Chapter 1: Drugged and Delivered to the Alpha
The bass from the speakers was a physical thing, a thump that vibrated up through the soles of her shoes and into her bones. The air in the frat house was thick, a humid soup of sweat, spilled beer, and a dozen different perfumes all fighting for dominance. Strobe lights sliced through the haze, freezing the writhing crowd in jagged, chaotic snapshots.
Destiny adjusted the hem of her dress—a tiny, black thing that clung to every curve—and wished she’d worn jeans. She’d let her friends from the daycare talk her into this. It’ll be fun, they’d said. You never go out. Now Lacey and Michelle were lost somewhere in the pulsing mass on the dance floor, and Destiny was marooned by the kitchen island, holding a red plastic cup of something that smelled like chemical fruit punch.
She took a small sip. It was too sweet.
Her eyes, a warm brown, scanned the room without really seeing anyone. She was good at that, at making herself a spectator. The dress was armor, a costume of confidence she’d put on. Inside, the noise and the press of bodies made her want to find a quiet corner and just breathe.
Then she saw him.
Trevor was leaning against a doorway, his blond hair perfectly messy, his smile wide and white as he laughed at something a brunette in a sequined top was saying. Destiny’s stomach tightened. She hadn’t known he’d be here. Their breakup six months ago had been quiet, a fizzling out of something that was never really lit, but he’d gotten handsy at the end, pushy in a way that made her skin feel too tight. She’d told him no, firmly. He hadn’t liked it.
She turned sharply, presenting her back to the doorway, and pretended a deep fascination with a poster of a motorcycle taped to the fridge. Maybe he hadn’t seen her.
“Destiny? No way.”
The voice was right behind her. She closed her eyes for a second, painted on a smile, and turned.
“Hey, Trevor.”
“Look at you.” His gaze did a slow, obvious tour from her curls down to her heels. It felt less like appreciation and more like an inventory. “You never dressed like that for me.”
She shrugged, the gesture feeling stiff. “It’s a party.”
“Yeah, it is.” He sidled closer, the smell of his beer-tinged cologne cutting through the party funk. “You here alone?”
“With friends.” She took a step back, her spine meeting the cold edge of the kitchen counter. “They’re around.”
“You should ditch them. Hang with me. We never finished what we started, you know?” His smile turned conspiratorial. “I’ve missed you.”
Her grip tightened on her cup. “I’m good, Trevor. Really.”
His eyes flashed, just for a second, with that same irritation she remembered. Then it was gone, smoothed over by a practiced charm. “At least let me get you a fresh drink. That one’s gotta be warm sludge by now.”
Before she could refuse, he plucked the cup from her hand. His fingers brushed hers, deliberate. He turned to the crowded table of bottles and jugs, his body blocking her view. She saw his shoulders move, a quick, furtive dip. He was talking to some guy she didn’t know, laughing. When he turned back, he had two cups. He handed one to her.
“Peace offering,” he said, clinking his plastic against hers. “To old friends.”
She hesitated. The cup was cold, condensation beading on the side. It looked innocent. She was being paranoid. Saying no again would just make a scene, and all she wanted was for him to go away. She took a small, obligatory sip. It tasted the same—cloyingly sweet, with the sharp burn of cheap vodka underneath.
“See? Not so bad,” Trevor said, watching her over the rim of his own cup. His smirk was back.
A wave of dizziness hit her about five minutes later. It came out of nowhere, a sudden lurch in her head that made the strobe lights smear into long, blinding trails. The music seemed to swell, the bass pounding directly against her temples.
“Whoa, you okay?” Trevor’s hand was on her elbow, steadying her. His grip was firm.
“I… I think I need some air.” Her words sounded thick, distant, like someone else was saying them.
“I got you. C’mon.”
He began steering her, not toward the crowded front door, but down a dimly lit hallway lined with closed doors. The noise of the party receded, replaced by the muffled thump of the bass through the walls. Her feet felt clumsy, disconnected. One of her heels caught on a tear in the carpet and she stumbled.
“Easy does it,” Trevor murmured, his arm slipping around her waist. His touch was possessive. “Just a little further. There’s a quiet room up here.”
Panic, dulled by the fog in her brain, began to pulse. This was wrong. This was all wrong. She tried to plant her feet. “No. I want… the front door.”
“You’re in no shape, Des. Just relax.”
He pushed open a door. It was a bedroom, dark, smelling of stale laundry and weed. A single desk lamp cast a weak pool of light over a cluttered desk. He guided her toward the bed.
“Sit. Get your bearings.”
She sank onto the edge of the mattress, the room tilting. Trevor stood over her, his silhouette blotting out the light. He reached down and trailed a finger along her jawline. “Always playing hard to get. But we both know you wanted this. You just needed a little… help letting go.”
His words slithered through the haze, cold and clear. The drink. He’d put something in her drink. The realization was a spike of pure, undiluted fear. She tried to push his hand away, but her arm moved slowly, weakly, as if swimming through oil.
He chuckled, low and mean. “Tonight’s the night, Destiny. No more games.”
He leaned in, his breath hot on her neck. She recoiled, a pathetic, shuddering movement. With a last burst of will, she shoved against his chest. It was enough to make him step back, surprised. She scrambled off the bed, her legs buckling, and lunged for the door.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she heard him growl.
She didn’t look back. She yanked the door open and staggered into the hallway, her vision tunneling. The bass was louder here, the pulse of it syncing with the frantic hammer of her heart. She just had to get to the front door. Get outside. Get home.
The crowd in the main room was a blur of color and noise. She weaved through bodies, apologies dying in her throat. Someone bumped her hard from the side, and the world spun. Her knee gave way. She was falling.
But she didn’t hit the sticky floor.
Strong hands caught her, pulling her upright against a wall of solid muscle. The scent that hit her was different—clean, like soap and cold night air, cutting through the party’s stench.
“Whoa. You alright?”
The voice was deep, a rumble she felt more than heard. She looked up, her vision struggling to focus. The face above her was all sharp angles and shadow in the dim light. Dark, shoulder dreaded hair. Eyes so dark they seemed black, but they held her with an intensity that was almost physical. He wasn’t smiling. He was assessing.
“I… I need to leave,” she managed, her voice a thin thread.
His gaze flickered over her face, down to her trembling hands, then past her shoulder. She followed his look. Trevor was emerging from the hallway, his expression shifting from annoyance to a slick, possessive smile as he zeroed in on her.
“There you are, babe. Got lost on me.” Trevor came forward, reaching for her arm. “C’mon, let’s go back.”
The stranger’s arm, which had been steadying her, shifted. He didn’t release her, but instead moved subtly, placing his body between her and Trevor. It wasn’t a dramatic move, just a slight repositioning, but the implication was absolute.
“She said she needs to leave,” the stranger said. His tone was flat, casual even, but it carried a finality that silenced the music for a heartbeat in Destiny’s ears.
Trevor’s smile hardened. “Mind your business, man. She’s with me.”
Those dark eyes never left Trevor’s. “Doesn’t look like it.” He glanced down at Destiny. “You with him?”
The chemical fog was still there, but the clarity of her fear cut through. “No,” she whispered. Then, stronger, “No.”
The stranger nodded once. He looked back at Trevor. “You heard her.”
For a long moment, they just stood there, the noise of the party swirling around their silent standoff. Trevor’s jaw worked. He was weighing his options, his pride. Finally, he sneered, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “Whatever. She’s not worth the drama anyway.” He shot Destiny a look that promised this wasn’t over, then melted back into the crowd.
The sudden absence of the threat left her trembling. The adrenaline dip made the drugged feeling surge back, stronger. Her legs went liquid.
“Easy,” the stranger said, his grip firming, holding her entirely now. “Can you walk?”
She shook her head, a minute, pathetic motion. Humiliation burned her cheeks.
Without another word, he bent and slid one arm under her knees, the other around her back, lifting her against his chest as if she weighed nothing. She instinctively curled into him, her head lolling against his shoulder. He smelled so good, so real. He carried her through the crowd, which parted for him without a word. He shouldered open the front door, and the cold night air hit her face like a slap.
He didn’t stop on the porch. He carried her down the steps and across the littered lawn, away from the pounding music, toward the quieter street where rows of cars were parked under the sodium glow of streetlights.
“My… my friends are inside,” she mumbled into his shirt.
“You’re in no state for friends.” His voice was close to her ear. “Where do you live?”
She told him. It was an old, automatic response. He altered his course, walking with a steady, ground-eating stride. She should have been terrified, being carried off by a man whose name she didn’t know. But the menace that had cloaked Trevor was absent here. This felt like being claimed, sheltered. In her fuzzy, desperate state, it felt like safety.
He stopped beside a sleek, black car. Not a sporty one, something lower, longer. He shifted her weight, managing to open the passenger door and lower her into the seat with surprising gentleness. He leaned over her to fasten the seatbelt, his face inches from hers. In the dome light, she saw his features clearly for the first time. The sharp cut of his cheekbones, the full, unsmiling mouth, the intense focus in those dark, dark eyes. They scanned her face again, and something flickered in their depths—a spark of recognition, of a hunger so primal it momentarily burned away the drug’s haze.
He saw it, too. That she’d seen it. He didn’t look away.
“Jakire,” he said, his voice low. “My name is JaKire.”
Destiny blinked, her mind clinging to the name. JaKire. It felt heavy, significant.
He straightened, closed her door, and walked around the front of the car. The engine purred to life, a deep, vibrating sound. He pulled away from the curb, the frat house shrinking in the rearview mirror, its windows pulsing with light like a dying star.
Destiny watched his profile as he drove, the strong line of his jaw tight. She was in a car with a stranger, leaving everything familiar behind. The night air rushing from the vent was cold, but a different kind of heat was spreading through her, one that had nothing to do with the tainted drink and everything to do with the quiet, dangerous man beside her. One chapter had ended, violently, in a dark bedroom. Another was speeding into the unknown on silent tires, and she was too dizzy, too captivated, to even think of jumping out.
Another was speeding into the unknown on silent tires, and she was too dizzy, too captivated, to even think of jumping out.
“Turn left up here,” she murmured, her head resting against the cool window. The streetlights streaked past in golden smears.
JaKire drove in silence for a few more blocks. “Which house?”
The question punctured her fog. Which house? Her cozy, grandmother-left bungalow with the porch swing was… not here. It was a thirty-minute drive away, in a quiet suburb this college town only dreamed of being. She’d carpooled with Lacey. Saying “Maple Crest Drive” meant nothing. It was just a name. The fog turned into a thick, disorienting wall.
“I… I don’t live in this town.” The admission was slurred, thick with shame and confusion. “I came with friends. I don’t… I can’t remember the address right now.” A tear of frustration leaked from the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry. You can just… drop me anywhere. A gas station.”
He didn’t answer. His hands, large and capable on the steering wheel, tightened slightly. He drove past the turn she’d vaguely indicated. The neighborhoods shifted, the houses growing farther apart, the trees taller and darker against the night sky. They climbed, the car’s engine a low purr as the streetlights became fewer.
“It’s not safe,” he said finally, his voice cutting through the hum of the tires. “Not in your condition. Not with that guy possibly circling. You’re sleeping this off somewhere secure. Then I’ll get you home.”
“Where?” The word was a whisper.
“My place.”
It should have terrified her. Every instinct her grandmother had ever drilled into her should have screamed. But the only instinct operating now was a primal, deep-seated trust in the solid, quiet man beside her. The one who’d plucked her from a predator’s path without asking for anything. She nodded, her cheek rubbing against the glass, and let her eyes fall shut.
The car slowed, turning onto a gravel drive that crunched under the tires. She forced her eyes open. They were approaching a large, rustic house of stone and dark wood, nestled against a thick line of pines. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was substantial, powerful-looking. Lights glowed from several windows. As they got closer, she saw other shapes in the darkness—smaller cabins, the glint of other cars. A compound.
He parked in front of the main house and came around to her side. He didn’t lift her this time, but helped her out, his arm a firm band around her waist, taking most of her weight as they climbed the steps to a broad porch. The front door was heavy. He shouldered it open.
The inside was warm, all exposed beams and deep colors. It smelled of woodsmoke, leather, and something else—something clean and wild, like the air after a thunderstorm. A guy with a shaved head looked up from a massive couch in the great room, a game controller in his hand. He raised a brow, a slow smile spreading.
“Brought home a stray, Ja?”
“She’s not a stray, Kael. She’s a guest.” JaKire’s tone left no room for further comment. “Needs a quiet place to sleep it off.”
Kael’s eyes, a lighter, friendlier brown, swept over Destiny with open curiosity but no malice. “Guest room’s free.”
“She stays in my room.”
The statement hung in the air, simple and absolute. Kael’s smile turned knowing. He just nodded and turned back to his game. JaKire guided her down a hallway, away from the common space, and into a room at the end.
His room was dominated by a large, low bed covered in a dark grey duvet. The furnishings were sparse—a dresser, a chair, a bookshelf buckling under the weight of titles. It was intensely masculine, and it smelled like him, that soap-and-night-air scent, but deeper here, ingrained in the fabrics.
“Bathroom’s through there.” He pointed to a door. “You need to be sick?”
She shook her head. The dizziness was shifting, the chemical edge softening into a heavy, warm lethargy. He sat her on the edge of the bed and crouched before her, his hands going to the thin straps of her heels. He slid them off, his fingers brushing her ankles. The touch was electric, a current that shot straight up her spine. He looked up at her, and the proximity was overwhelming. His dark eyes held hers.
“You should drink some water.” He stood, fetched a bottle from a small fridge in the corner, and handed it to her. She took small sips, the cold liquid a shock to her system.
He gave her space then, moving around the room, shedding his own jacket. She watched the play of muscle under his dark shirt. The fear was gone. In its place was a low, gathering hum of awareness. The drug had muted her inhibitions, but it hadn’t created this feeling; it had only stripped away the walls that normally contained it. This was all her.
“Lie down,” he said, his back to her as he placed his wallet and keys on the dresser. “Sleep.”
She didn’t lie down. She stood, her legs steadier now, and the tiny dress felt impossibly tight, the fabric a whisper against her sensitized skin. He turned and saw her standing there, saw the look on her face. The air in the room compressed, grew hot.
“I don’t want to sleep,” she heard herself say, her voice no longer slurred but clear, soft.
He went very still. “What do you want, Destiny?”
The sound of her name in that rough, deep voice undid her. She crossed the space between them, stopping just shy of touching him. She looked up, her brown eyes wide, shy but unwavering. “I want to not feel confused anymore. I want to feel something real.”
A low sound rumbled in his chest. He brought a hand up, cupping her jaw, his thumb stroking the apple of her cheek. “You’re not in your right mind.”
“I am right now. In this mind. This is the only one that matters.” She leaned into his touch. “Please.”
That single word broke his control. His mouth crashed down on hers.
It wasn’t gentle. It was claiming, starving, a conflagration. His tongue swept into her mouth, and she met him with a hunger that shocked her. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer. He walked her backward until her knees hit the bed and she tumbled onto the soft duvet, him coming down over her, a delicious, solid weight.
His mouth left hers to trail fire down her throat. “This dress,” he growled against her skin, “has been driving me insane since I saw you.” He found the zipper at her side and pulled it down in one sharp sound. He peeled the fabric from her, his breath catching as she was revealed to him. “Look at you. Fucking perfect.”
His hands were everywhere, calloused and hot, learning her curves, worshipping her skin. He took her breast into his mouth, his tongue lashing her nipple, and she cried out, back arching. The sensitivity was unbearable, exquisite. He shifted, his knee nudging her legs apart, settling between them. The rough texture of his jeans against her bare thighs was a thrilling contrast.
“You feel that?” he murmured, his lips at her ear. He rocked his hips, the hard ridge of his erection pressing against her core through the layers of denim and her lace panties. “That’s what you do to me. That’s all for you.”
She was liquid and flame, every nerve ending screaming. She’d never been touched like this, never wanted like this. The shy girl was gone, burned away by a need so profound it felt ancestral. She tangled her hands in his dreads, pulling his mouth back to hers. “Ja,” she breathed, the nickname falling from her lips as naturally as a sigh. “Daddy… please.”
The word ignited him. He rose up on his knees, stripping his shirt over his head. The dim light played over the defined planes of his chest, the taut abdomen, the tattoos that swirled over his shoulder and down his arm. He made quick work of his jeans and boxers, and then he was there, fully revealed, thick and erect and intimidating. Her eyes widened, a flicker of virgin fear returning.
He saw it. He gentled, brushing her hair back from her face. “I’ll go slow. I’ll take care of you. Tell me to stop and everything stops. Always.” His voice was a ragged promise.
She nodded, trusting him with her life, with this. He hooked his fingers in the sides of her panties and drew them down, his eyes dark pools of heat as he looked at her, completely bare and open for him. He reached for a condom on the nightstand, sheathed himself with a quick, practiced motion she was too hazy to question.
He came back over her, kissing her deeply, pouring reassurance into her. His hand slid down her stomach, through her curls, finding her wet and ready. He stroked her, a slow, circling pressure that made her whimper and buck against his hand.
“So ready for me,” he whispered, his voice thick with awe. He positioned himself, the broad head of his cock nudging at her entrance. His eyes locked onto hers. “Look at me, Destiny.”
She did. And as he began to push forward, a slow, inexorable invasion that stretched and burned in the most profound way, she saw it. His dark, bottomless eyes shimmered, the brown melting away like ink in water, replaced by a luminous, radiant gold. A pure, predatory gold that saw straight into the heart of her.
She gasped, the sensation of him filling her, breaching her barrier, mingling with the shock of his eyes. “Your… your eyes…”
“It’s you,” he rasped, his body trembling with the effort of his control as he sunk deeper, finally fully seated inside her, joining them. “Only you make me see in color.” He held still, letting her adjust, his golden eyes blazing with an emotion she couldn’t name. “You okay? Am I hurting you?”
The initial sting was fading, replaced by a fullness so complete it stole her breath. She felt owned, claimed, and utterly safe. She moved her hips experimentally, a tiny rock, and they both groaned at the sensation.
“No,” she breathed. “No, it’s… more. Don’t stop.”
He began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that was instantly addictive. Each stroke dragged a moan from her throat. The pleasure built, a coiling, urgent pressure deep in her belly. The sight of his golden eyes watching her, reverent and fierce, drove her higher.
“That’s it,” he urged, his pace increasing. His words were a hot, dirty promise in her ear. “Take all of me. Come on, let me feel you. Let me feel you come around my cock. I need it.”
His vulgarity, so raw and honest, shattered her last restraint. The coil snapped. A wave of pleasure crashed over her, so intense her vision whited out. She cried out, a broken sound of pure release, her inner walls clenching around him rhythmically.
The sight and feel of her coming pushed him over the edge. With a guttural groan that was almost a howl, he drove into her one last, deep time and stilled, his own release pulsing into her. He collapsed beside her, gathering her shaking body against his, his face buried in her hair.
They lay there, tangled and spent, the only sound their ragged breathing slowly calming. The golden light in his eyes faded slowly, back to that deep, familiar brown. She traced his jaw, her mind floating in a haze of endorphins and wonder. She’d write the eye color off to the drugs, to the intensity of the moment. A beautiful, strange hallucination.
But the feeling coursing through her veins was no hallucination. It was solid, real. A profound, echoing satisfaction that settled deep in her bones. She had been waiting, though she hadn’t known for what. And now, in this strange room in this strange house, in the arms of a man whose name she’d known for less than an hour, she had found it.
She nuzzled into his chest, a soft, contented sigh escaping her lips.