Breed Me Cursed Alpha (Lyra and Ronan) novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4

No.”

The word is flat. Final.

I blink. “What?”

“I will not mark you.” He steps back, putting distance between us. “Ever.”

“But you said you’d help me. That we had a deal.”

“I will help you.” His voice is hard. “I will give you shelter. Protection. Training. Revenge. But I will not mark you.”

“Why not?”

“Because once you are marked, you will not be strong enough to resist me when your heat hits.” His jaw clenches. “We would be practically mated. Your body would crave mine. You would beg for me. And I would give in.”

“I can handle it.”

“No. You cannot.”

Anger flares hot in my chest. “You don’t know what I can handle.”

“I know what heat does to an unmarked she-wolf,” he says. “I know the pain. The desperation. But if you are marked by me, it will be ten times worse. You will not be able to think. You will only want one thing.”

“You think I don’t know about heat?” My voice rises. “You think I don’t know about pain?”

He goes still.

“I’ve been enduring heats for four years.” The words come out sharp. Bitter. “Four years of agony. Do you know what that’s like? To be locked in a room with no windows, no light, just four walls and a locked door?”

His expression shifts. Something dark and dangerous flickers in his eyes.

“My pack used my heat as punishment,” I continue. “Every three months like clockwork. They would drag me to that room the moment my scent changed. Lock me inside. Leave me there for three days.”

“Three days,” he repeats quietly.

“Three days of burning alive from the inside. My wolf clawing at my skin, trying to break free. Desperate to find a male. Any male. To breed. To ease the pain.” My voice cracks. “And there was no one. Just me and the agony and my wolf screaming in my head until I thought I’d go mad.”

His hands clench Into fists at his sides.

“They would slide food under the door like I was an animal. I could hear them outside. Laughing. Placing bets on whether I would shift and destroy the room. Whether I would hurt myself trying to escape.”

“They locked you away during heat?” His voice drops lower. Dangerous. “For four years?”

“Every single time.” I meet his gaze. “So do not tell me I cannot handle pain. I have survived worse than you can imagine.”

Silence stretches between us.

“Then you know,” he says quietly, “that marking you would make it unbearable.”

“I can endure it.”

“You say that now.”

“I don’t want you.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. “I could never want you.”

His eyes flash gold. Predatory.

“Is that so?”

He moves before I can react. Closes the distance between us in one smooth stride.

His hand comes up to cup my jaw. Gentle. Almost tender.

Heat radiates from his palm. His thumb brushes across my cheekbone, then down to trace my lower lip.

“You don’t want me?” His voice is low. Rough.

My breath catches.

“No,” I whisper.

“Liar.”

His other hand trails down my side. Slowly. His fingers skim my ribcage, my waist, my hip. Each touch burns through the thin fabric of my torn dress.

Heat floods through me. Pooling low in my belly.

His hand slides beneath the ragged hem. Fingertips trailing up my thigh with agonizing slowness.

The callouses on his palm scrape against my skin. Rough and gentle at the same time.

I should stop him. Should pull away.

But I can’t move. Can’t breathe.

His fingers brush higher. Higher still.

My heart pounds so hard I’m sure he can hear it.

Until his fingers find the damp fabric of my underwear.

He presses. Just slightly.

A moan rips from my throat before I can stop it.

He groans. Low and rough and utterly wrecked.

“Gods, you’re so wet.”

His finger traces the soaked fabric. Not pushing inside. Not pulling it aside. Just touching. Teasing. Feeling how ready I am for him.

My hips jerk forward involuntarily, seeking more pressure.

He chuckles darkly. Then pulls away completely.

I whimper at the loss. Actually whimper.

He steps back, holding up his glistening fingers. His eyes are gold now.

“See?” His voice is rough. Strained. “You’re dripping for me and I haven’t even touched you properly yet. Can you imagine how much worse that will be once I’ve marked you?”

My wolf surges. Clawing. Desperate. Frantic.

I feel her under my skin. Trying to break free. Trying to present herself to this alpha.

I’m practically jumping out of my skin. Every nerve ending on fire.

His lips brush my pulse point. Feather-light.

I gasp. My fingers dig into his shoulders.

Then his tongue traces the same path. Slow. Wet. Claiming every inch of skin.

A groan rumbles from deep in his chest. The sound vibrates against my throat.

“You taste…” Another lick. Another groan. “So fucking good.”

My hands fist in his hair. Holding him there. Needing more. Needing everything.

“Please,” I breathe. Barely recognizing my own voice.

“Are you sure?” His lips move against my skin with every word. “Once I do this, there is no going back. You will be mine. Forever.”

“I’m sure.”

His teeth graze my neck. Sharp. Promising. A preview of what’s to come.

My breath stops. My entire body goes still.

Waiting.

He opens his mouth wider. I feel his jaw shift. Feel his breath hot against my skin.

His teeth press against my throat. Not breaking the skin. Not yet.

Just hovering there. Sharp points of pressure exactly where a mark would go.

The moment stretches. Endless. Agonizing.

My heart pounds so hard I think it might burst.

And I realize I don’t know.

I don’t know if he’s really going to do it.

Or if this is just another lesson. Another way to prove his point.

His breath is hot against my throat.

His teeth sharp and ready.

Waiting.