The Alpha Behind The Mask-Chapter 30: Out of impulse

Alpha Oliver’s POV

​I watched her through the corner of my eye as she worked. The way she handled the knife was precise, almost aggressive, as if she were taking out her frustrations on the carrots. Every few seconds, I felt her gaze flicker toward my wrists—looking for something she would never find.

​I suppressed a smirk. Yesterday, I had gone to great lengths to acquire a specialized waterproof concealer, a high-grade formula used by undercover operatives. My tattoo was buried under layers of flesh-toned pigment that wouldn’t budge unless I used the specific chemical neutralizer.

​Why was I lying? The answer was a bitter pill to swallow. Aurora hated the man in the mask. She disliked the Dom who was pursuing her at the club. If she realized the Alpha King and the masked predator were the same man, she wouldn’t just be "closed up"; she would vanish. For the first time in my life, I was playing a double game, and I found myself perversely enjoying the tension of it. I wondered how those big, defiant eyes would look when I finally stripped away the disguise and told her I was Raymond, the masked Dom.

​As I watched the sunlight hit the stray hairs falling across her face, my focus wavered. Usually, I am a cold and powerful king, but standing in this kitchen felt warm and nice—a feeling I hadn’t had since I was a kid.

​I was so distracted by the curve of her neck that I didn’t notice my hand getting too close to a hot iron pot.

​"Ssh—" I hissed as the heat bit deep into my index finger.

​The pain was sharp, but the reaction that followed was sharper. Before I could even pull away, Aurora dropped her knife with a clatter. She moved with a speed that blurred the air, grabbing my hand with surprising strength. Without a word, she brought my burnt finger to her lips and began to suck on it, the cool moisture of her mouth clashing with the stinging heat of the burn.

​My breath hitched. My entire body went rigid as a jolt of electricity shot straight from my finger to my core. It was an act of pure, unthinking impulse.

​She froze. I could see the exact moment reality crashed back into her mind. She pulled back abruptly, her face flushing a deep, brilliant crimson that put the tomatoes on the counter to shame.

​"I—I’m sorry," she stammered, stepping back so quickly she nearly tripped over the kitchen mat. "I’m so sorry. My parents... they used to do that. If one of them got hurt, the other would... it was just a reflex. I forgot myself."

​I stood there, my finger still tingling from the contact, my heart thumping a rhythm that was dangerously out of sync. If I were in the club right now—if I were wearing the mask—I would have grabbed her by the waist, pulled her flush against me, and finished what that touch started. I would have tasted that apology right off her lips.

​But I wasn’t Raymond. I was Alpha Oliver. I had to be the "gentleman" she didn’t believe existed.

​"It’s fine, Aurora," I said, my voice coming out much huskier than I intended. I tucked my hand behind my back to hide the slight tremor in my grip. "It doesn’t hurt anymore."

​I looked at her, seeing her chest heave with panicked breaths. She looked like a deer ready to bolt, terrified of the intimacy she had accidentally created.

​"Finish the vegetables," I commanded softly, trying to steer us back to the safety of the task. "The steak needs to go on, and I’d prefer not to eat it raw."

​She nodded frantically and went back to the cutting board, her hands shaking. I turned back to the stove, the sensation of her lips still searing my skin. This was supposed to be a simple lunch, but as I looked at her, I realized I was the one falling into a trap.

​After we finished cooking, we set the table and sat down to eat. I brought out a bottle of wine, pouring a glass for each of us. As we ate, I found myself watching her—the way she took small, careful bites, the way she seemed to relax just a fraction as she tasted the food.

​My mind was a mess. Was I really just trying to get her into bed? I had never chased a woman like this before. Usually, I took what I wanted without a second thought. But with Aurora, the rules were different, and I couldn’t figure out why I was trying so hard.

​I set my fork down and broke the silence. "Aurora, let me help you with your brother’s medical bills."

​She didn’t even hesitate. "No."

​I frowned, the rejection stinging more than the burn on my finger. "Why? Why are you refusing my help?"

​She looked up, her eyes hard and guarded. "Because one day you’ll want me to pay you back, and I might not be able to give you what you want."

​The implication was clear, and it irritated me. "I won’t ask you to pay me back," I said firmly. "I have more than enough money, Aurora. Taking a million dollars out of my accounts is like taking a single spoonful of water from a massive tank. I’m not boasting; it’s just the truth."

​"Nothing is free in this world," she countered, her voice tight.

​I leaned forward, trying to use my authority to settle the matter. "I am the Alpha King, and you are my subject. I help my subjects. It is my duty."

​Her expression shifted from guarded to defiant. "I don’t belong to any pack. I’m wolfless," she reminded me, her voice trembling slightly with rising emotion. "Please, just leave this alone. I will sort out my own problems."

​I saw the spark of anger in her eyes and the way her jaw set. If I pushed any harder, she would bolt. I realized I was losing ground, so I held up my hands in a silent truce and stopped talking. For a king used to getting his way, the silence felt like a defeat.