second you’re out of my sight."
"This... this is fucking expensive!" I cried, my voice rising in a mix of panic and frustration. "Oliver, I’m an assistant. I can’t drive a quarter-million-dollar Ferrari to the club where I work! Do you have any idea how much attention that draws? People will think I’m—"
"I don’t care what people think," he interrupted, his jaw tightening. "I care that you’re safe. I care that if you need to get away from somewhere fast, you have the horsepower to do it."
"It’s too much," I argued. This car was too bright, too perfect—just like Oliver. "I’m trying to be independent, remember? I told you I didn’t want to rely on your money!"
"This isn’t about dependence; it’s about my peace of mind!" he snapped back, though his eyes remained soft. "Consider it a company vehicle if you have to. But you are driving it, Aurora. I’m not taking it back."
Silence fell between us, thick and heavy.
I shook my head again, frustration building.
"This is too much, Oliver. It’s too big. I told you already—I don’t want to depend on you. I don’t want to feel like I owe you something."
His expression shifted—hurt flashing briefly in his eyes before he masked it.
"This isn’t about control," he said, more quietly now. "And it’s not about you owing me anything."
"Then what is it about?" I asked.
He held my gaze, steady and intense.
"It’s about the fact that I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you," he said. "And knowing I could have prevented it."
My frown deepened. "No, I can’t," I snapped, my voice rising. "Do you even hear yourself? This is a Ferrari. Do you know how much this costs?"
"I know exactly how much it costs," he said calmly.
We stood there, arguing in the middle of the driveway, the King and his stubborn assistant. I looked from his determined face to the beautiful red car. He was trying so hard to protect me, to give me the world, while I was still mourning a man who had treated me like a toy.
I sighed, the fight draining out of me. I stepped forward and touched the cool, polished hood of the Ferrari. The reality of his kindness finally pierced through the fog of my grief.
"You’re impossible," I whispered.
I turned to him, and before he could say another word, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. It was a desperate kiss, a silent apology for the thoughts in my head, and a genuine thank-you for the man standing in front of me. Oliver didn’t hesitate; he pulled me flush against him, his hands gripping my waist as he kissed me back with a hunger that made my heart flutter.
I pulled away just an inch, my forehead resting against his. "Thank you," I breathed. "It’s beautiful."
"Want to test it?" Oliver asked, his eyes dancing with a playful challenge.
"Yes," I breathed, the word coming out before I could even talk myself out of it.
He hopped into the driver’s seat, and I slid into the passenger side. My hand trembled slightly as I ran my fingers over the dashboard. I still couldn’t believe this was mine—it felt like a dream that would disappear if I breathed too hard.
He looked over at me, a soft smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Do you know how to drive, Aurora?"
"Yes, I do," I said, a bit defensively. "I’ve had my license since I was nineteen."
"Okay," he said with a chuckle, "but this is a little different. It’s a monster under the hood."
He spent the next few minutes explaining the controls, his voice calm and steady. He talked about the paddle shifters, the drive modes, and the sensitivity of the brakes. I barely heard a word about the mechanics; I just sat there and admired him. The way his jaw moved when he spoke, the focused glint in his blue eyes, and the sheer authority he radiated even when he was just explaining a car. I was falling more for this man every second, a deep, terrifying pull that made me want to bury my past and never look back.
He started the engine, and the Ferrari roared to life—a deep, guttural purr that vibrated through my very bones. He drove out of the palace gates slowly, keeping a steady, careful speed so he wouldn’t overwhelm me. I watched his hands on the steering wheel—strong, capable hands that had held me during the crash and comforted me this morning.
Eventually, we reached a deserted stretch of road near the edge of the pack territory, shielded by towering pines and the morning mist. He pulled over to the side and brought the car to a stop, the engine idling like a restless beast.
"What do you think?" he asked, turning to face me.
I didn’t answer him with words. The adrenaline of the drive and the overwhelming weight of his kindness suddenly snapped something inside me.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and moved before he could even react. I jumped onto his lap, my legs straddling his hips as I crashed my lips against his. Oliver let out a low, surprised groan, his hands instinctively flying to my waist to steady me. He reached over and hit the lever, pushing the driver’s seat as far back as it would go, giving us just enough space in the cramped, luxurious cockpit.
The kiss was desperate, frantic. I poured everything into it—my guilt, my gratitude, and the desperate hope that he could save me from myself. His hands moved up my back, his fingers digging into my skin through my thin blouse, pulling me closer until there wasn’t a breath of air between us.
"Aurora," he growled into my mouth, his voice thick with a hunger that made my toes curl.
He broke the kiss for a second, his forehead resting against mine as we both panted for air. His eyes were dark, swirling with a mix of raw desire and that intense protectiveness that was so uniquely him.
"You have no idea," he whispered, his thumb tracing my jawline, "how much I’ve wanted to do this since you walked into my office this morning."
Butterflies flapped in my stomach. "Then do it," I whispered against his lips.
He didn’t need another invitation. His mouth crashed back onto mine, his tongue sweeping inside with a possessive hunger that stole the very breath from my lungs. I let out a low, broken moan, my fingers tangling in his red hair, pulling him closer as the world outside the tinted windows ceased to exist.
I was wearing a skirt, and it had already bunched up around my thighs as I straddled him. As we kissed, I reached down, my hand trembling as I found his large, warm hand and guided it toward the hem. I didn’t have the words, but my body was screaming for him, desperate to feel him inside me.
Oliver understood instantly. He slid his hand beneath the fabric, lifting the skirt higher. His fingers grazed the lace of my panties before he shifted them aside. Slowly, almost agonizingly so, he inserted a single finger into my wet, tight pussy.
I let out a sharp, choked gasp into the kiss, my head reeling as a bolt of pure electricity shot through my spine. I arched my back, pressing myself more firmly against his hand, and kissed him harder, my tongue dancing with his in a frantic rhythm. He kept moving, his thumb finding my most sensitive spot with a precision that made me whimper, my core becoming slicker and more desperate with every stroke.
I was falling apart in his arms, the pleasure coiling tightly in my stomach until I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled back, breaking the kiss to grab his face in both of my hands. My chest was heaving, my eyes searching his.
"Oliver," I panted, my voice thick with a need I could no longer deny. "I want you."
He looked at me, a flicker of confusion crossing his handsome features, his hand pausing its rhythmic movement for just a second. "Aurora..." he said, like he wasn’t sure if this was real.
I took a shaky breath and said the words I never thought I would say to anyone—words I meant with every broken fiber of my being.
"I want you to make love to me."
