Claimed By The Coldhearted Billionaire Alpha

ESSIE POV:

I bit down on my lower lip. The metallic taste of blood bloomed on my tongue. I wouldn't make a sound. I wouldn't let him hear me break.

Damien felt the rigid resistance in my body. That silent, stubborn withdrawal. A low growl rumbled in his chest—pure, primal frustration.

"Damn it," he rasped against my ear.

And then something shifted.

The brutal force of him eased, slowing with a reluctance that felt like a battle being fought somewhere inside him.

I noticed the change. But fear had frozen my heart solid, and I stayed curled inside it, too scared to let go.

Another sound rumbled from his chest—low, tortured, almost pained. Then he stopped. He didn't take that final step.

He didn't bite me.

The irrevocable mark never came. It took me a moment to even register what had happened.

The restraint was so unexpected it cut through the haze of pain and terror like cold water.

Then it was over.

I scrambled to the farthest edge of the bed, curling into a tight ball with my back to him. Like a wounded animal seeking shelter in the dark. My shoulders shook with silent, wracking sobs.

Damien lay on the other side. Even from a distance, I could feel the heat of his body—scorching, heavy. Whatever satisfaction he might have felt was quickly swallowed by a suffocating silence. I could feel his emptiness, his self-disgust, seeping into the air like poison.

I felt him move. The mattress dipped slightly. I flinched, bracing for another touch.

He had reached for me—I could feel it—his hand suspended in the space between us. Then he let it fall.

Instead, he pulled the duvet up and tucked it gently over my bare, trembling shoulders.

The gesture was so soft, so unexpectedly tender, it didn't fit with anything that had just happened. My body went rigid. And the tears I'd been holding back finally spilled over, soaking into the silk pillowcase.

He lay there in the dark for what felt like forever, listening to my choked, muffled sobs. The silence between us was so thick I could taste it. I wondered, dimly, if the new, raw bond between us meant he could feel even a fraction of what I felt.

Eventually, exhaustion and misery dragged me into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

Only then did he move.

Carefully, so carefully, he shifted closer and gathered my sleeping body into his arms. His touch was impossibly light—like he was holding something that might shatter.

The first light of dawn was slipping through the window when Damien woke.

He woke to an empty embrace.

He sat up abruptly, his Alpha instincts screaming, his body instantly on alert.

Then he saw me.

I was already dressed in the simple gray dress the staff had laid out. I stood by the closet entrance, his suit for the day draped neatly over my arm.

My face was pale. My eyes were hollow. But my movements were precise, mechanical. A perfectly trained servant.

When my eyes met his, I trembled slightly. I silently walked toward him, stepping on the thick carpet.

"Alpha," I said, my voice a hoarse whisper. "Your clothes."

The title. The submissive posture. It landed on him like a slap. His brow furrowed, the lines of displeasure cutting deep across his face. Whatever small tenderness he'd shown last night, whatever battle he'd fought with his own wolf—it had meant nothing to me. Left no mark.

He took the suit from my arm. His fingers brushed mine. My hand was cold as marble.

I snatched it back like I'd been burned.

He stared at me, his gray eyes unreadable. His mouth opened as if to say something, but the words died before they could form. All that came out was a single, cold command.

"Get out."

Relief flooded through me. I turned without a word and fled, swift and silent.

Damien watched me go, his jaw tight. He ran a hand through his dark hair in pure frustration.

He walked to the window and lit a cigarette, smoke curling around him like a shroud. He stared out at the manicured lawns, his mind a chaos of emotions he couldn't name.

He'd thought having me, possessing me, would fill the strange, aching void he'd carried for years.

Instead, the emptiness had only grown.

Downstairs, in the cold, silent hallway, I leaned against the wall, my legs threatening to give out. The terror of the night and the strain of my morning performance had drained every last ounce of strength from me.