4. Alpha Prince
1644 Words
Keya's POV
"Hello there, Little Rabbit. Fancy meeting you here out of all the places." His voice was deep, smooth, and dipped in amusement, like he was thoroughly enjoying the situation. "You look very drunk."
So, he did remember me.
Alpha Rhys Thorne, one of the future kings to the Throne of Western Peaks. One of the Alphas of Shadowhill pack.
The storm in his blue eyes looked like it could swallow cities, and his jawline alone could’ve started wars.
Fuck.
He was still as gorgeous as he was that day I kissed him shamelessly. No, even more gorgeous now.
He has always been my personal shame.
He had grown into every inch of the boy I used to follow around the training fields—now towering, broad-shouldered, with dark tousled hair and a mouth made for trouble. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the barest hint of smooth, golden skin and a tattoo inked along his collarbone—ancient, royal, lethal.
And those eyes... sharp, wolfish, still full of brooding intensity, made my heart hitch. Made me forget everything else.
“Rhys,” I breathed, swaying a little as he steadied me, a hand on my back. That small touch sent tingles through my already burning skin.
His grin widened, slow and utterly sinful. Making me think of unholy, godless things. Like... his mouth on every inch of my skin. His fingers branding me, taking me... His eyes...
"Stop," my wolf warned. Her voice was soft. She was right. It was too much too soon, but my body had no sense of time or place. My body wanted what it wanted, everything else be damned.
“Goddess, Little Rabbit. You… you grew up.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden weight behind his words. “Of course, I grew up. What did you expect?” My voice came out sharper than I intended. The old wound of his rejection was still too raw.
His lips tugged down for a fraction of a second before he gave me a steady, unreadable look.
“Of course. What did I expect?” he murmured, voice soft, eyes enigmatic.
His thumb brushed my arm lightly, a feather-light touch that made my skin buzz.
“You’re not the girl who kissed me that day and...” he trailed off, his eyes unnaturally blue.
“No,” I said, chin tilting. “I'm not."
He chuckled, low and soft, and the sound curled down my spine, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
“So, this time will you stay after kissing me? And not run away?" he said, voice teasingly low, stepping just a little closer.
What the f**k was he talking about?
“But these days, I love a good chase, Little Rabbit," he said, his voice full of innuendo. He didn't look at me like he was going to pull away if I kissed him this time. Oh no, he looked like he was ready to burn my world down.
What the hell changed?
Did I change too much? Or did he?
I squinted up at him with a frown, planting my feet like I wasn’t trembling inside. “I’m not little anymore, Prince of Ass.”
He barked out a laugh, rich and amused, the kind that made my stomach flip in the most inconvenient way.
“Still sharp as ever,” he said, leaning in just slightly, just enough for me to catch the scent of him. Dark spice and heat. Trouble.
His lips curved into something far too dangerous to be legal, a slow smirk that promised sin and salvation. He knew what it was doing to me.
His eyes roamed down, lingering at my lips, then lower—dragging over my neck, and dipping into the scandalous plunge of my neckline. My dress had been a power move, bold and reckless, but right now it felt like an open invitation. His gaze was molten as it traced every exposed inch of my flesh.
His breath ghosted across my cheek, warm and teasing, and when he spoke, it was barely more than a growl.
“No,” he murmured. “You’re not. I can definitely see that.”
The air shifted between us. And f**k, I wanted to close the distance between us and make another mistake with him.
Make millions more. I was so f*****g tempted.
But no. My wolf was right. I didn't need another heartbreak now, and Rhys Thorne was heartbreak wrapped in hotness.
I placed a hand on his chest, firm and deliberate, pushing against the solid wall of muscle and heat.
He didn’t budge.
Of course, he didn’t.
His heart was steady beneath my palm, steady like his eyes as they locked onto mine. He was looking at me like he wanted to finish what I had started four years ago. Like he remembered every second of that kiss, just like I did. Only this time, he wasn’t backing away.
Why wasn't he backing away? What did he want?
“You keep looking at me like that,” I said, arching a brow, “and I’ll start thinking you missed me.”
His gaze turned dangerously heated. “Who says I didn’t?”
“Please,” I scoffed, though my voice was a little too breathless to be convincing. "Rich coming from a guy who ghosted me after one kiss," I said with a snarl. One kiss. He could have just... did anything, but he left the next day, and never said a word, never called. "You could have just said no and not run like a coward."
A kiss didn't change everything else. If he had stayed, it wouldn't have stung so much. I wasn't a fool to think my feelings MUST be reciprocated, but he left me.
"I didn't ghost you, Little Rabbit. I was trying to survive."
I arched a brow, crossing my arms in what I hoped looked like defiance and not like I was holding myself together by a thread. “Survive what? My fu.cking kiss? Was it that bad that you felt like dying?" I said with a frown.
"No, it was too good I felt like I would explode if I stood there any longer." He laughed, bitter but soft, the kind of sound that used to make my knees weak—and damn it, maybe it still did. “Little Rabbit, that kiss ruined me.”
I scoffed, arms tightening over my chest, more defensive than I wanted to admit.
“Funny. You didn’t look very ruined when you disappeared the next morning.”
His smile faltered. “That’s because I left before it got worse. You were... Ryker's little sister, and I couldn't get addicted to you. I...” He gulped, like he was not saying something. "I had my own s**t to deal with, and you were... a distraction."
I blinked, thrown off for half a heartbeat. “Addicted?”
He stepped closer, and I felt the shift in the air again, electric and crackling with tension.
“You think I walked away because I didn’t want you?” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “I walked away because I did. Because I wanted to ruin you just as badly as you wrecked me. I wanted to show you how badly I needed you, how wrong it was to need you.” His eyes burned. "But you weren't ready for that. Ready for me. You were too innocent."
He said it like the plans he had for me was far too wicked for someone innocent like me.
I gulped.
Something sharp twisted in my chest. My throat tightened, but I held his gaze.
“That’s your excuse? You wanted me so much you left?”
“I wanted you too much to stay.” His eyes burned into mine, serious now, steady. "Like I said, you were too innocent, Little Rabbit, and I was not."
His gaze went to my mouth again, like he was remembering that kiss, every breath of it.
I felt my resolve slipping, my breath catching in my throat. My heart thundered.
"That's a lie."
He leaned in again, slow and unhurried, his mouth a breath from mine. “If I were lying, I wouldn’t remember exactly how you tasted that night, or how your fingers held on tighter. Or how you made that little sound in the back of your throat when you felt my arousal—”
I slapped a hand over his mouth, heat flaring in my cheeks. “Okay. Wow. Someone’s really proud of himself.”
His eyes sparkled, and then he licked a slow, obnoxious swipe across my palm.
I yanked my hand back. “Rhys!”
“What?” he said, all fake innocence and infuriating charm. “You’re the one who touched me. I thought we were sharing memories.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he said, tilting his head, eyes dipping to my lips again, “you’re still standing here. Still looking at me like you want to either slap me or drag me into the nearest dark corner and go to your knees for me.”
I sucked in a breath, my throat dry.
“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” I muttered.
“I’m more than pretty,” he said, shameless. “I’m unforgettable.”
I rolled my eyes so hard it nearly gave me a headache. “Gods, it’s a miracle you fit through doors with that head.”
He grinned, wicked and warm. “You know what else is a miracle?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
His eyes dipped to his pants, and my throat went dry. Oh, fu.ck, he was big. He wasn't lying. That really was a miracle, and I wanted that miracle buried deep inside...
No, no, s**t. No.
(-)
- Writer
