The Alpha King's Fated Mate

"I want you to f**k me, Lucian. f**k me like one of your girls." When Lucian Draven, Alpha of the Nightshade Pack, heard a soft knock on his door, he had opened it without instructing one of his maids to do so because he assumed that it was the package he was expecting but when he set the glass down and strode to the door, pulling it open with a swift motion. What he saw made him freeze. Isla Quinn stood there, her slim frame drenched from head to toe from the heavy rain pouring outside. Her dark hair clung to her face and shoulders, her clothes soaked through, sticking to her body as if she had been walking through the storm for hours. But it wasn’t just the rain that caught his attention, it was the look in her eyes. Red-rimmed, swollen from crying, filled with a pain he had never seen before. “Isla,” Lucian breathed, his voice low, concern flooding him as he reached out instinctively, his hand hovering in the air between them. “What the hell happened?” She didn’t answer immediately, her lips parting as if to speak but no sound coming out. Her body shivered from the cold, and yet her expression was strangely resolute. She swallowed hard, her eyes searching his as if trying to find her words again. “I want you to f**k me like one of your women tonight,” Isla said, her voice soft but edged with desperation. Lucian’s brow furrowed, confusion flashing across his features. Of all the things he had expected her to say, this wasn’t one of them. His hand dropped back to his side as he blinked at her, trying to process the request. Isla, his best friend, was asking him this? “What are you talking about?” he asked, stepping aside and gesturing for her to come in. “You’re soaked. Come inside.” Isla hesitated for a moment, as if unsure whether to cross the threshold. But then, as another cold gust of wind blew rain into her face, she stepped forward, brushing past him into the warmth of his penthouse. Lucian shut the door behind her, his mind racing. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. As soon as she was inside, he noticed the subtle tremble in her hands, the way her fingers fidgeted as though she were holding onto something invisible just to keep from falling apart. And then he saw it, a faint red mark on her cheek, almost hidden beneath the sheen of rainwater on her skin. His eyes darkened. “Isla...” Lucian’s voice softened as he stepped toward her, his heart pounding with a mix of anger and protectiveness. “What happened to you? Who did this?” He wanted to touch her, to pull her into his arms and protect her from whatever had hurt her, but something in the way she looked at him stopped him. Isla was always strong, fiercely independent, the kind of woman who never let anyone see her vulnerabilities. But now, standing in front of him, soaked and shaken, she looked so fragile, so unlike the Isla he knew. One of the maids, sensing the commotion, appeared at the end of the hall. Lucian gestured toward her quickly. “Get her a blanket and a hot drink, coffee or tea, whichever she prefers.” The maid nodded and disappeared, leaving them alone again in the dimly lit entryway. But Isla wasn’t paying attention to the maid or the promise of warmth. Her eyes were locked on Lucian, filled with something raw and painful. She took a step closer to him, her voice wavering with emotion. “Lucian,” she whispered, her lips trembling, “take me to your room.” Lucian’s chest tightened, and he shook his head slowly, reaching out as if to steady her. “Isla, stop. Tell me what’s going on. Who did this to you?” She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears, and for a moment, he thought she might break down right there in front of him. But instead, she pressed forward, her voice rising in desperation. “Do you hate me that much?” she asked, her tone cutting like a knife. “Am I so disgusting to you that you won’t even touch me?” The question hit him like a punch to the gut. Lucian recoiled slightly, not because of what she said, but because of the pain he could hear laced beneath her words. His eyes flickered to the red mark on her face again, and rage boiled up inside him. “What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “Who did this to you, Isla? Tell me right now, and I’ll tear them apart.” Isla let out a small, bitter laugh, the sound catching in her throat. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I caught him, Lucian. I caught him with her.” Her hands reached up to her face, wiping away the tears as if they annoyed her as if she hated the weakness they showed. “This is what I get for walking in on them sleeping together.” Lucian’s blood ran cold. He didn’t need to ask who she meant. Her so-called boyfriend, the man who had clearly hurt her in more ways than one. The thought of it made his wolf stir violently within him, demanding blood, demanding justice. “Isla,” Lucian growled, his fists clenching at his sides. “Tell me where he is. Now.” But Isla shook her head, stepping forward again, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she stared up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Don’t,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Don’t go after him. Please. Just... kiss me. Help me forget.” Her words hung in the air, and Lucian felt his heart twist painfully in his chest. He could see the desperation in her eyes, the need for comfort, for something, anything, that would make the pain go away. But this wasn’t the way. This wasn’t what she needed. “No,” Lucian said, his voice firm but gentle as he cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing lightly over the red mark. “Isla, you’ll hate me for this in the morning. You don’t want this. You are not thinking straight.” “Yes, I do,” she insisted, her hands gripping his shirt tighter as she leaned into him, her lips dangerously close to his. “I need this, Lucian. I need you.” His breath caught in his throat. He had never seen her like this before, so vulnerable, so broken. He wanted to fix it, to take all of her pain away, but not like this. He couldn’t do this to her. “You don’t need me,” he said quietly, his voice strained. “You need to rest.” But Isla shook her head again, more tears spilling down her cheeks. “I don’t want to think about him anymore. I don’t want to think at all. Please, Lucian. Just... help me forget.”