Chapter 8

Allison

The private elevator ride up to Roman’s penthouse was the longest ninety seconds of my life.

The air inside the mirrored car was dead silent, suffocatingly tense, and thick with a scent that was entirely new. The moment Roman found out I was a virgin, the raw, territorial energy of his wolf had shifted. It wasn't just aggressive desire anymore—it was a heavy, intoxicating male possessiveness that seemed to coat the very walls around us.

Roman stood behind me, his massive chest flushed against my bare back. He didn’t touch me with his hands, but his future Alpha aura wrapped around me like a physical weight. I could see our reflection in the polished glass: me, flushed and trembling in the short blue satin dress, my dark hair a wild mess; and him, standing towering and rigid, his silver eyes fixed unblinkingly on the reflection of my neck.

Right there, my wolf hummed, practically baring her throat in the mirror. That's where his teeth belong.

When the elevator doors finally chimed and slid open directly into the dark luxury of his penthouse, Roman didn't wait.

He gripped my wrist—gently, but with an underlying steel that left no room for negotiation—and hauled me through the entryway. He didn't stop in the living room. He walked straight past the floating staircase, leading me down the long, dimly lit corridor that led to his private master suite.

The doors to his bedroom were massive, made of heavy dark oak. Roman pushed them open, pulled me inside, and slammed the door shut behind us.

The heavy thud of the lock clicking into place echoed through the quiet room.

I swallowed hard, my heart jumping into my throat as I looked around. I had been in Roman’s room before for movie nights or to hide from pack drama, but tonight, the space felt entirely different. The king-sized bed was draped in dark charcoal sheets, and the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the glittering grid of the city below. The room smelled overwhelmingly of him—pure cedarwood, top-shelf liquor, and the heavy pheromones of a fully awakened Alpha.

Roman shed his suit jacket, tossing it carelessly onto a leather chair. He began unbuttoning his black silk shirt the rest of the way, his eyes never breaking contact with mine.

"Roman," I whispered, my hands coming up to rest flat against my chest, feeling the frantic, erratic rhythm of my heart. "I... I don't know what to do."

"You don't have to do anything, Al," he murmured.

He shrugged the shirt off his broad shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. Jesus, he was beautiful. The light from the city silhouetted the hard, cut lines of his abs, the heavy muscle of his chest, and the intricate dark tattoos that swirled up his arms and disappeared over his shoulders. He was built for violence, built to dominate on the ice and in the pack, but as he stepped toward me, his movements were agonizingly deliberate.

He stopped right in front of me, the heat radiating off his bare skin making my eyelids heavy.

"First," Roman whispered, his large hands reaching around to the back of my neck. His knuckles brushed against my bare spine, sending a violent wave of goosebumps down my arms. "We get you out of this dress. It’s been driving me crazy since the second I saw you on the stairs."

His fingers found the small, hidden zipper at the top of my spine. With a slow, agonizingly steady pull, the sound of fabric parting filled the quiet room. The tight blue satin went slack, slipping off my shoulders and pooling around my waist, leaving me standing before him in nothing but a sheer, matching lace bra and panties.

Roman’s breath caught. A low, ragged sound tore from his chest, his jaw clenching so hard I thought it might crack. His silver eyes darkened, tracking every inch of my exposed skin, from the swell of my breasts to the curve of my hips, down to my long, trembling legs.

"You are so beautiful, Al," he growled softly, his voice completely wrecked. "So fffucking perfect."

He reached out, his large, calloused palms settling gently onto the bare skin of my waist. His hands were warm—hot, even—and the contrast against my chilled skin made me gasp. Slowly, deliberately, he began to rub his hands up the sides of my ribs, his thumbs tracing small, heavy circles just beneath the underwire of my bra.

It was the same rhythm from the limousine, but without the leather or the fabric blocking us.

"Look at me, Allie," he commanded softly.

I tilted my head back, my blue-green eyes locked onto his silver glare. I was trembling so hard my heels clicked against the floorboards, but the fear was rapidly being consumed by a heavy, liquid heat that was pooling low in my belly.

"I'm going to be gentle," he whispered, his thumbs sliding inward, tracing the soft skin of my sternum before moving lower, mapping the dip of my stomach. "But you need to tell me if it's too much. My wolf wants to claim you right now, Al. He wants to mark you and put his weight on you until you smell like nothing but me. I'm fighting him for you. So tell me what you need."

"I need you," I whispered, the honesty tearing out of me before I could stop it. I reached up, my hands settling onto his bare, muscular chest. His heart was hammering just as fast as mine, a wild, untamed beat. "I don't want to wait anymore, Roman. Please."

A dark, possessive smirk touched the corners of his lips, the silver in his eyes flaring like a localized storm.

"That's my girl," he growled.

In one swift, effortless movement, Roman hooked his arms under my thighs and lifted me, pressing my back gently into the plush, charcoal mattress of his bed. Before I could even catch my breath, his massive body followed me down, shadowing mine, blocking out the rest of the world.