Make Me Yours, Alpha

”Where are you going?” Alyssa called after Dorian as he headed toward the door.

Minutes earlier, he had carried her to the bathroom, gently helped her bathe and wash away the cold sweat clinging to her skin, then dressed her in fresh pajamas. Now he stood by the threshold, one hand braced on the doorframe, the other clenched into a white-knuckled fist at his side.

He didn’t turn around, and she knew why. He was trying to shield the raw fury blazing in his eyes from her view. She had caught a terrifying glimpse of them in the bathroom mirror; the glowing fusion of crimson red and pitch black, and the ruthless expression set into his features.

Once again, she was reminded that her husband harbored a demonic side, a dark presence he kept hidden from her.

”Dorian?” she called out tentatively when he remained silent.

”Wait here for me,” he answered finally, avoiding her question. ”I’ll be back soon.”

”Tell me where you’re going,” she insisted, taking a step forward.

”You don’t need to know. Just stay in the room.”

”You’re going after Joffrey, aren’t you?” she whispered.

His jaw clenched hard at the mention of his cousin’s name. He didn’t speak, but his silence was answer enough.

Alyssa hurried to where he stood, carefully placing her hand over his tense forearm.

”Dorian, I know you aren’t going to like hearing this,” she began softly. ”But as your wife, and as your Luna, I have to try.”

​”If you are about to ask me to let this go, don’t,” Dorian cut her off sharply. ”Don’t do it, Alyssa. The last thing I want right now is to direct this rage toward you.”

​”Dorian...”

”Don’t beg for him!” he snapped, turning his furious eyes to lock onto hers. ”Don’t you fucking beg for him!”

”I’m not begging for him,” she replied as calmly as she could manage. ”But I know what you are capable of when you lose control. If you confront him like this, you will kill him.”

”Death would be a mercy compared to what I have planned for him,” Dorian muttered, his tone dripping with venom. ”When he went after Elvira years ago, I let it pass. But not this time.”

He stepped through the ruined door and said over his shoulder, ”I’ll be back soon.” Then he stormed off, leaving Alyssa standing alone in the silence.

He descended the stairs without a sound, slipped past the main entrance, and headed towards the shadowed tree line of the forest, ignoring the vehicles parked in the driveway.

The moment he put distance between himself and the patrolling perimeter guards, he dropped low and shifted. Bones cracked loudly, rearranging and expanding into the monstrous frame of his Lycan.

Dark fur erupted across his flesh as his muscles tore and reformed, giving rise to the massive beast. With a guttural snarl, he sprinted into the night, leaping over massive roots and fallen trunks as he tore through the woods toward Conri’s villa.

At Conri’s villa, the few guards assigned to the night watch had dozed off at their posts. The villa sat in absolute silence, interrupted only by the faint creaking of nocturnal insects.

Suddenly, a violent crash shattered the silence as the front door splintered inward.

Conri bolted upright in bed, his eyes flashing dark gold as his Lycan surged to the surface. His first thought was an intrusion–a rogue or a thief foolish enough to break in.

He swung his legs out, grabbed his cane, and limped hastily out of his bedroom. Halfway down the stairs, he froze, his blood running cold as he spotted Dorian standing in the foyer in his human form.

One look at his nephew’s face told him something terrible had occurred.

”Where is Joffrey?” Dorian demanded, his voice dangerously low.

”Dorian!” Conri snapped, hurrying down the remaining steps. ”What madness is this? Why are you barging in here?”

”Where is Joffrey?” Dorian repeated, his eerie composure striking a chord of pure dread in Conri’s chest.

”What do you want with him?” Conri pressed. ”What has he done now?”

”I have no issue with you, Conri,” Dorian said softly, taking measured steps forward until he stood towering inches from his uncle’s face. ”My business tonight is with Joffrey. Where is he?”

”You cannot burst into my home like a madman and demand for my son!” Conri shot back, his voice rising. ”It is the middle of the night, Dorian! Have some fucking respect!”

A door slammed open on the upper floor, and Bethany rushed out onto the landing, frantically tying the sash of her robe. Her hair was disheveled, her face flushed from sleep.

”What is happening?” she yelled, hurrying down the stairs. ”What’s going on down here?”

”Go back to your room, Beth!” Conri ordered harshly. ”Dorian was just leaving...”

”I am asking you one last time, Conri,” Dorian interrupted, his eyes darkening further. ”If I do not get an answer, you will feel the full weight of my wrath. Where the fuck is Joffrey?”

”How dare you come into my home and threaten me?” Conri bellowed, trembling with indignation. ”You have no right, you arrogant boy! Get out of my house before I...”

Before the sentence could leave his mouth, Dorian pulled back his arm and drove his fist straight into Conri’s jaw.

The force of the blow launched Conri backward off his feet. He hit the marble floor with a heavy thud and a painful groan, blood instantly sputtering from his mouth and nose.

Bethany screamed, backing away from Dorian in terror before dropping to her knees at her husband’s side.

The perimeter guards who had initially dozed off burst into the living room, claws emerging. But the moment they recognized the Alpha King and felt the crushing pressure of his aura, their courage shattered. They dropped to their knees on the floor, cowering away in terror.

Dorian took a step forward, his knuckles stained with Conri’s blood. His expression hadn’t shifted; it had only hardened into pure, unadulterated malice.

”Produce your son, or every single person in this house will suffer the consequences,” he commanded.

”YOU HAVE GONE OUT OF YOUR MIND!” Bethany shrieked, wrapping her arms protectively around Conri, who was struggling to draw breath. ”You lay hands on your own uncle? How dare you?”

Dorian began to advance on her, but mid-stride, he abruptly stopped. His nostrils flared as the foul, unmistakable stench of cigarette smoke drifted across the air.

He whipped his head to the side, his vision narrowing sharply.

Through the doorway, Joffrey was casually strolling towards the front door, staring down at his phone while a lit cigarette dangled from his lips.

A smug, sickening grin stretched across his mouth. He was so engrossed in his screen that he had no idea what he was stepping into.

The moment he crossed the threshold, he looked up, and the grin vanished instantly. He took in the chaos: his father bleeding on the floor, his mother sobbing, the guards kneeling in submission, and Dorian standing in the center of it all.

The second his eyes met Dorian’s, Joffrey realized exactly why his cousin was there. He dropped his phone and attempted to crouch and shift, but it was already too late.

Dorian moved, his form blurring across the living room. He closed the distance in a fraction of a second, his hand clamping around Joffrey’s throat. Razor-sharp claws tore out, digging deep into his skin.

He hoisted Joffrey off his feet with one arm and slammed him violently against the wall.

”You touched my wife,” he growled, his voice a feral, demonic rasp as both Shadow and Soren took total control. ”I am going to rip you apart, Joffrey.”

”You... you can’t touch me,” Joffrey choked, straining against the suffocating grip. ”I am a Gamma... under your rule... the law of Wintercrest protects me...”

He let out a raspy laugh, baring his blood-stained teeth. ”You’re wasting your time, Dorian... I will take Alyssa from you... eventually...”

That was the limit of Dorian’s restraint. He bared his fangs, his eyes bursting into a blazing, terrifying crimson glow.

With a monstrous roar, he slammed Joffrey onto the floor, mounted him, and began pummeling his face with his bare fists.

With every brutal strike, bone cracked and blood splattered across the floor. Joffrey tried desperately to raise his arms and shield his head, but it was useless against Dorian’s rage, and his supernatural strength.

Bethany screamed hysterically from where she knelt, powerless to intervene. Conri trembled with helpless rage, pinned by his injuries. The guards remained frozen, terrified to move a muscle as they watched the Alpha King brutally destroy his cousin.

Dorian had completely lost his mind to the bloodlust. Reason and mercy had evaporated, leaving behind only the burning urge to kill.

Joffrey’s struggles grew weaker as he drifted toward unconsciousness. His face was unrecognizable–his nose crushed, his lips split wide, both eyes swollen shut beneath a mask of blood.

Just as Dorian’s claws fully unsheathed, snapping back to deliver the death blow to Joffrey’s throat, another massive Lycan slammed into his side, tackling him off the broken body.