The Alpha Behind The Mask-Chapter 63: Not Letting You Go

Aurora’s POV

​The walk through the packhouse was a blur of whispered conversations and stinging stares. Every member of the staff, every warrior in the hall, had their eyes glued to us. I could feel the heat of the gossip already spreading—the Alpha King had physically hauled his assistant out of a restaurant.

​We stepped into his private elevator. The silence inside was thick, broken only by the hum of the lift ascending. I was fuming, my hands clenched into tight fists at my sides. Oliver didn’t say a word; he just stared at the polished metal doors, his profile as hard as granite.

​When the doors chimed at the top floor, he strode out toward his office. I followed him, my heels clicking sharply against the floor like gunfire. I didn’t stop at my desk. I followed him straight into his inner sanctum, slamming the heavy mahogany door behind me so hard the windows rattled.

​Oliver didn’t flinch. He walked behind his desk, took off his watch, and tossed it onto the blotter with a casual click. He looked settled. He looked like he had won. I decided then to do something stupid. I knew it was reckless. I knew it might ruin me, but I was tired. I was exhausted by the games and the way my heart traitorously hammered every time he touched me.

​"I’m resigning," I said, my voice remarkably clear.

​Oliver’s hand, which had been reaching for a fountain pen, froze in mid-air. The room went deathly still.

​"I can’t do this anymore," I continued, stepping closer to his desk. "I can’t be your ’assistant.’" I can’t be a pawn in whatever war you’re having with Oscar. I’m done. I’ll drop my formal letter before the end of the day."

​He slowly looked up. The playful smirk from the sidewalk was gone, replaced by a cold, predatory stillness that made my breath hitch. He didn’t look like a boss who had just lost an employee; he looked like a wolf who had just seen his prey try to leap the fence.

​"Resigning?" he repeated, the word sounding like a threat in his low, gravelly voice.

​"Yes. Effective immediately," I snapped, turning toward the door. "Good luck finding someone else to carry through restaurants."

​"Sit down, Aurora," he commanded. The Alpha power in his voice hit me like a physical wave, but I fought it. I kept my hand on the doorknob.

​"No. I don’t work for you anymore. You have no power over me."

​Oliver stood up slowly, his tall frame blocking the light from the window. He moved with the blur of a predator that had finally lost its patience. Before I could even turn the handle of the door, he was there. His hand slammed against the wood above my head, and with a sharp, controlled movement, he hoisted me up and pinned me back against the edge of his heavy mahogany table.

​I gasped, my hands flying to his shoulders to push him away, but it was like trying to move a mountain. His body was a wall of heat and hard muscle, trapping me.

​"You think you can just leave?" he growled, his face inches from mine. His blue eyes were dark, swirling with a storm of emotions he had kept locked away for too long. "After you have completely messed with my head, Aurora, you think you can just walk out that door?"

​"I haven’t done anything to you!" I yelled back, my heart hammering so hard it felt like it would burst through my ribs. "You’re the one playing games! You’re the one who treats me like I’m nothing one minute and then kidnaps me the next!"

​"You’ve done everything!" he roared, the sound vibrating through my very bones. He leaned in closer, his grip on the table on either side of my hips tightening. "Do you have any idea what it’s like? Every single day, I sit here trying to work, and all I can think about is you. Every time you walk past my desk, every time I hear your voice, I lose my focus."

​His voice dropped to a pained, jagged whisper. "I think about that kiss, Aurora. Every. Single. Day. I can still taste you. I can still feel the way you leaned into me. I try to be the Alpha King. I try to be the man this pack needs, but you’ve made it impossible. You’re under my skin, and now you want to run to my brother?"

​"I’m not running to anyone!" I breathed, my anger suddenly wavering as the raw honesty in his voice hit me. The air between us was thick, charged with a tension so heavy I could taste it.

​"You aren’t leaving," he hissed, his gaze dropping to my lips. "I won’t let you. I’ve spent my whole life in control, but one minute with you and I’m a beggar. You want to know if I’m a coward? Fine. I was a coward because I was afraid of how much I wanted to do this again."

​Before I could breathe, before I could think of a retort, his mouth crashed onto mine. It wasn’t the soft, tentative kiss from that night in his room. This was a claim. It was desperate and hungry, a collision of all the words we hadn’t said and all the frustration we had been building for days. I let out a muffled sob into the kiss, my fingers tangling into his hair, pulling him closer.

​The resignation, the anger, the cameras outside—it all vanished. There was only the heat of his lips, the scent of cedar and rain, and the terrifying realization that I was just as obsessed with him as he was with me.

​We kissed deeply, my senses spinning, but the moment he broke away, the air felt freezing. I expected him to pull me closer, to haul me back into his arms, but instead, Oliver’s hands slid down my hips. With a slow, heavy deliberation, he sank to his knees on the plush carpet.

​My eyes widened, a shock of pure adrenaline jolting through me. "Alpha Oliver? What are you—"

​He was the Alpha King. He was the man who commanded thousands, the man who stood tall while others bowed. Seeing him like this—lower than me, looking up with eyes that were dark with a hunger that bordered on worship—made my head spin.

​I tried to push off the table, my legs feeling like jelly. "Oliver, stop, you can’t... someone might come in..."

​But he wasn’t listening. His large hands gripped my thighs, his fingers digging into my skin with a possessive strength that anchored me to the spot. He pulled me toward the edge of the mahogany table, spreading my legs with a firm, silent command.

​The cool air of the office hit my skin, making me shiver, but the heat radiating from him was more intense. He leaned forward, his face inches from the center, his scent—that intoxicating scent—filling my lungs until I couldn’t think.

​"Oliver..." I whispered, my fingers clutching the edge of the table.

​He looked up at me then, his jaw tight, his expression raw.

​"I want to have a taste of you, Aurora," he rasped, his voice vibrating against my skin.

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