Page 16 of Chained By the Alpha (Claimed Duet #1)

· Cleo ·

The sun blazes through the curtains, burning my skin to a crisp as I jerk up from my slumber. Where am I? A violent headache has taken over my body, and I groan in pain. Squinting against the bright light, memories of last night flicker in my mind – some of which are very hazy.

I groan in pain as my head throbs more. I scrunch my eyes shut against the light and rub them, trying to remember what happened.

Finally, I open them and my gaze darts around the large room, searching for a familiar face.

Eventually, they land on him, standing by the window, looking out into the cityscape.

His hair is wet, looking as though he recently showered.

A pair of gray sweatpants clings to his frame.

Confusion bubbles inside me as I glance down at my unfamiliar clothing. It’s not mine or Lydia’s. My fingers nervously graze the fabric before I shift my gaze back to him, no longer able to contain my curiosity or anger.

“Did we...?” The words almost die on my lips, but I say enough to make him understand. He shoots me a wicked smirk before his expression softens into seriousness. An uncomfortable tension hangs in the air. Anxiety surges inside me as dread begins to fill my veins.

“Wait, you are being serious?” he laughs, and I glower at him. His laughter only grows louder.

“Trust me, if we did, you wouldn’t be questioning if we had.” A hint of amusement laces his tone.

I want to look away. Instead, my gaze lingers on his face. His expression is unreadable, and he seems to be lost in thought.

I take a deep breath before speaking up again. “Well, someone’s got tickets on themselves,” I retort and immediately regret it when his face hardens.

“No, I’ve seen every inch of you, Cleo,” he spits angrily. “I know exactly the damage I would have caused you had I helped myself to your body.” My face heats as I tug the shirt down, trying to cover myself up more.

It’s then that realization starts to fill me—this isn’t just some small mistake, this could have been a lot worse than what it already is, and it scares me deeply.

He must sense my fear because suddenly, his expression softens, and he crosses his arms over his massive chest, causing the muscles to ripple beneath his skin.

“If I wanted to fuck you, I could have easily. You’re just lucky that I’m not into somnophilia with drunk girls.” My heart hammers in my chest, and I try to process what he is saying. “Stress less, I never stole your virginity,” he mocks with a roll of his eyes.

My mind races, searching for any signs that I’d had too much to drink. All I can remember is arguing with Zayn, then after that, nothing. Why don’t I remember anything after speaking with him?

I mull that over for a second. Oh, my, what does Deacon think? Did he see me leave with him? Why didn’t he stop me? My eyes move to Zayn, who is watching me. The intensity in his gaze holds me for a few seconds before a thought flickers through my head and comes out of my lips in a snarl.

“What did you do to me?”

He seems taken aback by my words.

“Did you drug me? Is this some sick revenge to get back at my father?” I accuse, outraged that he would… he would… not steal my virginity?

“You did not just accuse me of raping you!” he scoffs.

I say nothing, just stare at him, not knowing what else to do.

I don’t remember coming back here, I don’t remember anything after seeing him.

I shake my head, only the motion makes my head pound worse, and I clutch it, regretting the action instantly.

“Why don’t I remember anything then?” I mutter, panic coursing through me. When I open my eyes, Zayn presses his hands on either side of my hips. I move away from him as he leans closer. I swallow at how close he is, his scent overwhelming my senses.

“Maybe ask Deacon that question?”

I furrow my brows, and he shoves off the bed.

“Your so-called boyfriend is great at watching over you. Someone slipped something in your drink while he was grinding against your sister on the dance floor,” he spits, anger seeping through his words.

“She is not my sister, and I told you they are—” I start to say. He cuts me off.

“Yeah, I know they’re just friends right, the kind that rub genitals together on a dance floor? I saved your ass, just in case you’re wondering. I could have left you, I…” he doesn’t finish, just shakes his head.

In the overwhelming silence following Zayn’s words, my mind races with a whirlwind of emotions. His gaze lingers on me, intense and unsettling, as if he’s trying to decipher my thoughts. The air between us is charged with a tension I can almost touch.

His proximity is disarming, the heat from his body mingling with mine.

Despite my turmoil, I notice the way his muscles move under his skin, the way his eyes hold mine with a fierce intensity.

It’s a dangerous dance, this push and pull between us, and I find myself both repelled and drawn to him at the same time.

I wrap my arms around myself, feeling suddenly vulnerable in the oversized shirt. “Why should I believe you? You could be making all this up just to… to get back at me for something.”

Zayn’s eyes darken, and he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I have no reason to lie to you, Cleo. You should be thanking me, not accusing me of lying or accusing me of… I saved you, that is all that matters.”

“Saved me how?” My voice shakes, and I fight back the tears that threaten to

spill.

“Someone slipped something in your drink,” he tells me. “I found you in the parking lot... trying to drive home,” he answers. Why would anyone drug me? And why did he care enough to help me?

I open my mouth to say something, then close it again, not knowing what to say.

“And Deacon, just let me try to drive?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “No idea. He was too busy, not dry-fucking your stepsister and his ex.”

“Stop saying that! You make it sound like he was doing something wrong!” I snap.

His eyebrows raise almost into his hairline.

“Because he is wrong! You shouldn’t be with him! You’re not his!” he snarls.

“What the heck are you talking about?” I growl back at him, and why is he getting so mad? Of course, I would assume he did something when I woke up, not remembering how I got here! Zayn sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep breath.

I struggle to process everything he’s saying about Deacon and Lydia. It feels like a betrayal, a wound that’s too fresh and raw. “You’re wrong,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. “Deacon wouldn’t allow someone to do that to me, and nothing is going on with him and Lydia!”

Zayn’s expression softens slightly, and he takes a tentative step closer. “Cleo, I’m just telling you what I saw. He abandoned you. I wish it weren’t true, but I can’t change the facts.”

“You have a mate out there. One that wouldn’t abandon you. Deacon isn’t yours, so I don’t get why you’re with that loser, or he would have told you, you were his mate.” He shakes his head.

“Yeah, but heaps of people choose mates, they don’t have to be fated, and I, for one, don’t even believe in fated mates. Look at my father’s mate, real catch, she’s a golddigging bitch. I’d rather skip on the mate’s part, thank you,” I tell him, and he shakes his head.

“And you think Deacon isn’t after the same thing? He knows you’re the next Alpha, he becomes your mate, you become his Luna while he steals your title right out from under you,” Zayn states.

I’d never thought of that. Deacon wouldn’t do that. We’ve been together for two years and not once has he ever mentioned becoming Alpha once I take over the pack.

However, Zayn’s words about Deacon seeking power echo through my mind as I try to piece together the fragments of last night.

I barely remember anything. I remember seeing him dancing on the dance floor, that’s it.

The concept of him using me for his gain feels like a foreign thought, yet it gnaws at the edges of my consciousness.

“I never thought about it like that,” I admit reluctantly, the realization leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. “Deacon isn’t like that. He cares about me.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow, a skeptical look crossing his features. “Does he? Or does he care about what being with you can get him? Think about it, Cleo.”

His words sting, and a part of me wants to defend Deacon, to deny Zayn’s accusations.

Another part, a growing, nagging doubt, wonders if there’s some truth to them.

The world of pack politics is a complex web of alliances and power plays, and I’ve always known being the next Alpha would put me in the center of it all.

“Even if what you’re saying is true, what does it matter?” I challenge, trying to mask the turmoil inside me. “I don’t need a fated mate, fate can be wrong, look at my mother, fate really fucked her over.”

Zayn’s gaze softens again, and he steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “You might be surprised at what fate has in store for you.”

The proximity between us is electric, a current that seems to flow from him to me, igniting a fire I didn’t know existed. His eyes search mine, and for a moment, I feel as if he’s looking straight into my soul.

The room feels charged with an energy I can’t explain, and I find myself leaning toward him, drawn by an invisible force. His scent envelops me, a heady mix that makes my head spin.

“Doesn’t matter, not now anyway. Just do what you want. You wanna stay with the fool, be my guest. Just know that you’re safe. And nothing happened between us,” he says, his gaze holding mine. I suppose I should be grateful it was him and not someone else with more sinister intentions.

“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling a little relieved. He nods, his eyes never leaving mine, as if trying to reassure me without words. Yet the tension remains, undeniably simmering between us – a heat that refuses to be extinguished, and his gaze is intense.