The Alpha King's Obsession

2. Lost In Translation

Lilian’s POV

I couldn’t get his eyes out of my head.

It was ridiculous. I was 24 years old, broke and exhausted after a 10-hour shift on my feet. I had more pressing matters to worry about, like making rent or finding a second job that didn’t pay peanuts. The golden-eyed stranger who had walked into the Royal an hour ago was the last thing I should be focusing on.

But as I wiped down the counter again, my hand still tingled.

That static shock.

When I’d slid the whiskey glass across the bar to him, our fingers had brushed for a fraction of a second. A jolt, sharp and hot like a live wire, had snapped up my arm and settled heavy in my chest. I had almost dropped the bottle.

He hadn’t flinched. He’d just stared at me with that intense, predatory gaze, sniffing the air as if he were hunting something. And then he’d downed his drink and left without another word, leaving a $100 bill on the counter for a $12 drink.

“Lilian.”

I jumped, spinning around to find Mark, my boss, standing behind me. Mark was a bear of a man, literally huge, with shoulders that spanned the width of the doorway and a shaggy beard that his most of his face. He was kind, but tonight he looked tense.

“Sorry, Mark. Just spacing out.”

“Go home, Lil,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, sounding more like a rumble. He glanced toward the door and his dark eyes narrowed at the shadows stretching across the street. “The city is restless tonight. The moon is almost full. Don’t linger.”

I frowned. Mark was always protective, treating me like a stray kitten he’d found in an alley rather than his employee, but he was acting strange tonight.

“I’m fine, Mark. I’ve walked these streets a thousand times.”

“Just go straight home,” he insisted and crossed his massive arms. “No detours.”

“Aye, aye captain,” I laughed as I grabbed my coat and bag.

I stepped out into the cool night air of Brooklyn, inhaling deeply. The city smelled of exhaust and damp pavement, but underneath it there was something else tonight, something electric. The hair on my arms stood up and for a second I imagined I could smell cedar and smoke, the same scent that had clung to the stranger’s suit.

Stop it, I scolded myself. He was just a rich guy with expensive cologne. Focus.

I needed to concentrate on my bank account. Earlier, I’d been scrolling though job listings on my phone during my break. ‘Nanny wanted…$400/month.’ Nope. ‘Looking for a cleaning lady…$20 per hour.’ God, it was hopeless.

As I contemplated my choices and my future, I decided to walk home to save myself the subway fare. Th night air helped clear my head, and despite Mark’s eerie words, the city felt vibrant.

I rounded a corner near the park and a roar of applause made me stop. A crowd had gathered on the other side of the street, forming a circle.

Curiosity got the better of me and Mark’s warning of ‘no detours’ flew right out the window as I crossed the street to see what was happening.

It was a fire performance. Three men, shirtless and gleaming with sweat, were juggling meter-long sticks set ablaze at both ends. But it wasn’t the juggling that caught my attention. The way the fire moved…it was unnatural. The flames seemed to lick at their skin like lovers rather than something deadly. The fire twisted this way and that and I could’ve sworn I saw it taking the shape of dragons and wolves and birds before vanishing into the night air.

D*mn, I must be more tired than I think.

The men didn’t seem afraid at all. They laughed as they threw the fire between them, catching it with bare hands.

I stood there, transfixed. The heat warmed my cheeks and for a moment, I felt a pang of longing so deep, it actually hurt. I wished I could feel something like that. Not just the adrenaline, but the passion. I wished for a gut-stretching, skin-crawling, heart-pounding-like-a-drum type of love.

Or a life that felt like magic, instead of survival.

I wondered what it must feel like to have a fire like that burning inside of you.

A loud cheer from the crowd snapped me out of my trance and I checked my phone. It was late and Mark would damn near kill me if he knew I was still out.

I pulled my coat tighter around myself and hurried away from the light of the fire, turning down the darker, quieter street that led to my apartment building.

I was digging in my bag, fishing for my keys, my mind occupied with calculating my grocery budget for the week.

Wham.

I walked straight into a wall.

Or rather, something tall and hard that felt like a brick wall wrapped in Italian silk.

The impact knocked the breath out of me. I stumbled back, losing my footing, and landed hard on the pavement, and my bag spilled all of its contents onto the sidewalk.

“Ouch,” I hissed a I rubbed my scraped palm.

“Careful,” a deep voice rumbled from above me and I felt a tingle shoot down my spine.

A second later, I froze. I knew that voice. It was gravelly and husky, and it vibrated right through me to my core.

I looked up and there he was. The stranger from the bar.

He was even more devastatingly handsome up close like this. High cheekbones, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, and those eyes…They were practically glowing gold in the dim light of the street lamps. He was holding a phone to his ear, but the moment our eyes met, he lowered it.

“I’m hanging up,” he said into the device, not breaking eye contact with me. He shoved the phone into his pocket and took a step closer to me.

I scrambled to stand up, my face heating up as I brushed the dirt off my jeans. “I’m so sorry,” I managed to stammer out and stared collecting my things to shove them back into my bag. “I wasn’t looking. I-”

He didn’t move out of my way, didn’t even budge an inch. Instead, he did the last thing I expected. He invaded my personal space, his gaze intense as he scanned me from head to toe. His eyes traveled from my scuffed boots to my jeans with the frayed hem, and finally, my coat.

He frowned, his nostrils doing that same weird thing they did back at the bar. Almost as if he was sniffing the air like an animal.

“You’re freezing,” he stated, his voice tight.

I blinked, taken back by the sudden shift in tone. It sounded almost…angry. “I’m…I’m fine.”

Great. Seems all I can do is stammer now.

“You aren’t fine.” His eyes darkened as he reached out, his hand hovering near my arm as if he wanted touch me but was holding himself back. “That coat is threadbare. It offers no protection.”

I bristled at his words, pulling the coat tighter around me. “It works just fine, thank you.”

He completely ignored me, his gaze dropping to my bag, where a few loose coins had spilled out on the concrete. He looked at the meager change, then back at me, a strange look of frustration crossing his face. It looked like he was in pain.

“You’re struggling.” It wasn’t phrased like a question. No, it was a blunt observation delivered with the arrogance of a king.

My spine stiffened. “Excuse me?”

He took another step closer, looming over me. The air around him felt heavy, charged with that same static electricity is felt earlier at the bar. He seemed like he wanted to wrap me up…or maybe devour me. I couldn’t tell which.

“I can fix this,” he muttered, more to himself than to me and I watched as he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a thick leather wallet.

“What are you doing?” My eyebrows shot up in disbelief and my stomach dropped.

“You need help,” he said so casually as if we were discussing the weather. Then he pulled out a stack of cash that was thicker than my favorite book. His eyes stayed locked on me with an intensity that made my knees weak, but his words…his words shattered whatever spell he had put on me.

“How much do you need?” He kept going, his voice rough, oblivious to the anger rising in me. “Name your price."

I stared at him, unable to process what was happening. “My…price?”

“To get you off the street,” he clarified, gesturing vaguely to the ally behind us. “To come with me. I can take better care of you than…whatever this is. I have a car waiting. Just tell me how much it costs to get you to come with me right now.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

He thought he was being f*****g protective or whatever. He thought he was solving a problem. But all I heard was a rich, f***ing entitled man looking at a poor girl in a worn-out coat and assuming she was for sale. He thought he could buy me just like a bottle of damn whiskey.

“You think…” My voice shook, not with fear, but with white hot rage. “You…you think you can just buy me?”

He blinked, looking confused, as if he didn’t understand why I wasn’t jumping at the offer. “I’m offering to provide for you. You clearly need it.”

“Provide for me?” I let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “I’m not a stray dog, and I am certainly not a prostitute you can just pick up because you flashed some cash.”

“That’s not what I-” He moved a step forward.

“Don’t you dare come closer,” my hands shoot out as if I could ward him off.

He didn’t listen. Of course, he didn’t. He reached for my arm, his eyes almost pleading now. “Just come with me. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

He touched me. The spark was instantaneous, a jolt that should have been pleasant, but in my anger it felt like a violation.

My brain stopped thinking. I didn’t give a damn how handsome he was, or how rich, or how intense his eyes were. He had insulted me in the worst possible way.

Without giving myself a chance to think that maybe this as the brightest idea, I drew my leg up and, with all the force I could muster, I kicked him squarely between the legs.

To my absolute dismay and shock, he didn’t double over. In fact, he barely moved. He just froze, his eyes widening, his mouth opening in a silent gap as if he couldn’t believe I had actually struck him.

I didn’t wait to see if he was hurt. I didn’t wait for him to explain. And, most importantly, I did my best to ignore the spark that ignited between us us at the point of impact.

“Keep your money, a**hole,” I hissed as I stepped around him. “I’m not for sale.”

I stormed down the street toward my apartment building, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. I didn’t even look back, pretending I didn’t hear him growl a word that sounded suspiciously like ‘mine’.