Page 20 of The Alpha Under My Bed (The Chosen #1)

Twenty

ELEANOR

I woke up wrong.

It wasn’t the bed—though it wasn’t mine.

Wasn’t the heat—though my skin felt too tight, too flushed.

It wasn’t even the slow, curling pulse of satisfaction that wasn’t mine at all—one that whispered mine from the other side of the bond I’d just sealed.

It was the realization.

I wasn’t alone.

I sat up too quickly, my breath catching as the sheets tangled around my legs. The room spun, its edges too sharp, too bright, the world pressing in on me like it was all too real. My body felt sluggish, heavy—as if I were still caught in some fevered haze. But I wasn’t dreaming. I wasn’t sick.

I was claimed.

Mal was there, leaning against the headboard, his eyes locked on me with that infuriatingly steady, unreadable gaze. His arms were folded—calm, composed, and annoyingly patient—like he’d been waiting for me to wake up, like he already knew what was coming.

Like he had planned it all along.

Instinct made my fingers rise to my throat, pressing gently against the fresh bond mark there. It throbbed beneath my touch, a pulse of warmth that shot straight through me, igniting something deep in my core.

My stomach twisted.

The bond wasn’t one-sided anymore.

I could feel everything.

The possessiveness curling low in Mal’s gut, the dark amusement winding through his veins, and the slow, smoldering hunger that was his, but still sent a wave of heat through me—making my thighs tighten against the sensation.

I made a sound—something between a gasp and a whimper.

His lips twitched.

I ripped the blankets off, stumbled to my feet, but my legs buckled beneath me. The world tilted, heat rushing through my body, slick pooling between my thighs even as I clenched my teeth against it.

No. No, no, no.

I braced myself against the nightstand, breathing hard, my entire body betraying me.

Mal was still watching.

Still waiting.

Still letting me figure it out.

And then he finally spoke.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” His voice was slow, amused, drenched in satisfaction. “See how far you get.”

The bond tightened.

I froze.

I couldn’t breathe.

Not because the bond was tightening like a noose around my ribs—though it was.

Not because my body was on fire, aching in a way I couldn’t fight—though it was.

But because Mal was still sitting there, watching me with that face.

Not smug. Not apologetic.

Just steady. Just certain.

Like he had never doubted this would happen.

Like he had always known I’d break.

Like he had planned it.

I felt sick.

My nails dug into my palms, fingers trembling so violently that my knuckles screamed in protest. My throat clogged, thick with too many words, too many tangled emotions I couldn’t even begin to sort through.

The only thing that slipped past the storm was?—

“You lied to me.”

Mal didn’t flinch.

“I didn’t.”

My stomach twisted, and my vision bled into a haze, the edges darkening. “You let me think you were a beta.”

He tilted his head, that unreadable, infuriatingly patient look settling into his expression. He watched me like I was the one who was missing the point—like I was the one who hadn’t caught up to something he had already figured out.

“I never said I was a beta.”

A jagged breath ripped through my chest. “You didn’t correct me either.”

His lips parted, like he was going to say something—then he stopped.

He just watched me.

Waiting.

My body flushed hot, an uncomfortable mix of fury and something I refused to name. Shame, maybe. Or betrayal.

“You let me tell you things—things I never would have said to an alpha.” My voice cracked, thick with hurt. “You let me?—”

I choked on the words.

The worst part.

I loved him.

Not just as my best friend, not as the guy who always knew how to make me laugh, how to lift me up. But as Mal. The one who knew all my little quirks—the way I always needed to have tea before bed, the way I’d hum while I cooked, the way I never left the house without my phone, even though I hated being tied to it. The one who always made sure there was a pack of my favorite cookies tucked in his cabinets just in case. The one who memorized my order at every single restaurant we ever went to, the one who always reminded me to drink water before bed after a night out.

The one who drove four fucking hours to pick me up when I got stranded on the side of the highway at two in the morning because my car decided to die in the middle of nowhere.

I had loved him.

And now?

Now, I didn’t know who the fuck he was.

My knees buckled.

The bond squeezed tight, and the sound that escaped me was too close to a whimper. I hated it.

I hated that he moved before I could crash to the floor.

Hated the way his arms wrapped around me.

Hated how safe I felt in them.

He didn’t say a word.

Didn’t shush me. Didn’t murmur empty reassurances.

He just held me.

Like he knew exactly what was happening inside of me—knew I was falling apart in ways I didn’t even know how to stop.

Like he’d known it was coming all along.

I shoved at him, but it was weak. I was weak.

Mal didn’t let go.

His fingers tightened around the fabric of my shirt, his head dipping slightly. I could feel his breath on my hair, the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest.

“I was always yours, Ellie.” His voice was low, steady, unshakable.

I sucked in a sharp breath, but the bond inside me burned, slamming down on the scream I tried to choke out.

I wanted to hate him. I wanted to push him away, scream at him until my voice broke. But the bond—god, the bond wouldn’t let me. No matter how hard I fought, no matter how much I wanted to tear myself away from him, the pull sank deeper, wrapping around me like chains forged for me and me alone.

And Mal?

He just stood there, watching me struggle.

Waiting. Patient. Unmoved. Like he had all the time in the world.

Because he knew exactly how this would end.

That knowledge burned, searing through me, but it was nothing compared to the fire licking through my veins. I tried to push away from him, to create some space between us. But the second my fingers curled into his shirt, a shock of pleasure jolted through me—sharp, sudden—making me pull back, as if I’d been burned.

My breath hitched. My thighs clenched.

And I nearly collapsed from the weight of the sensation.

I couldn’t stop shaking.

Heat flooded my body, starting at the base of my spine, sinking low in my stomach, pulsing through my core. I staggered back, panting, every part of me screaming to run, but my traitorous legs refused to move.

Every instinct I had warred against itself—fighting, struggling, trying to escape, but no matter how much I tried?—

There was no escape.

The bond wouldn’t let me.

Mal stepped forward, closing the distance between us with slow, deliberate intent. But I pressed myself harder against the wall, shaking my head so violently my vision blurred.

“No,” I whispered, my voice ragged, barely a sound past my frantic breathing.

He stopped, his gaze never leaving me, sharp and knowing.

“You’re fighting it,” he murmured, his voice deep and steady.

I swallowed hard, throat tight with anger, grief, and the gut-wrenching knowledge that he was right. I was fighting it—fighting the way every inch of my body screamed for him, fighting the unbearable ache, the slickness between my legs I knew he could smell. My scent filled the room, thick, sweet, undeniable.

I clenched my thighs tighter, but the chastity belt stopped me.

A strangled noise escaped my throat, hot frustration burning through me. Mal’s gaze flickered downward, locking onto the belt, his body going still. Then, he inhaled slowly, deeply, like he could taste the air.

“You need me, sweetheart.” His voice was soft, coaxing—but there was steel beneath it, something unyielding.

The words burned through me, and I gritted my teeth, shaking my head, even as my body betrayed me further, another wave of slickness dampening the ruined silk between my thighs. The ache, the heat, the demand of the bond—it wouldn’t stop. No matter how much I fought it, no matter how much I hated him for this, my body already knew the truth.

I needed him.

And Mal? He knew it too.

His eyes locked onto mine as he closed the last bit of space between us, crowding me against the wall, taking away every ounce of space I had left.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my vision flickering, my pulse hammering against my ribs, but there was no way out. No escape. No outrunning what was coming.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his breath warm against my cheek.

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms as I fought for air, fought for control, fought against the painful truth clawing at my throat.

The belt pulsed again.

My knees buckled.

A choked sob escaped my lips, humiliation burning through me as my body arched forward on instinct, desperate for more, desperate for anything, desperate for him.

Mal made a soft sound, something almost sympathetic, almost gentle—but there was no mistaking the triumph beneath it. He reached for the belt, his fingers ghosting over the unyielding metal, and I shuddered so violently I nearly collapsed.

His voice was impossibly soft, unbearably cruel.

“You want me to take it off, don’t you?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my breath ragged, my entire body trembling so hard it felt like I was coming apart at the seams.

This wasn’t fair.

None of this was fucking fair.

But the bond didn’t care.

And neither did he.

I sucked in a desperate breath, my voice breaking as I finally, finally shattered.

“Take it off.”

I barely heard my own words past the rush of blood in my ears, past the ragged sound of my own breathing, past the devastating weight of the bond snapping into place with every second I let this go on.

But Mal? He heard me.

His entire body tensed, his pupils blown wide, his breath hitching just enough that I knew—I knew—he had been waiting for this. Waiting for me to finally cave. Waiting for me to break.

His fingers ghosted over the belt again, slow, deliberate, the heat of his touch burning even through the metal. My stomach clenched, my entire body coiled so tight I thought I might snap in half, but I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. Not when my body was screaming for him, not when the ache between my legs had turned unbearable, not when I needed him.

I swallowed hard, my breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

“Mal.”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into something too dark to be a smile—something dangerously close to satisfaction.

“Say it again.”

I gritted my teeth, my nails digging into my palms so hard I nearly broke the skin.

“Take it off.”

His fingers flexed against the belt, like he was considering it, like he was drawing out the moment just to punish me.

“You sure, sweetheart?” His voice was unbearably soft, coaxing, laced with something that made my stomach twist violently.

My vision blurred with frustration, my thighs clenching in a desperate, useless attempt to relieve even a fraction of the ache consuming me.

“Mal, I swear to God?—”

Click.

The sound of the lock releasing was the single most beautiful fucking thing I had ever heard.

I gasped, the relief so sharp it made my legs tremble. But Mal? He wasn’t done.

Not even close.

Because instead of yanking the belt off— instead of giving me the freedom I had been begging for—he dragged it away from my body so slowly it was unbearable. A sob tore from my throat, my body surging forward, chasing the relief, chasing him, but he caught me by the waist, holding me in place, forcing me to feel every second of it.

“Easy,” he murmured, dragging the belt down my thighs, over my knees, until it finally clattered to the floor.

The cool air hit my slick, soaked skin, and I shuddered—humiliated, furious, so fucking needy I thought I might lose my mind.

Mal groaned, and his scent was everywhere.

Thick. Intoxicating. Dark and rich and so much stronger than it had ever been before.

Because now, he wasn’t holding back.

Now, he didn’t have to.

My breath caught, my stomach twisting, because I could finally taste it. The raw power of it. The weight of his claim. The sheer dominance rolling off him in suffocating waves.

And I wanted more.

My fingers curled into his shirt, my body arching against his on instinct, my lips parting as his scent flooded my lungs, my entire world narrowing to him.

His grip tightened on my waist, his voice wrecked with need. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

I snapped.

I yanked at his shirt, fisting the fabric like I could pull him inside me, like I could take all of him—every inch, every drop, every fucking thing he had been denying me.

“I need your knot.”

Mal growled. A real, guttural alpha growl—raw and primal and so fucking possessive it sent a fresh rush of slick between my thighs.

His hands slammed against my hips, gripping me like he wanted to break me apart, like he was seconds away from losing control.

“You want my knot, sweetheart?” His voice was a threat, a promise, a fucking death sentence.

I clenched my thighs, desperate, but his grip was already forcing them apart.

“I need it,” I gasped—shameless, wrecked, completely gone for him. “I need you to fill me. I need your knot.”

His breath hitched, his whole body shaking with restraint.

And then?—

He was inside me.

One brutal, unstoppable thrust.

My head snapped back, a broken cry ripping from my throat as every inch of him stretched me open, claimed me, ruined me—erasing every thought in my head except Mal, Mal, Mal ? —

He filled me completely, his knot pressing against my entrance with the first pulse of his hips. I gasped, my body stretching to accommodate his size, a whimper escaping my lips as he began to move. Each thrust was a claiming, a branding, staking his claim on a part of me I had foolishly thought I could keep hidden. I clawed at his back, my nails scraping against the fabric of his shirt, desperate to feel skin.

“Mal,” I whispered, my voice trembling on his name—a desperate plea, a prayer that hung in the air between us.

He responded with a low growl, the sound vibrating deep in his chest, reverberating against mine. It resonated within the bond that tethered us, a living force that pulsed with every sharp thrust, winding tighter around my heart with every ragged breath that tore from my lungs.

“You’re mine, Ellie.”

His words were a dark, possessive command, igniting a fire deep within me that consumed every thought, every shred of control. The world beyond him blurred into nothingness as my body arched into his, a silent, aching plea for more—more depth, more intensity—until the boundaries between us vanished, leaving only the heat of our connection.

He drove into me with an urgency that bordered on madness, each stroke sending jolts of pleasure coursing through my veins, every retreat a cruel sweetness that left me aching, yearning for the next. His slickness, coating him, eased his passage, as he claimed me with relentless precision. The pressure of his knot against my entrance was maddening—an unspoken promise, a tease of what was to come, that left me trembling with anticipation.

“Please,” I begged, the word slipping from my lips like a secret—needy and raw.

He bent his head, capturing my plea with his lips, his kiss as demanding as his thrusts. His tongue swept into my mouth, tangling with my own in a desperate dance—a mimicry of the ancient rhythm we were both helpless to resist.

I could feel the tension coiling in my belly, a tightening spring that threatened to release at any moment. Mal’s hand slid between our bodies, his fingers finding the bundle of nerves at my core with unerring accuracy. He circled my clit with a practiced touch, the sensation enough to send me spiraling over the edge.

My climax hit me like a shockwave, radiating out from my core in pulsing waves of ecstasy. My inner walls clenched around his cock, milking him with a greed I had no control over. He groaned against my lips, the sound soaked in satisfaction as he continued to thrust, drawing out my pleasure until I was a trembling, gasping mess in his arms.

“You feel that, baby?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against my ear. “Feel how perfectly you take me? You were made for this. Made for me.”

And then he was coming, his knot swelling and locking us together in the most intimate of ways. His release filled me, painting my insides with his essence—a primal part of me reveling in the sensation. He held me close, his breath hot against my neck as he whispered words of ownership and adoration, sealing our fates with every shuddering pulse of his knot.

“You’re my omega, Ellie. My heart. My soul. My everything,” he breathed against my skin.

I felt his claim down to the very marrow of my bones—a truth I could no longer deny, a truth that had been written in the stars since the dawn of time.

In that moment, I was his.

Completely.

Irrevocably.