Her Alpha's Claim; Hockey King's Curvy Mate

Bella's POV.

I stood outside the Northwood Pack House with my arms wrapped tight around myself, staring up at the tall stone walls glowing faintly under the porch lights.

My stomach twisted with every step I took toward the front doors. A guard met me before I even reached them, nodding once like he had been expecting me, and led me inside without a single word.

The halls were wide and quiet, lined with old portraits of past Alphas, and my sneakers felt too loud against the polished floor. By the time we reached a heavy wooden door near the end of a long corridor, my palms were damp with sweat.

The guard knocked twice, then pushed the door open and stepped aside to let me through.

Dominic's quarters were bigger than I expected, with a large bed against the far wall and smooth dark furniture that looked like it had never once been touched by mess or clutter.

The window on the other side of the room was cracked open, letting in a cool breeze, and Dominic stood in front of it with his back to me, his shoulders set and still.

He turned the moment the door clicked shut behind me, and my breath caught in my throat. He was not wearing his mask.

I had only ever seen his full face twice before, once at the ceremony under bright lights and again in the locker room while my mind was too scattered with fear to really look.

But now, standing there in the soft glow of his bedroom, I let my eyes travel slowly across every part of his face.

His jaw was sharp and strong, his gray eyes even more intense up close, and near the edge of his jaw, I noticed a faint mark, small and pale, like an old scar that had healed a long time ago.

I stared a little too long, wondering where it came from and what had put it there.

"What are you looking at?" Dominic snapped, his voice suddenly harsh enough to make me jump.

His eyes had gone sharp, almost defensive, like my staring had touched something he did not want touched. "Do I look that strange to you without the mask?"

I flinched at the sudden change in his tone, my whole body going stiff.

"No," I said quickly, my voice small. "I wasn't trying to— I just noticed a mark near your jaw. I didn't mean anything by it."

He seemed to catch himself then, his jaw tightening as he looked away from me, toward the window.

A few seconds of silence passed before he spoke again, quieter this time, like he was forcing the harshness back down.

"It's nothing," he muttered. He walked over to the small table by his bed and picked up the black mask resting there, turning it over slowly in his hands like it weighed more than it looked.

"My wolf is wild. Harder to control than most. I wear this to keep myself in check. When people can't see my face, they can't read what I'm feeling. It helps me stay steady."

I nodded slowly, watching the way his fingers traced the edge of the mask like it was something he both hated and needed.

I understood more than he probably realized. I knew what it felt like to hide behind something just to survive each day, to build a wall so no one could see how close you were to falling apart.

I did not say any of that out loud. I just let him keep talking, sensing that this was the closest he had come to opening up to anyone in a long time.

He walked slowly around the edge of the room while he spoke, like standing still made the words harder to say.

He told me that his wolf had been different from the moment he was born, stronger and angrier than anything the pack elders had ever seen in a boy his age, and that his father had decided early on that the only answer was control, not comfort.

There had been no gentle lessons, he said, only strict ones. No one had ever taught him how to sit with fear or grief without turning it into something sharp enough to survive on.

The mask, he admitted, started as a punishment tool his father used to make him hide his emotions from the pack, and somewhere along the way it had become the only thing that made Dominic feel safe in his own skin.

Hearing him say it so plainly, without asking for pity, made my chest ache in a way I had not expected.

He set the mask back down and took a step toward me, his hand lifting slightly like he meant to touch my arm.

Before I could stop myself, I flinched hard and pulled back, my whole body bracing on instinct.

The second the flinch happened, something flickered across Dominic's face, quick and sharp, like actual pain had cut through him for a moment.

He covered it fast, his expression sliding back into that familiar cold mask even without the real one in his hands.

He stepped back and crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

"I'm not Elias," he said, his voice low. "I won't hurt you."

Hearing him say it out loud, so plainly, loosened something tight in my chest.

I felt the fear in my body ease, just a little, enough that I reached out first this time and let my fingers brush against his hand.

"I know," I whispered. "I'm just scared. A little."

Dominic looked down at where our hands had almost touched, and something in his shoulders relaxed.

He told me quietly about the nights his wolf clawed at the inside of his chest, desperate to break free, about the years he spent learning to bury every feeling so deep that nothing could slip through the cracks.

He said his father raised him to believe that softness was weakness, that showing anyone your fear only gave them a way to use it against you.

I listened to every word, surprised at how much he was giving me without me even having to ask.

"You don't have to be scared of me," he said finally, his voice calmer now than I had ever heard it.

He reached out again, slower this time, and lifted my hand in his.

My heart pounded as he bent his head and pressed his lips softly against my knuckles. The warmth of it spread all the way up my arm.

"But I need time. I need you to trust me."

I nodded, my chest full of something warm and fragile that I was almost afraid to name.

For the first time since the video, since the ceremony, since everything that had gone wrong that week, I felt something close to safe standing there in his room.

It scared me almost as much as it comforted me, but I let myself hold onto it anyway.

Dominic walked me slowly through the rest of his quarters before I left, pointing out a smaller room connected to his own that he said would be mine whenever I chose to stay.

It had its own bed and a wide dresser, empty and waiting, like he had already planned this before I ever agreed to any of it.

I ran my fingers along the edge of the dresser, trying to imagine my life folded into a space inside his world, and something about the idea felt both terrifying and strangely hopeful at the same time.

When it was finally time for me to leave, Dominic walked me to the door and told me to head straight home, promising he would check on me later.

I stepped out into the hallway alone, my mind still replaying the feel of his lips against my knuckles, when raised voices from somewhere down the corridor stopped me cold.

I froze near a corner, my back pressed instinctively against the wall. The voice was loud, sharp with fury, an older man's voice that carried easily through the stone halls.

"You claimed that chubby girl? The one from the video? You're really willing to embarrass this pack, Dominic?"

My whole body went numb.

I recognized the venom in those words instantly, the same kind of cruelty the whole school had thrown at me just days ago, except this time it came dressed in authority, in a voice that clearly expected to be obeyed.

Then I heard Dominic answer, his tone dropping into something low and dangerous, colder than I had ever heard him speak even to me.

"I want you to know that she is my mate," he said. "Touch her, and I'll destroy you."

My breath caught in my throat.

I did not need to see the man's face to know exactly who he was. Only one person in this pack held enough power to make even Dominic's voice shift like that, hard and warning and afraid all at once.

Dominic's father