Chapter 12
ALPHA’S OBSESSION
SERAPHINA
His shadows wrap around my wrists, pinning them above my head against the wall with surprising gentleness. The pressure feels perfect against my now-healed wrist, transformed into pleasure by the lingering magic in my system.
"What have you done to me?" I whisper, the words half-accusation, half-plea.
"Nothing you didn't secretly want," he replies, mistaking the source of my sudden surrender.
His mouth moves to my neck, teeth scraping the sensitive skin near my scent gland until I whimper—a purely Omega sound of submission that would normally horrify me.
"I can feel it through the bond, what you try so hard to hide from yourself.
How much you want to let go, to stop fighting, to let me take control. To let your Alpha claim you properly."
With my barriers down, he can feel everything—every spike of arousal, every flutter of need, every moment where fear transforms into anticipation. The connection flows both ways now, and I'm drowning in his desire, his possessive Alpha hunger, his desperate need to claim me completely.
Part of me knows I should be horrified, should be fighting with everything I have. But that part grows quieter with each passing second, drowned out by the roaring in my blood, the desperate need for more of his touch.
"Someone will see," I manage, even as my head falls back against the wall, baring my throat in pure Omega submission. Through the partial opening of our alcove, I can see the main corridor where courtiers occasionally pass.
His laugh vibrates against my skin, dark and possessive. "Let them." His hands find the ties of my training clothes, working them open with deliberate care. "Let the entire court see who you belong to, watch their Shadow Lady come undone."
I should be outraged at his possessiveness. Instead, the thought of being watched—of courtiers glimpsing their proud new Shadow Lady writhing at her husband's hands—sends a forbidden thrill straight to my core.
"You're mine," he growls, sliding my tunic off my shoulders slowly, leaving me in just my thin undershirt. Cool air hits my heated skin, making me shiver. "Mine to break, mine to pleasure, mine to worship, mine to destroy if I choose. My Omega."
"And you're mine to kill," I counter, but the threat lacks conviction when I'm arching into his touch, when my body is producing slick for him.
He laughs darkly. "We'll see about that." His hand finds my breast through the thin fabric, fingers circling my nipple until it hardens. "But first, let's see if we can make you scream my name loud enough for the entire palace to hear."
The sound of approaching footsteps should make me panic. Instead, it only intensifies the fire building inside me. I meet Malakai's gaze and see my own reckless desire reflected back at me.
"Anyone could come by," I whisper, not sure if I'm protesting or encouraging.
"They can watch, but no one will touch you." His smile is darkly possessive, absolutely feral. "You are mine alone, and I want them to know it."
His shadows carefully part the seams of my undershirt, sliding the fabric away from my body with deliberate slowness, exposing my breasts to the cool air and any eyes that might pass our alcove.
The rational part of my mind screams in protest, but that voice grows fainter, drowned out by the drug-like euphoria flooding my system.
I hear voices now, courtiers passing through the corridor, some lingering near our alcove.
One shadow slides between my legs, pressing against me through my training pants, creating a friction that makes my knees buckle.
Only Malakai's body and his shadows keep me upright.
The scent of my arousal must be filling the corridor—there's no way to hide it now.
"I could take you right here whether you want it or not," he murmurs against my ear. "But I want to hear you ask for it. I want to hear you beg me to fuck you where anyone might see."
The challenge in his eyes is clear. He thinks I'll retreat behind my mask of hatred and dignity. And normally, he'd be right.
But there's nothing normal about the golden fire coursing through my veins, stripping away pretense and inhibition.
"Don't stop," I whisper, shocking us both.
Something dangerous and triumphant flares in his eyes. "Say my name."
I swallow hard, fighting one last battle with my pride. "Don't stop...Malakai."
His response is immediate and devastating.
His mouth claims mine, this kiss somehow more possessive than before.
His shadows work at my remaining clothing, sliding pants and undergarments away until I stand completely naked in the alcove, exposed to anyone who might glance our way.
I should be mortified. Instead, I'm burning alive with need.
"Look at you," he breathes, stepping back. "My deadly, vicious little Omega, stripped bare and begging for my touch."
His shadows slide over my skin like living silk—one curling around my throat, others dragging down my sides, across my hips, between my thighs with maddening slowness. His fingers follow, teasing, pinching, dragging sounds from me I didn't know I could make.
More voices now—closer, curious, some courtiers clearly lingering to listen. Among them, I notice Cade's voice, though he seems to be trying to move others along. My teeth sink into my lip to hold back a moan, but the idea of someone else hearing us only enhances the heat building inside me.
Malakai senses it immediately. His eyes narrow with wicked understanding.
"No," he snarls, thrusting two fingers inside me without warning, making me cry out loudly enough to echo down the corridor.
"You don't get to hide anymore. Your tight cunt gets wetter when you know someone else is listening, doesn't it, Omega? "
His thumb circles my clit hard and fast, and I can't deny it anymore.
He's figured out my darkest secret—the forbidden thrill I get from the possibility of being caught.
When I still try to stay quiet, a ribbon of shadow wraps around my neck, not choking, just tight enough to force my breath to catch.
"Let them hear how much you're enjoying this," he commands. "Let them know how you fall apart for your Alpha."
The courtiers are gathered now, their voices a mix of shock and fascination. I pant harder, right on the edge, trembling with the knowledge that they can probably smell my slick, my arousal.
My legs tremble as he pushes them apart, my modesty stripped bare as he falls to his knees and looks up at me with the most wickedly hungry grin.
"You're dripping for me," he says, his voice rough. "And you love that they might hear me worship my Omega."
Then his mouth is on me, hot, ruthless, claiming me with zero hesitation—tongue and teeth and lips. No preamble. No mercy. Just pure, devastating pleasure that makes me scream.
His hands dig into my thighs as he spreads me wider, holding me open as he slides his tongue deep inside me. I moan loudly, past caring who hears me. My fingers curl into his dark hair. His hands grip my thighs so tightly I know I'll have bruises, but I don't care. I want to be marked by him.
He devours me like he's starving.
The pressure is relentless, wicked, focused only on dragging pleasure out of me like a confession torn from my lips. My fingers leave his hair and claw at the stone wall behind me.
He groans when I buck against his mouth, his hands bruising on my hips as he pins me down. He doesn't stop, doesn't give me a moment to breathe.
His shadows rise up and slowly twist my nipples, the dual sensation making me cry out.
He stops and looks up at me, his face glistening with my wetness and the most triumphant expression I've ever seen. "Let them know what I can do to you with just my mouth. You like being heard by the whole court. You like them knowing I'm on my knees worshipping you. My perfect Omega."
And then he's not holding back anymore, his tongue seeming to stretch and grow inside me, filled with shadow magic, while his tendrils twist my nipples with perfect, maddening pressure. My body can't take the intensity. I grip his hair tighter, screaming his name without shame.
And then I shatter completely—body arching off the wall, voice breaking, control utterly gone. I moan so loudly that the sound echoes down the corridor, coming apart as his shadow magic pulses through me, heightening every sensation until I'm sobbing with pleasure.
He doesn't move away. He drinks in every drop of my release, lapping at the slick like a man starved.
When his eyes meet mine, his lips are wet with me, his expression absolutely feral.
"You really love being heard, don't you, Omega?" he says. "You'll think about this every time you walk these halls. So will they. They'll remember how their Shadow Lady screamed my name while I made her come with my tongue."
I should be mortified. Should be planning his slow, painful death for this public humiliation. Instead, I feel strangely, terrifyingly free, as if some burden I've carried for years has suddenly lifted.
Before I can process this, Malakai is turning me to face the wall, his chest pressing against my back as he kicks my legs wider.
I hear him unfastening his trousers, feel the hot length of him pressing against me from behind.
I'm still throbbing from my climax, but I want him inside me, strangely even more aroused by our active audience.
"Tell me you want me to fuck you right here, right now," he demands, one hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat. "Tell me to claim you where anyone might hear."
"Yes," I hear myself say, my voice hoarse but utterly certain. "Yes, I want you. I want them to hear you claim me. I want them to know I'm yours."
He enters me in one powerful thrust, filling me so completely I see stars. My hands scrabble for purchase against the smooth stone wall as he sets a punishing rhythm, each stroke driving me higher.