Page 17 of Chained By the Alpha (Claimed Duet #1)

And though I know I should be grateful for his help, I wonder what it would have been like if something had happened between us. This dangerous thought sends a shiver down my spine and ignites a fire deep within me that threatens to consume my very being.

“Look, I wasn’t drunk, I had two drinks and I definitely didn’t take any drugs voluntarily, and I am sorry you had to babysit me.

But you are wrong about Deacon, he wouldn’t abandon me,” I insist, my voice trembling with embarrassment.

The heat between us is undeniable; however, so is the humiliation.

“You are seriously still doubting me? See for yourself.” Zayn hands me his phone, and on the screen is a video of me being carried inside the packhouse by him, clearly not in control of my own body.

“Your so-called boyfriend left you alone while you were like that.”

I chew my lip, tears threatening to spill at the thought of Deacon just abandoning me. I hand the phone back to him. “Why am I wearing your shirt?”

“As I said, you were slipped something, and you threw up on yourself. I showered you.” He shrugs, though his eyes burn into mine with an intensity that makes my heart race.

My face flushes at the realization that he’d seen me naked, he had said it.

I was kind of hoping he was joking and that he had his cleaner, maid, or someone else do it.

As if sensing my discomfort, Zayn leans over me, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him.

“Don’t worry, you have nothing to be ashamed about,” he smirks, and I swear I notice a glint of desire in his eyes. He lets me go after a few intense seconds.

I move to the edge of the bed, only to realize I have no underwear on, and I awkwardly pull the shirt down, trying to conceal myself.

“Let me guess, you took me to the hospital, too?” I snap, trying to regain some sense of control as I climb off the bed, only to notice that my injured leg is now completely healed.

“No, I healed you,” he replies, shaking his head.

I stare at him in disbelief. “You what?” I ask him.

Healing like that was incredibly rare and dangerous; it is taboo for a reason.

Mates would only heal each other in the direst of circumstances, and even then, such an act could be fatal for the healer.

Why would Zayn risk his life for someone who meant nothing to him?

When another thought occurs to me, he could have sired me by doing so, meaning my wolf would obey him.

“Please tell me you’re joking right now?”

He folds his arms across his chest and raises one eyebrow at me. “Do I look like I am joking?”

I swallow. “You could have sired my wolf before I even got it!” I snap, annoyed at him, though that may explain the weird attraction I’ve had toward him since waking up.

“I can’t believe this. I saved your ass just to get abused over it, gee thanks,” he snaps, making me feel guilty.

“It’s not that… Please don’t tell my dad about this,” I plead, my voice barely audible. I shudder at the thought of what he’d say or do if he found out. What if he strips me of my title? Especially if Zayn has in fact, sired my wolf to obey him? That would put the pack at risk.

“Fine.” I let out a breath of relief when he speaks again. “But you have to go to breakfast with me,” Zayn says with a grin. My heart leaps in my chest. What if we’re seen together?

“Not anywhere anyone will see us together,” he says like he is reading my thoughts. “So what will it be?”

“Deal,” I agree, and I stand only to look down. “Ah, Zayn?” I ask, and he tilts his head to the side. “My clothes?”

He blinks at me. “Ah, right. You threw up on them. I threw them in the trash.”

I glance down at the shirt I’m wearing. I can’t go to breakfast like this and certainly not home in this. My eyes widen in horror, another thing I will need to explain to my father.

Zayn moves toward me, and I peer up at him. He grabs my shoulders. I stare at him like a damn moron, then warmth rushes through me. Oh, no, what if he did sire my wolf? He must realize where my thoughts went because he chuckles and rolls his eyes, steering me toward the bathroom.

The bathroom is spacious and modern, with gleaming fixtures and a large, glasswalled shower.

“I think you sired my wolf!” I blurt embarrassingly, and my hands move to my mouth.

“Why? Fantasizing about me now?” he purrs.

“And you don’t sound the least bit upset about that!” I growl. He appears to think for a second. “Nope, not at all.”

Zayn’s nonchalance about the possibility of having sired my wolf only adds to the swirling chaos of emotions inside me. His casual dismissal of something so significant makes my head spin, yet his next words stop me dead in my tracks.

“Would it be such a bad thing if I sired you?” he muses, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “At least I know how to treat a woman.”

I scoff at his audacity. “Really? You? How exactly would you treat me differently?”

He steps closer, and the intensity of his gaze sends a thrill down my spine. “For starters, I wouldn’t leave you vulnerable and alone at a club,” he begins, his voice low and steady. “I’d respect you, protect you…” His words trail off.

I roll my eyes, trying to mask the effect his words are having on me.

His proximity is overwhelming, his scent envelopes me, making it hard to think. The idea of being with Zayn, of being his, sends a jolt of excitement mixed with fear through me. His words, though seemingly playful, carry a weight that’s impossible to ignore.

“And how exactly would you do that?” I challenge, my voice barely above a whisper.

Zayn’s smile evolves into something more predatory, his eyes darkening with a hunger that sends a rush of excitement through me.

He steps closer, so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body.

His hand lifts, tracing a line down the side of my face, his touch feather-light, causing butterflies to flutter in my stomach.

“You have no idea, Cleo, how much I could appreciate you,” he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive hum that vibrates through me. His hand moves lower, skimming the curve of my shoulder and down my arm, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

His other hand comes up to gently cup my chin, tilting my face up to his.

“I’d worship every inch of your body,” he continues, his gaze locked onto mine, intense and unwavering.

“Every curve, every line…” His fingers trail down to the neckline of the oversized shirt I’m wearing, teasing the edge of the fabric.

I catch my breath, my body responding to his touch in ways I can’t control. His proximity, the heat of his body, the intensity of his gaze—it’s overwhelming, intoxicating.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “With my hands, my tongue, I would trace every inch of you. You’d never be out of my sight, you’d be lucky if I let you out of my bed,” he whispers, sending heat throughout my body. “I’d make sure you were safe, cherished...”

His words are like a caress, wrapping around me, pulling me deeper into the spell he’s weaving. I can feel myself getting lost in the moment, in the fantasy he’s painting—a fantasy where I am adored, where I am the center of someone’s world.

Then he ruins it, his voice turning teasing, almost taunting. “I certainly wouldn’t abandon you while you were in a vulnerable state,” his face pulls away with a smirk.

“By the smell of your arousal, I bet you want to find out exactly how I’d worship you, don’t you?” His fingers trace lower, brushing just below the hem of the shirt, teasing the bare skin of my thighs. “I bet Deacon doesn’t get the same reaction from you.”

The spell breaks, and I step back, feeling a flush of embarrassment heat my face.

So intimate and raw, that cuts through me, reminding me of the reality of the situation.

“I... You can’t just say things like that,” I stammer, trying to regain my composure. The mix of arousal and embarrassment leaves me feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Zayn’s expression shifts, a flicker of regret passing through his eyes before he masks it with a smirk. “Can’t I?”

Turning away from him, I wrap my arms around myself, feeling a turmoil of emotions raging inside me. Zayn’s words, his touch, have awakened something within me, something I can’t quite understand. And as much as I want to explore it, I’m also terrified it may mean he has sired me.

The heat rises in my cheeks.

“You’re just messing with me,” I say, though my voice lacks conviction as I peer at him over my shoulder.

Zayn’s smile fades, replaced by a look of sincerity. “I’m not, Cleo. You deserve better than Deacon. You deserve someone who sees your worth, who values you for who you are.”

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. The thought of being valued, cherished even, is both alluring and terrifying.

“Now go shower, I’ll find you some clothes,” he tells me.

Alpha Zayn leaves the bathroom to fetch me some clothes, and I turn on the water, adjusting it to a warm, soothing temperature.

As I step under the spray, the water cascades over me, and I close my eyes, letting it wash over my skin.

The tension in my muscles begins to loosen, while my mind refuses to quiet down.

My mind is a whirlpool of confusion and unbidden thoughts about Zayn and the things he just said.

The way he moved, his muscles rippling under his skin, had left an imprint in my mind, one I find both unsettling and undeniably alluring.

His presence seems to linger in the room, a tangible force I can’t ignore.

As I lather soap over my body, I find myself thinking about Zayn more, about the way his sweatpants had clung to him. It’s a visual that’s both provocative and intimate, and it sends a warm flush through my body.