Dark Alpha: A Fated Mates Novel

8: NO REST FOR THE WICKED

~SINCLAIR~

She was still asleep, so still that he checked her pulse every few minutes. This soul-blinding fear– this uncertainty– he wanted out so bad. He wanted to not feel scared every damn second, to be comfortable enough to take a full breath, to see her out of this bed that stank of depression.

But gods, watching her was no stress. She was so beautiful.

Her eyes had huge, dark bags underneath them, and her cheeks and lips had no color in them. Her hair hung in limp ebony strands, and Hades knew he was well and truly f*cked because this woman had to be the most stunning he'd ever seen despite it all.

He'd known this all along, of course. Even when ripping her life out from around her, he'd been fighting a soul-deep attraction, the first in centuries. That fire in her eyes had ignited a flame somewhere in him that would burn for her forever.

It had just been easier to leave her under his dungeons, he thought, his heart and throat clenching with that familiar welcome feeling, that guilty self-loathing. He had already destroyed her, why not leave her and not pretend like he was anything more than that soulless bastard?

Why pretend like he wanted her beside him, around him, over him, inside him?

Why?

And dammit, after all the powers he'd consumed to make himself indestructible and invincible, to find his source, he still hadn't been able to tell that the girl would be the center of his world someday.

It was simply heart-crushing, he wanted to die with the irony of it all.

Vannie turned to her right side, and settled in nicely in a tidy little space at the center of the ancient bed that had been created as the resting space for Alphas millenniums before him and their other halves.

A bed that had been left unused for many moons now.

Sin had been unable to bear the thought that he could be lying on the bed, sprawled and comfortable with his mate, but he was stuck alone. He'd been unable to settle with that fact, and had instead, made himself at home with a smaller bed in a guest room of his court that hadn't seemed to be that lonely.
And now she was here, and he was a giant, but if he bent just right, her breaths would be caressing his neck, and she'd be few inches away from cuddling.

The thought sent through him a bolt of longing so fierce, it was hard to breathe. Such a grim future, his daemon whispered. We aren't even touching her in your fantasies.

Sin didn't deserve even that.

Just one touch. You've denied yourself all this while, the sly tone tempted again, more hopeful this time. His daemon wanted him touching her actual skin.

His daemon didn't actually have a voice– it was simply a phantom– but Sin could feel its individual opinions like a voice in his head.
And gods, everyone knew that she'd never voluntarily allow him near her person. Who knew when next he'd get an opportunity like this? His heart picked up race.

A touch. Just one. Is that clear?

Crystal.

He ignored the languid mockery in the tone, concentrating on the feel of the skin on her arm as he slowly slid down it. Goddamn silk.

He'd never get over this, never stop wanting, never recover—

Electric jolts of awareness shot through him, interrupting his bliss, and he felt as someone opened a portal that twinned in his room. Sin stood up very slowly, perceiving his daemon's stirring as they both realized their mate was in danger. The bastard, it was strung tight for a fight.

So was he.

He turned round, taking in the invader and not bothering to wonder how he got into the locked chambers.

The air smelt thickly of fae magïck. Sin sighed, more bored than truly angry. This man was neither Seer nor Healer, so he had to be an emissary, a sorcerer.

Sin refused to take note of his face or his clothes because it reeked of conceal. Sorcerers that had enough power to conceal their true appearances were hired hands. Still, Sin would do well not to underestimate him.

He slightly released the leash on his own energy, letting the sorcerer know that he wouldn't be leaving scot-free.

"To enter my chambers without invitation, you're either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Or both."

The sorcerer spoke underneath his breath words Sin's hearing picked up as incantations. Sin was beside him and raising him up by his throat before he could finish. He grinned savagely, knowing he was cutting off the air supply from the sorcerer's diaphragm.

"Let's have this talk somewhere else, yeah? We can't have your filthy blood staining my mate's bed."

He was forcefully dragging the man out of the room, cruelly crushing his larynx when a sudden bolt hit him. He felt his whole body go on lock down, unable to understand how easily and quickly he'd fallen into this trap.

It was the oldest trick in the book, a stunning spell. If you were going to steal from or attack someone more powerful, the spell would keep your opponent at the point where you wanted him till you did what you wanted and left. What was being stolen, in this scenario, being his mate.

The sorcerer rapidly began chanting spells, seeing the rage that built within Sin, and realized it would only be a matter of time before he shattered the barriers.

Sin began to push against the invisible boulder, his daemon simmering beneath the surface but trapped by the spell.

Vannie came awake, sensing the fae magïck. She looked around disoriented for a minute, and she must have noticed that it was pushing her toward an open portal, the powers an invisible hand.

Sin thought he was already making progress hammering through the intricate weaves of the spell, but it was simply not good enough. The bastard had taken extra care with the spell, knowing it was going to hold an insane beast.

A/N:
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