Traded To The Cruel Alpha - Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Serafine POV
The moment I step into the bedroom, I try to focus. My body is still aching from last night, and my mind is spinning from that conversation with Xander. I don't understand why he thinks I'm lying about things. His rules and expectations, and then his need to control every part of me, are unnerving. He follows me to my bedroom, and I know what is coming next even before the door clicks shut behind us.
I'm not looking forward to this; it's painful, and he doesn't care about that. I barely have the time to take a breath before his hand grips my arm and stops me. His fingers are warm against my skin. It's a firm hold but not forceful. My pulse jumps as he steps even closer, and the heat of his body pressing into my back is consuming.
Something about this feels different from last night. He's almost slow and deliberate. He's not rushing or brutal, but he is still in control. His fingers stroke my wrist gently before sliding up my arm. His touch moves over my shoulder before gliding down the curve of my back. It sends a shiver through me, and I hate that I react to his touch.
Keeping my head forward I try to even out my breathing, waiting for his next move or the command he's going to speak. Maybe cruelty because he believes I lied at the table?
His fingers dip lower, trailing over my waist and pressing lightly against my hip. "I took something from you last night," he says. His breath is warm against my ear, and his voice is low and smooth. "Something I can't give back, but I should have given you something for it."
I don't know what the hell I'm meant to say to that. Then again, I don't think he's expecting an answer from me. I feel his fingers slide lower, gripping the thin silk covering my body. I feel the fabric shift under his hands. He strokes his palm over my stomach. His movements are slow and calculated. It's like he's ensuring I feel every inch of his touch.
My breath hitches, and I hate it.
My body is spun around effortlessly, forcing me to face him. My eyes flicker up, and they lock onto his gaze. It's sharp, assessing and filled with something unreadable.
He sighs like he's disappointed, and I get ready for the hit. "I'm not a monster Serafine," he murmurs. Wait, he's disappointed in himself, not me? His fingers tilt my chin up, forcing me to hold his gaze. "I don't take without giving back."
Swallowing hard, my body betrays me with the way my skin prickles beneath his touch. Maybe not, but this is wrong. "I don't want your pity," I whisper, my voice barely even audible.
I watch his lips curl slightly.
"Good, because I wasn't offering you that or an apology." Then what is he doing?
His hand presses against my back, and he walks forward, guiding me toward the bed. I'm not even sure what to do right now. Is this him giving me something back for using me last night?
His hands begin to move over my body with slow, deliberate intent. His fingertips skim across my waist and down my hips. He's exploring my body now, rather than taking. His touch is warm and controlled, and nothing like the rough, punishing grip from last night.
I know that I should resist, that I should pull away before my body betrays me and the head of his touch sends more shivers down my spine.
He notices; of course, he does. His golden eyes darken slightly as he catches every movement and reaction I make. He doesn't smile or smirk like he's winning, but there's still something in his expression that says he's pleased I reacted.
Leaning in, his lips brush against my jaw. "I meant what I said," he murmurs against my skin. "I don't ever take without giving back."
His hands slide under the silk, and slowly, he pushes it up. The tips of his fingers stroke along my skin as he pulls it higher. He lifts it over my head, and the cool air hits my skin, but it's nothing compared to the heat radiating from his body.
I should really feel exposed, but the way he's looking at me, like he's discovering me and not just using me, sends something unfamiliar curling in my stomach.
The silk drops to the floor, and his fingers brush against the light bruises appearing on my thighs from the force of last night. "I won't let you think that is all there is," he says quietly. "You'll learn that pleasure is just as much mine to give to you as it is to take."
There's no rush; he's taking his time, ensuring I feel everything. His lips press against mine, claiming me. It's slow and consuming, and I realise something. This is exactly what terrifies me the most. For the first time, I don't just endure; I react, and I crave more.
His lips move down my jaw, slowly kissing down my neck. It's slow and deliberate. His breath is hot against my skin as his hands trace my body shape. There's no rushing in his movements, and there's no forceful grip to hold me in place. There's not even any cruelty; instead, he takes his time. He explores and learns my body, teasing me in a way that confuses me far more than anything else.
I don't understand him, and that terrifies me far more than his brutality. How can he be so cruel, so merciless one second and then the next, be gentle and almost loving? Not loving, something tells me that men like Xander don't know love and aren't capable of love.