Alpha's Dark Desires

Chapter 219: New Distraction

Elena – POV

I stared at the door like it had personally betrayed me.

He was gone.

Just like that.

One second I was on the edge of begging—no, I was begging—and the next, he had pulled away like I was nothing more than a craving he could resist on a whim.

The bastard.

My lips were still swollen. My thighs, still trembling. My robe was still somewhere on the goddamn floor.

And he just... walked out.

Again.

I let out a scream—frustrated, primal, furious—and grabbed the nearest object, which happened to be a pillow, and launched it at the door. It bounced harmlessly off the wood, making me even angrier.

"How dare he," I hissed to the empty room, pacing like a caged animal. "How fucking dare he."

He had me. Right there. Open, vulnerable, willing. I’d dropped every wall, every ounce of pride I had left, and gave him the one thing I never let him see—my hunger for him. And what did he do?

Walk away.

Cool as ever. Unbothered. Probably smirking on his way to some stupid council meeting while I was left standing here feeling like a fool with soaked panties and a gaping need he started and didn’t have the damn courtesy to finish.

I clenched my fists, fury bubbling under my skin like wildfire.

This was the last time.

The last damn time I’d let him get under my skin like that. The last time I’d let him wind me up, heat me up, unravel me only to leave me gasping and alone.

Never again.

Next time he tried to touch me, I’d bite him.

Literally.

"Hope your fucking meeting is worth it," I muttered, dragging on a fresh robe and tightening the sash so hard it almost cut off my oxygen. "Hope all the posturing and dick-measuring with the other Alphas gives you the same satisfaction you almost gave me."

Gods, I was still throbbing.

Still soaked.

Still needy in a way that made me hate myself. Made me feel like I was losing the one thing I had left—control.

But not again.

No more chasing the tension. No more letting his touch override my mind. I wasn’t going to fall into his web again only to be yanked back to reality when he decided his tyranny mattered more than I did.

From now on?

I was the one in control.

Let him come back.

Let him try to tease, to seduce, to dominate me again.

He’d find the door locked.

My claws out.

And the part of me that wanted him? That part could go to hell.

Because the next time I let him in—it wouldn’t be as the predator.

It would be as my prey.

********

I needed to do something.

Anything.

Because if I sat here in this room stewing in my own frustration any longer, I was going to combust.

Literally combust.

I stripped out of the second robe I’d already yanked too tight, shoved open my closet, and grabbed the blackest, fiercest outfit I owned—tight black leather pants that clung to me like a second skin, and a sleeveless top that barely counted as armor but screamed try me, motherfucker. A quick glance in the mirror told me I looked dangerous. Good.

Let him see what he walked away from.

Let him choke on the sight of me.

I pulled my hair into a high ponytail, fastened my boots like I was prepping for war, and added a slash of blood-red lipstick—not because I needed it, but because it made me feel like I could bite throats and smile while doing it.

Every move I made crackled with coiled fury.

This wasn’t about vanity. This was about control. About taking back the power Damon had yanked from me every time he looked at me like I was already his.

He thought I was weak? Thought I’d fall into his bed just because my body begged for it?

Fine.

Let him think that. Let him think I was a sweet, pliant little mate he could ignore and pick back up whenever he pleased.

Let him think.

Because I was done playing prey.

I marched straight into the training room, ignoring the startled glances of the betas and gammas milling around. One poor idiot tried to say something, but the look I shot him had him practically tripping over his own feet to get out of my way.

I grabbed a pair of daggers off the weapons wall, stepped into the ring, and let loose.

Strike. Slash. Spin.

I moved like a storm — like rage bottled into skin and breath and bone. Every cut through the air was Damon’s smirk. Every thrust, his voice whispering filth into my ear. Every pivot, his hand between my thighs, pulling away too soon.

I’d show him what happens when you leave a woman wanting.

By the time I was done, the training mat was slick with sweat, and the room was empty. No one dared approach.

Good.

Because I wasn’t done yet.

I wiped my face on a towel, then tossed it aside like my patience.

Tonight, I would wait.

Not as a woman hoping for him to return.

But as a storm on the verge of breaking.

Let him walk through that door.

Let him smirk.

Let him say one thing—one cocky, self-satisfied, condescending thing.

I was going to burn him alive with every drop of heat he lit in me.

And this time?

He’d beg me.

I needed a distraction.

A real one. Not the kind where I kept replaying Damon’s voice in my head and fantasizing about strangling him with his own damn tie.

No.

I needed blood pumping, fists flying, and maybe a little harmless flirting to remind myself I was still me. That I wasn’t some moth to his flame, constantly getting singed.

I headed to the outdoor training field this time, a few new warriors gathered there for drills. Most were strangers — recent transfers, judging by the nervous glances and stiff postures. Perfect.

Fresh faces.

No baggage.

No brooding kings with sinful smirks and god complexes.

I stepped onto the mat and was stretching when I felt it — that subtle awareness of someone watching me.

I looked up.

He was tall, lean muscle stretched over a frame that moved like a dancer — graceful, lethal. His hair was a deep brown, messy in a way that looked intentional, and his eyes... sea-glass green, bright and open in a way that was dangerously not Damon.

Not guarded. Not smug.

Warm.

He blinked when he realized I’d caught him staring, then had the nerve to grin — a crooked, boyish thing that made my stomach flutter in the most inconvenient way.

"Didn’t mean to stare," he said, walking over with a sparring staff slung over his shoulder. His voice was smooth, casual — like I hadn’t just been about to start murdering a punching bag in private peace.

"Then don’t," I said, half teasing, half threatening.

He laughed. "I’ll try. But you make it difficult."

Okay, what the hell?

I blinked, thrown off by the boldness, by the normalcy of it. It felt so foreign after the constant battle of wills with Damon. This guy wasn’t trying to control me, or manipulate me. He was just... talking.

Flirting, even.

And it was working.

A little.

"I’m Elena," I said before I could stop myself.

"Luca," he replied, offering a hand. His grip was firm, confident — but not overbearing. "New transfer from the North Crescent pack."

I nodded. "You any good?"

"At what?"

I smirked. "Not making a fool of yourself."

He let out a low laugh. "Guess we’ll find out."

We sparred — light drills, but Luca was skilled. Quick on his feet. He kept pace with me, challenged me without being cocky. And when he did manage to disarm me once with a smooth sweep of his staff, he didn’t gloat. He just offered a hand and a smile.

It was... nice.

It felt good.

Normal.

And when our arms brushed one too many times, when his hand lingered a second too long on my lower back as we reset positions — I didn’t pull away.

I didn’t feel guilty.

I felt powerful.

Damon had left me hanging.

Luca was hanging on my every move.

When the session ended, sweat dripping down both of us and my pulse racing for reasons beyond just physical exertion, he looked at me and said, "Same time tomorrow?"

I hesitated. Then nodded.

"Sure."

As he walked away, I watched the sway of his shoulders, the easy grace in his step, and allowed myself the smallest wicked smile.

I didn’t owe Damon anything.

Let him play his war games.

Two can play at distraction.

Damon had left me hanging. noveldrama

Luca was hanging on my every move.

When the session ended, sweat dripping down both of us and my pulse racing for reasons beyond just physical exertion, he looked at me and said, "Same time tomorrow?"

I hesitated. Then nodded.

"Sure."

As he walked away, I watched the sway of his shoulders, the easy grace in his step, and allowed myself the smallest wicked smile.

I didn’t owe Damon anything.