Ruin Me, Alpha-Chapter 23: The Alpha’s Intoxicated Confession

After leaving his office, I returned later that evening, door to the office clicked shut behind me with the soft finality of a coffin lid.

Devon didn’t turn from the floor-to-ceiling window. City lights glittered across the glass, reflecting in his grey eyes like scattered stars. One hand in his pocket, the other cradling a crystal tumbler of amber liquor. Black shirt open at the throat, sleeves rolled to the elbow. He looked like sin poured into tailored clothes.

I stayed by the door, arms folded, the micro-SD card burning a hole against my skin inside my bra.

He spoke first, voice low and calm. "That file you copied. The one with the Northern witness. What exactly do you plan to do with it, darling?"

I lifted my chin. "Keep it. So every time I start forgetting what kind of monster you are, I can remind myself."

A slow, dreamy smile curved his mouth. He turned, eyes heavy-lidded, drinking me in like I was the liquor in his glass. He moved to the couch and sank onto it.

"Come here."

My feet moved before my brain caught up. I stopped a foot away. He reached out, fingers brushing my hip, tugging until I sat between his spread thighs.

"Sit."

I sank onto the couch beside him, instead. The second my body touched the leather, he shifted, pulling me against his side. Heat rolled off him in waves. My head found the curve of his shoulder like it belonged there. I hated how instantly I melted.

He took a slow sip of his drink. Then his hand came up, fingers gripping my jaw, tilting my face to his. His thumb pressed against my lower lip, forcing my mouth open just enough.

"Open wider."

I did.

He brought the glass to his own lips, took a mouthful, and leaned in. Warm liquor flooded my tongue straight from his mouth, followed by the slow drag of his tongue against mine. The kiss was wet, filthy, deliberate. Lips smacking, breath mingling, the taste of smoky whiskey and pure Devon.

I swallowed everything he gave me and kissed him harder, chasing the burn.

He pulled back just enough to speak against my swollen lips. "I woke up alone last night. You weren’t beside me."

My heart kicked. "I saw the pictures, Devon. You watching me sleep when I was sixteen. Watching me undress. Watching me fuck Simon. I was terrified."

His eyes softened, almost tender. He kissed me again, slow and gentle this time, like an apology.

"I’m sorry I scared you," he whispered into my mouth. "I never wanted you afraid of me. Only wanted you to be mine."

I exhaled shakily. "It’s sick... but knowing you watched me that long, knowing you wanted me that badly, it made me wet."

His pupils blew wide. A low growl rumbled in his chest.

I hesitated, then asked the question clawing at me. "Did you watch me with Simon? All of it?"

"Yes." The word was rough, raw. "Every second. Every sound you made for him." He took another sip, throat working. "That night I went home and put my fist through a wall. Then I cut myself open just to feel something that wasn’t jealousy." He lifted his shirt aside, showing me the faint white scar just under his collarbone. "Couldn’t stand that he had you first. Hated myself for not taking you sooner."

My breath hitched.

He kept going, voice dropping to something reverent. "I have videos of you laughing in the rain. Crying at that stupid movie with the dog. The face you make when you come, fuck, Irene, I’ve memorized it. I built an empire and burned half the continent just to clear the path to you. And I’d do worse. I’d do it all again."

His forehead rested against mine. "You make me question my sanity, little wolf. Every single day."

He kissed me again, deeper, hungrier, hands sliding into my hair, angling my head exactly how he wanted. I moaned into his mouth, fingers digging into his shirt.

When we broke apart, his eyes were fluttering. "Feel... dizzy."

I brushed my thumb over his cheek, soft. "I took the toxin again. Smaller dose this time."

He huffed a laugh, drowsy and fond. "Knew it the second you kissed me." His words started slurring. "Last time... only knocked me out an hour. I woke up while you were punching in wrong codes. Heard every frustrated little growl you made."

His arm tightened around my waist even as his body grew heavier.

"Stay this time," he mumbled, head dropping to my shoulder. "Just... stay."

I pressed my lips to his temple. "Sleep, Alpha."

His breathing evened out, slow and deep. I sat there in the quiet, his massive frame curled into me like I was the only safe place in his world.

The city lights kept blinking outside.

And for the first time, I didn’t want to run.

I step into the dining room of his penthouse and the air changes.

Devon is standing by the long table, sleeves rolled up, tie already loosened, pouring red wine into crystal glasses like he owns the oxygen itself. The three council members (Elder Rowan, Elder Gwen, and Councilor Holt) are laughing at something he said, but the second I cross the threshold in that vicious red dress, every voice dies.

I had put on one of my skimpiest dress because that message from Devon had said, "Dinner with the council members at my place, at nine pm sharp. Wear red."— Your favourite fuck buddy or not?

I shredded the paper. That fucking bastard is just two steps ahead. I had drugged him with that toxin, hoping to see an opportunity to talk to my father and tell him about how Devon is the real culprit behind the North massacre. But, I guess he already knows that because when I got to the cell, father was no longer there. It was empty.

I went back to my Omega’s quarters quietly while he was still unconscious from the toxin, three hours later, he sent the message, inviting me to a dinner.

His head snaps toward me in the dining room.

Grey eyes flare molten silver. The glass in his hand trembles, just once, before he sets it down with deliberate calm. His gaze drags down the plunging neckline, the way the silk clings to my waist, the slit that climbs damn near to sin. His jaw flexes so hard I hear it.

"Gentlemen," he says without looking away from me, voice low and lethal, "give us the room."

They scramble. Plates clatter. Chairs scrape. In ten seconds the dining room is empty except for the two of us and the scent of his hunger.

He stalks forward. I don’t move.

"You wore red," he growls.

"You told me to."

"I pictured it." He stops a breath away, towering. "I pictured this exact dress ripping under my hands. Didn’t do you justice."

Heat floods me, traitorous and instant. I tilt my chin. "Eyes up here, Alpha."

"Never." His knuckles brush the bare skin of my back where the dress dips low. "Fuck, Irene. You’re trying to kill me."

"Still breathing," I whisper.

He leans in, lips grazing my ear. "Not for long."

"Yes. Cos I will be changing that soon."

"Be my guest." He breathed.

Elder Rowan’s voice floats in from the hall. "Alpha Devon? The chef needs your approval on the—"

"Later," Devon barks, not turning. The poor man practically sprints away.

Devon’s hand slides to my wrist, thumb pressing over my pulse. "Come with me. Now."

He doesn’t wait. He pulls me through a side door, down a narrow corridor I’ve never seen, until we reach a heavy oak door. He shoulders it open and the cool, dim air of the wine cellar wraps around us. Bottles gleam in the low light. The door thuds shut behind us.

Darkness swallows everything but him.

He backs me against a rack of vintage Bordeaux, palms slamming on either side of my head. Caging me.

"Tell me you wore this for me," he demands, voice rough.

"Tell me you’re not insane for needing me to," I fire back.

"You beg to be fucked with every dress you put on to my house."

"Yes. I like to see you miserable and needy. I am in control of my body and it excites me to see you desperately needing it."

"I will shamelessly keep begging if that’s what you want."

"It would never move me."

A dark laugh rumbles out of him. "Too late."

His mouth crashes into mine.

No warning, no gentleness. Just teeth and tongue and eight years of starving. I bite his lower lip hard enough to taste copper and he groans like I’ve given him life. His hands are everywhere, sliding under the silk, gripping my thighs, lifting me until my legs lock around his waist and the bottles rattle behind me.

I fist his hair and yank his head back, lips crashing on him, sounds of our saliva embracing each other echoing in the dark wine-cellar. I withdrew from the kiss and yanked his head back even harder. "Will you do anything for me, Devon?"

"Fuck, yeah. I could start another war for you ask, baby."

I smirked and rocked against his hardness just once and twice, biting down on my lips. He groaned in response.

"Let’s fuck, Alpha." I start leaning in for another kiss when I smelt it.

"Someone’s in here," I hiss against his mouth. "I can smell them." It is very vague due to my weak powers but I still smelt it.

His eyes glint, amused and feral, not taking them off me. He already knows. He presses one finger to my lips. "Shh. Let them listen."

Then he kisses me again, slower this time, filthy slow, licking into my mouth like he’s memorizing every corner. His hand slips between us, cupping me through the dress, pressing just enough to make me whimper.

"Feel that?" he murmurs, grinding the hard line of his cock against me. "That’s what you do. Every fucking time you walk into a room."

I rock against him, shameless. "You dragged me in here to brag?"

"I dragged you in here because if I had to watch you in that dress one more second without touching you, I was going to snap someone’s neck."

His fingers find the slit in my dress and slide underneath. No panties (my small rebellion). He growls so deep the bottles tremble.

"Christ, Irene."

Two fingers push inside me without asking and I bite his shoulder to stay quiet. He pumps once, twice, curling exactly where he knows I break.

"Look at me," he orders.

I force my eyes open. His pupils are blown, lips swollen, hair wild from my hands. He looks possessed.

"You’re soaked," he rasps. "Tell me it’s all for me."

I clench around his fingers just to watch him shudder. "Who else?"

"I don’t know, Gideon?"

I froze, frowning at him. He was smirking. A dark smirk.

He slid another finger in.

"Have you gone mad, why are you bringing Gideon into this?"

He continues thrusting and I met his thrusts, riding my hips into them.

"Because sooner or later, he might be the other man."

A soundless moan escaped me. "Stop. Jealousy looks ugly on you. I’ll never let Gideon touch me."

That earns me another finger and a punishing kiss. He works me hard and fast, thumb circling my clit until my legs shake. I’m close, so close—

A voice echoes from the hallway. "Alpha Devon? We’re ready to serve the first course." One of the council members.

He stills but doesn’t pull out. His forehead drops to mine, breath ragged.

"Go," I pant, pushing at his chest. "They’ll come looking."

He withdraws his hand slowly, deliberately, then licks his fingers clean while staring straight into my soul.

"Later," he promises, voice black velvet, "I’m going to spread you out on that dining table and make you scream my name in front of every council member in this house. They’ll know exactly who you belong to."

"I wonder why you are yet to do that."

He smiled. He is so beautiful when he smiles. "Consent, angel. Like when I asked to fuck you in the cell before your father and you agreed." 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

"Shut up. Don’t make me pissed all over again."

He sets me down. My knees nearly give out.

He adjusts my dress, smooths my hair like he didn’t just wreck me, and presses one soft, reverent kiss to my swollen lips.

"Stay close," he murmurs. "I’m not done."

Then he’s gone, door clicking shut behind him.

The cellar is silent except for my heartbeat.

I drag air into my lungs, smooth the dress down my trembling thighs, and turn toward the shadows, my heart pounding. Who might it be? The person listening?

"You can come out now," I say into the dark.

A boot scuffs against stone.

He steps into the faint light, tall, familiar, and the floor drops out from under me.

Gideon.