Alpha Asher
Chapter 42

Alpha Asher's P.o.v

Infuriating; the first word I thought of when Lola popped into mind.

Addicting; the second word that described the little ball of fire that constantly tormented me.

She had disobeyed me from the very beginning. Such a simple task I had given her.

Arrive to training-on time.

She came late, making quite an entrance.

I was beginning to realize the many qualities of Lola, the faults that made her even more intoxicating.

The way her lower lip would jut out in a pout-without her realizing she had done so. Her bright eyes innocent, a hint of mischievousness twirling in their depths. Her penchant for being late-punctuality did not come easy for Lola. These qualities angered me to no end; but also served to draw us closer.

She enjoyed pissing me off, that was obvious. I enjoyed exerting my dominance over her, making her see I was the one in control.

It was clear she hated this, and yet a part of her wanted me to have control. She wanted to be powerless under someone else, their body writhing against her own flushed with sweat and arousal.

I could smell her arousal in her small bedroom, swirling around the two of us. She enjoyed my dominance, enjoyed the force behind my touch. After that moment, I knew she was made for me. Being an Alpha has it's perks, and it's downfalls.

Respect, authority, obedience. These were helpful in my work-life, not so much my love life.

Women did not pique my interest. They bowed as they met me, showered me with adoration and respect. They never pressed boundaries, never wanted to anger or upset me. It was the constant walking on eggshells that pissed me off. They feared me; rightfully so but I had never killed members of my own pack. I killed traitors, rogues, and murderers.

Women pursued me, but were all too dainty and complacent. They needed my strength to carry them, needed me to make decision for them. They never spoke out, never did as they pleased.

I wanted a mate; not a s*x-slave.

Lola was a fire in the middle of the antarctic. Beautiful, wild, and somewhat out of control. She burned as she pleased, heeding the advice of none.

Her Grandmother had been the first to tell me what happened that night. The truth of her heritage had stunned me into silence-something that never happened before.

While this fact was disturbing and unsettling, I knew where Lola's loyalty lied. She might've been disobedient, but she was fiercely loyal to those she cared about.

Half-blooded, many werewolves were half-bloods. None however were half-vampire. Even as an Alpha, not much was known about Vampires.

I wouldn't let this fact affect my pack. I more so wondered how this would affect her, how she would handle it.

"She's strong." My wolf murmured, "If anyone can handle this, she can."

What sent fury rushing through my veins like acid, was the scarlett mark bright on her neck.

I had never seen such a mark before. For just a split second, I hoped it was a tattoo. Something about it glinted cruelly, as if telling the world she now belonged to one of them. I wanted-I needed to know more, to know how to remove the hideous mark from her creamy skin.

Tristan

The name left her l!ps effortlessly, mixed with a tone of confusion. Her voice w as soft, much too soft to be speaking of another man.

Alpha's were inherently possessive, a trait I embraced in her presence.

My control slipped that night, but I had done nothing to mend it. I sent her over the edge countless times that night, each time watching the pain and bliss on her face.

I marked her ch3st with my lips and teeth, feeling the need to overpower the hideous mark on her shoulder.

I was a determined man. By the end of the night, her body would respond only to my touch. It would remember the pleasure I had brought.

I had used everything at my disposal to send her tumbling into bliss, everything but what she wanted. Org**sm after org**m she pleaded for the one thing I wouldn't give her. She wanted me entirely, but bad girls often never got what they wanted. She had forgotten who she belonged to. I didn't need a mark to claim her, her body responded to me in a way that couldn't be replicated.

Her back arched as wave after wave of pleasure hit her, and I made sure to watch her face each time.

She fed on the pain mixed with bliss; fed on the feel of her sensitive core under my touch. Not once did she beg me to stop. Through all of the whimpers, the pleads, she had never once uttered the word 'stop'.

Well into the morning, I let her fall asleep. Leaving her in her own bed crossed my mind, but I couldn't force myself to move. Instead, I pulled the covers over her clad body.

The creamy skin of her back