When Alex arrived at Damien's office, there was something different about him. His usual warmth and spark had dimmed, leaving behind a hollow version of the man Damien had once seduced. He stood in the doorway, stiff-backed, his amber eyes unreadable, but Damien could sense the conflict churning beneath the surface.
For a brief moment, doubt crept into Damien's mind. Was this truly what he wanted? To push Alex until there was nothing left of that bright, defiant soul? But then he reminded himself—Alex was a Masterson. The youngest, the most protected, the most cherished. And Damien had decided to break him.
He instructed Alex to undress and bend over the desk, and Alex complied silently. Damien took a moment to ensure that Alex had loosened himself up enough; despite his frustration, he didn't want to inflict excessive pain.
Having never treated Alex roughly before, the decision to do so caused him to hesitate, but he ultimately followed through. He thrust into Alex, feeling him tremble, aware that it likely caused discomfort. As he persisted, Alex's body continued to shake increasingly with each movement.
Damien recalled that Alex enjoyed having his chest stroked and his nipples teased, so he slipped his hand beneath Alex's clothing, drawing him closer. In that moment, Damien found himself unexpectedly aroused and, almost instinctively, he traced his tongue along Alex's nape. The response it elicited from Alex sent Damien's thoughts spiraling.
Alex was a beta. So why was he reacting like this? There were no pheromone glands to make him sensitive to Damien's touch, no natural triggers to explain the way Alex shivered and moaned, spreading himself wider when Damien's tongue brushed his nape. But the way Alex's body responded—so effortlessly, so needily—only drove Damien further into a haze of desire.
Spurred on, he decided to change his original plan.
Damien undressed and laid Alex down on the sofa, his hands pulling Alex's legs apart with urgency. Damien entered him slowly, savoring each inch as if he could lose himself in the sensation of Alex's velvety warmth, each movement a reminder that this was something more—something deeper—than he had ever expected.
At first, he had no intention of biting Alex. His goal was simply to tease him, to coax him into opening up wider as if silently pleading for Damien to take him,to fuck him.
But something seized Damien's senses, placing him in a daze. He found it impossible to tear his gaze away from Alex's nape, and before he was conscious of his actions, he bit down. Instantly, his body froze as he tasted Alex's blood.
What unfolded next was too intense for him to fully comprehend. Alex began thrusting his hips uncontrollably underneath him, sending waves of exhilaration rippling through Damien's mind. It felt as if a primal force had been awakened within Alex, a side of him Damien had never witnessed in their numerous encounters.
Damien could feel his body reacting in ways he hadn't anticipated. A strange pressure built within him as he plunged deep inside Alex, something unfamiliar… something almost animalistic. Was he—was he knotting him? No. That couldn't be right. He wasn't in his rutting period. He hadn't once felt that urge, not even with Alex. Yet, the sensation was undeniable, a slow but insistent rise of something outside his control.
Alex's movements, desperate, urgent, only seemed to push Damien further into the depths of confusion and desire. He couldn't stop himself. He kept biting Alex's nape, unable to pull away, as if his teeth were tethered there, locked in a moment he couldn't escape. The pressure inside him grew, surging with every thrust. The heat was suffocating, and when the climax hit, it was like a tidal wave crashing through his mind.
Alex's insides gripped him so tightly, so perfectly, it was almost too much. Damien gasped, eyes fluttering closed as his body shuddered in pleasure. Suddenly, his pheromones flooded the air as his body was unable to contain or control them. His head spun, and for a moment, he couldn't even remember where he ended and Alex began.
When he finally managed to tear his mouth away from Alex's nape, he collapsed, exhausted, his chest heaving against Alex's back. The air was thick with their shared heat and his pheromones, Alex panting beneath him, his skin radiating warmth.
Damien barely noticed the soft scent at first, but then it hit him, faint but undeniable—a cool, fresh note, like a mountain breeze, fighting its way through Damien's pheromones. His brow furrowed in confusion. He hadn't smelled it before. Was it Alex's body wash? But the thought was quickly drowned out by the reality unfolding before him.
When Damien looked down at the bite on Alex's neck, a sharp twist of panic shot through his gut. What the hell had he done? Why did he have to bite him so hard? His heart raced as guilt clawed at him. What the fuck was wrong with him? His hand instinctively reached up to touch the mark, his fingers trembling, but he quickly pulled away.
Whatever, he thought, trying to ignore those conflicting feelings inside him. In the end, that ugly bite would also serve a purpose, and the purpose would be to enrage and hurt Alex's father even more. So he did his best to act like it didn't matter.
Damien was still inside Alex, but as he tried to pull away, his body seemed to resist, urging him to keep going. The need to continue was overpowering, his thrusts growing more erratic, fucking Alex faster and harder. Alex's moans filled the room and as he came again, Alex followed, his body tightening around Damien again.
Damien realized that if he didn't force himself to pull out, he might lose himself completely and end up fucking Alex unconscious, or worse…causing some irreparable damage. Summoning all the willpower he had left, Damien finally broke their connection, pulling back with a shudder, the aftershocks of ecstasy still rattling through him.
He felt confused and a bit disoriented as if he had just woken up from a dream. It took him a few moments to root himself back into reality. His eyes wandered towards Alex who laid still on the sofa.
Despite the rush of pleasure still lingering in his body, the sight of Alex in such a state twisted something in Damien's gut. A bitter taste clung to his mouth as he looked at him—Alex, disheveled, with cum trickling down his trembling legs and the ugly, bleeding mark on his nape. For a brief moment, Damien wanted to ask if he was okay, wanted to know if anything hurt, if the rawness of their encounter had caused him too much pain. But the urge to show concern was quickly stifled.
Instead, he focused on his original plan, forcing out cold and derisive words, meant to further wound and humiliate Alex.
He couldn't bring himself to acknowledge the vulnerability in Alex's eyes as he followed his commands. Every part of him screamed to say something, to stop this, but he remained silent, watching as Alex left, his shame and pain clearly written all over him.
When Alex told him that if revenge was his goal, it had been achieved, and that he would regret his choices, Damien felt a pang in his chest He had built his entire justification around the idea that the Mastersons deserved to suffer, that everyone involved was just a pawn in his grand scheme of vengeance. But as Alex walked away, Damien couldn't help but feel bothered about letting him leave in that state. He was already following Alex before he even realized what he was doing.
Damien told himself that in order to further humiliate Alex, he first had to ensure him getting home safely. He kept his distance, shadowing Alex without him noticing, the gap between them just wide enough to avoid detection. He expected Alex to call a cab once he'd gotten far enough from the office building, but to his surprise, Alex didn't. He kept moving forward, his steps unsteady, thinly dressed and vulnerable against the harsh night breeze. Thankfully, Alex managed to reach his home without any mishaps.
Damien let out a sigh of relief when he saw Alex finally walk inside. He couldn't help but imagine the chaos that would unfold when Alex's family saw him in such a state. Richard would likely storm into his office the next day, grabbing him by the collar, demanding that Damien be punished for hurting his precious son.
But the next day came, and nothing happened.
No one came to his office. No one from the Masterson family contacted him in any way. His friend, the owner of Magnolia, did send him a message saying Alex had quit the restaurant. Well, it wasn't that strange. His parents were probably against him exerting himself like that. As the young master of such a rich family, they couldn't allow him to lower himself by serving others. So, Damien didn't give it too much thought.
After a day and a half, Damien decided to call Alex but the call didn't go through. The number was out of reach. Was Alex ignoring him again? Hadn't he learned his lesson? Damien tried again, dialing the number over and over, but the result was always the same.
Since Alex wasn't going to come to him, Damien decided he would go to Alex. He contacted Richard Masterson, requesting to have lunch at the Masterson villa. His reasoning was simple—he wanted to become better acquainted with the place, which, in a way, had practically become his. Of course, Richard wasn't thrilled by the idea, but he reluctantly extended an invitation.
When Damien arrived at the Masterson villa, he was met with the usual mask of pleasantries. The family greeted him in their finest attire, all smiles and polite gestures. Yet, Damien could sense it immediately—Alex hadn't told them anything. That was both surprising and confusing. How could Alex, that pampered boy, manage to hide such a humiliating encounter from his family? It didn't make sense.
They sat down at the table, but Alex was nowhere to be seen. Damien immediately demanded they call for him. Richard tried to brush it off, explaining that Alex had a habit of sleeping late into the afternoon, but Damien wasn't having it.
"Call him," he repeated, his voice edged with impatience
Twenty minutes passed before Alex finally walked into the room. He was wearing a dark blue turtleneck sweater and some jeans, but what caught Damien off guard was the way Alex looked. He was practically unrecognizable. His skin was deathly pale, drained of all color, and his once healthy features had become sharp, hollowed out. He looked like he hadn't slept or eaten properly for days. Damien had seen him just three days ago—how could someone deteriorate so quickly in that short amount of time?.
But the most jarring part wasn't Alex's appearance—it was the complete lack of reaction from his family.
How could they sit there, staring at their son and brother with such cold indifference when it was so obvious that something was wrong? They acted as though they couldn't even see the signs. Alex's mother, without missing a beat, turned to him with a disapproving look and commented on his attire, suggesting he should have worn something more formal, more elegant, more fitting for such an important lunch. Not once did she acknowledge how terrible he looked, how frail and sickly he seemed.
Damien's mind spun in confusion and disbelief. Was Alex in this state because of what had happened that night? Could the bite of an alpha really affect a beta like this? The idea seemed absurd—after all, an alpha's bite was nothing more than a flesh wound to a beta, a mark that would heal without much consequence. But then why did Alex look like he was on the brink of collapse? And why was his family acting as though they didn't even notice? Worse, why did it seem like they didn't care?
The more Damien thought about it, the more something didn't add up. The pieces of the puzzle refused to fit, and an unsettling feeling gnawed at him. Something dark was lurking beneath the surface, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.