Page 6 of The Alpha Under My Bed (The Chosen #1)

Six

MALCOLM

Ellie sat curled up on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, her sweater slipping just enough off her shoulder to expose a sliver of bare skin. She looked soft, warm—so perfectly at ease, completely unaware of the layers of control tightening around her. The glow of her phone screen cast a soft light over her face, illuminating the little furrow between her brows as she scrolled.

She probably thought she was just distracted, letting the day’s exhaustion sink into her bones. She didn’t realize that I had been watching her closely, tracking the first subtle shifts in her body. Her scent had started to sweeten—just a little. The first sign of her heat creeping up on her.

I kept my expression neutral, hands moving through the motions as I unpacked the groceries onto her counter, taking stock of what she had— or rather, what she didn’t. Her fridge was nearly empty, a single water bottle rolling lazily against the side door when I nudged it open. The pantry wasn’t much better, a half-empty box of crackers sitting beside a bag of tea.

Typical.

Ellie always forgot to prepare for her heats, always let things slip in the days leading up to them. Whether it was forgetfulness or her own stubborn denial, I wasn’t sure. But it didn’t matter.

That’s what I was here for.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” she murmured, her voice still thick with exhaustion.

I glanced over my shoulder, arching a brow. “Who else is gonna do it?”

She huffed, rolling her eyes, but didn’t argue.

I turned back to the groceries, lining the shelves with precision. Bottled electrolyte drinks. Protein bars. Pre-cut fruit. Everything she could grab without thinking—things that would keep her hydrated and fed even when she was too deep into heat to function properly. I made sure each item was exactly where she’d expect it to be—another layer of control she didn’t even realize she was wrapped in.

When I shut the fridge, I leaned against the counter, arms crossed as I watched her. “Yeah? And what’s your grand plan when you’re stuck in your nest, too out of it to even get a drink?”

Her lips pressed together, stubborn as ever. She hated being reminded of how vulnerable heats made her.

I softened my tone, keeping my expression easy. “Just let me help, sweetheart.”

That did it.

Her shoulders sagged, a quiet sigh slipping past her lips as she tilted her head against the couch. “I know. You always do.”

She didn’t even realize it.

Didn’t see how this—her letting me take care of her, trusting me without question—was exactly what I wanted.

I knew what she needed better than she did.

And soon, she’d understand that, too.

Ellie barely looked up when I moved toward her closet, her attention locked onto whatever was on her phone. Probably some article she found interesting, or a chat thread about scent matching. Something innocent. Something that made her feel like she had options.

I suppressed the flicker of irritation curling in my gut and crouched down, pulling out the heat kit from its usual spot tucked behind a stack of blankets. A simple plastic storage box, the lid slightly ajar from the last time she’d rummaged through it. A little messy, but predictable. Just like her.

“I should probably check this too,” I murmured, flipping the lid open. “Make sure you’re stocked up.”

“Everything should be in there,” she said through a yawn, stretching her arms above her head.

I hummed in response, pretending to scan the contents while my fingers traced over the neatly arranged items inside. Wipes. Heating pads. Electrolyte powders. Her weighted blanket, folded and ready to be pulled into her nest when the time came.

And then there were the toys.

My jaw tightened as my fingers hovered over them.

Neatly packed rows of silicone, a set she had used for years. One in particular made my vision darken—a smooth, knot-shaped one, designed to mimic what she thought she needed.

She thought these worked.

She thought they scratched the itch.

She thought they got her through the worst of it.

But she hadn’t remembered a heat in years, and I had made sure of that.

I picked up the familiar toy, turning it over in my palm, the smooth material warm from being in storage. My thumb dragged over the base, finding the power button. A weak vibration buzzed against my skin—a pathetic imitation of what her body really needed.

Ellie finally glanced up at the sound, her cheeks darkening when she saw what I was holding.

“Mal!”

I smirked, twirling the toy between my fingers like it was nothing. “What?”

Her hands flew up to cover her face. “Why are you holding that?”

I arched a brow, keeping my voice perfectly neutral. “You’re still using these?”

She groaned, sinking deeper into the couch. “Oh my god. Don’t ask that.”

But she didn’t deny it.

And that was enough to twist something dark inside me.

I leaned back on my heels, watching her carefully. “You could just get a real alpha, you know. Someone to help with your heats.”

Her shoulders stiffened.

Her silence was sharp.

I knew that struck a nerve.

“I don’t need an alpha,” she muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “I’ll be fine.”

Good.

Because she didn’t.

She only needed me.

She didn’t get it.

She didn’t realize that these pathetic little things weren’t enough, that they would never be enough. But she would when her heat hit full force and none of them worked. And when she was desperate—when she couldn’t take it anymore—she would have no choice but to let me take care of her the way I should have from the start.

Carefully, I placed the toy back in the box—except it wasn’t the same one. It was the new one I had slipped in earlier, one with a slightly different shape, a subtle escalation in what she was using. Something that would make her body crave more.

Something that would push her just a little closer to breaking .

I snapped the lid shut, placing the kit back exactly where she had left it.

Ellie sighed, shifting against the couch. “You’re so weird sometimes.”

I smiled.

Ellie curled deeper into the couch, half-draped in a blanket, her fingers lazily scrolling through her phone. She was soft like this—unguarded, completely at ease, trusting me to take care of her without a second thought.

She didn’t even blink when I walked past her, scent blockers in hand.

She never questioned how they got here.

Because every time she went into heat, I made sure she had a fresh set. And every time, she assumed she had bought them herself.

I peeled off the old strips near her window, fingers smoothing over the surface, rolling the used ones between my fingers before slipping them into my pocket. They were weak now, barely masking anything. If I had let her wait until she noticed, it would’ve been too late.

Someone else could’ve scented her.

I pressed the new blockers into place, securing each one tightly, covering every possible gap. The thought of some alpha—some other alpha—catching even a trace of her scent made my fingers tighten against the edges of the last strip.

Not this heat.

Not ever.

Her apartment was a cage, and I was the one locking the door.

Ellie stretched, shifting lazily against the pillows. I could feel the warmth of her gaze on my back, the slow, soft way she watched me.

“You always think of everything,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

Huh, I guess she was paying attention this time.

I turned my head just enough to catch the slow flutter of her lashes, the faint flush warming her cheeks. Her scent was shifting—thickening, deepening.

She was sinking.

And she didn’t even realize it.

A slow smile curved at my lips as I kept my tone light, easy. “Someone has to.”

She let out a breathy laugh, tucking herself deeper into the blankets. “Yeah, yeah. What would I do without you?”

You’ll never find out, sweetheart.

I pressed the last strip into place, ensuring it was perfectly sealed. The satisfaction that settled in my chest was dark, curling tight.

Everything was ready.

I turned back to her, taking in the soft, pliant shape of her body, already responding to the first waves of heat. The scent of her was thick, warming—pressing at the edges of my restraint.

She smelled so fucking sweet.

Her eyes fluttered open, lazy and amused. “What?”

I forced my expression into something soft , something easy. “Nothing,” I muttered, nudging her knee before stepping away from the window.

“All set,” I said, voice casual. “You’re locked down, stocked up, and ready to go.”

Ellie sighed, stretching her arms above her head before curling back into her blankets. “You’re the best.”

She had no idea. No idea that this heat would be different.

Because I was done waiting.

I moved silently, retrieving my bag from the chair by the counter, fingers curling around the cool, solid weight of the chastity belt inside. It was heavier than it looked, smooth steel gleaming under the low light. Practical. Secure.

Unbreakable.

By the time she woke up, it would already be locked in place.

Her body would be ready—begging, desperate—but completely inaccessible.

And there wouldn’t be a damn thing she could do about it.

A slow, satisfied exhale escaped me as I crouched near her closet, sliding the belt into her heat kit, burying it beneath her favorite weighted blanket. It looked harmless there—just another part of her preparation.

She wouldn’t question it.

Not at first.

Not until the moment she realized what was happening.

Not until the moment she understood she was trapped.

Because this time, she wasn’t getting through her heat with those pathetic little toys. This time, there was only me .

This time, she was getting bred .

This time, she was getting bonded .

This time, I was making her mine. Forever .

I straightened, rolling my shoulders, forcing the anticipation to settle deep in my gut. I had been patient for years, letting things unfold at the right pace—making sure she needed me.

But I wasn’t waiting anymore.

Her scent started shifting even more—rich and thick, clinging to the air. It was almost time.

She would be perfect. So fucking perfect.

By the time she realized what was happening, she’d be too far gone to stop it.

I cast one last glance at Ellie. She shifted in her sleep, a quiet sigh escaping her parted lips, her fingers curling into the fabric of her sweater.

Mine.