Alpha's Dark Desires-Chapter 150: Slip Up

Elena’s POV:

Okay. This is officially weird.

Ace is acting like some prince charming out of a fairy tale, and I don’t trust it.

Not. One. Bit.

It’s like he’s trying to be what I imagined my mate should have been—sweet, patient, romantic.

But why?

What the hell does he want?

I’ve tried everything to push him away.

I insulted him, called him names that would make even Dean smirk.

I broke things—expensive-looking vases, furniture, even a mirror (which, in hindsight, might be bad luck for me).

I injured his guards—I didn’t even hold back, elbowing one in the ribs so hard he doubled over.

And yet... Ace just laughed.

Like he was amused by my defiance.

Like he was just waiting eagerly to see what I would do next.

It’s like he enjoys watching me fight back.

And that? That makes him even more dangerous.

I don’t know what his deal is, but if he thinks he can charm me into trusting him, he’s in for a rude awakening.

Because I’m not falling for it.

I have a mate.

A mate who chased me down in the woods like a rabid animal, marked me without my consent, and lost himself to some dark, twisted rage.

A mate who, even now, I can’t fully hate because some stupid, primal part of me still aches for him.

But Ace?

Ace is different.

He’s playing a game.

And the worst part?

I don’t know the rules.

I knew I was playing a dangerous game.

I had been testing Ace’s patience for days now, waiting—practically begging—for him to snap. To get angry. To show me what kind of monster he really was.

But nope.

Nothing.

Just his calm, amused smirks.

So, I took things a step further.

Now, here I was, standing in the middle of the room, breathing heavily, with blood trickling down my arm.

Four of Ace’s guards lay scattered around me.

Two of them had knives sticking out of their legs, groaning and cursing under their breath. The other two were rubbing their eyes furiously, probably still feeling the burn from the pepper-like powder I had thrown at them.

And me?

I had a small cut on my upper arm. Barely even stung, but it was enough to make my point.

The door slammed open.

I turned, already smirking, ready to see Ace finally lose his shit—

But the moment I saw him, my smirk died.

His eyes were pure, unfiltered rage.

Not at me.

At them.

The guards stiffened like they already knew what was coming.

"What the fuck is this?" Ace’s voice was low, dangerous.

The silence that followed was deafening.

The guards didn’t even try to defend themselves.

Ace’s glare darkened as he stepped closer, and I watched, surprised, as the two with knives in their legs yanked them out without so much as a wince—like they would rather endure the pain than hear whatever Ace was about to say next.

But then—he turned to me.

And yelled.

"Are you a fucking idiot?!"

I blinked, stunned.

I’d expected him to snap at his men, not at me.

"Why the fuck did you let yourself get hurt?!"

I scoffed. "Excuse me? Did you miss the part where I just took down four of your men?"

Ace didn’t look the least bit impressed.

He grabbed my arm, his grip firm but not painful, and dragged me out of the room.

I struggled, but damn it, the guy was strong.

"Let me go, Ace—"

"Shut up, Elena."

Oh. So now he wasn’t amused?

I was shoved into another room—this one looked like a private study.

The door slammed shut behind us.

I barely had time to react before he was in front of me, inspecting my wound.

I frowned, pulling my arm away. "It’s already healing—"

"I don’t care," he snapped.

For the first time since I met him, Ace wasn’t smirking.

Wasn’t teasing.

He was angry.

And it wasn’t because I attacked his men.

It was because I got hurt.

I stared at Ace like he’d grown a second head.

Because what the fuck?

This wasn’t part of the game. He was supposed to snap, get pissed that I hurt his men, maybe even try to punish me.

Not this.

Not looking at my wound like it personally offended him.

Not acting like he actually gave a damn.

"I’m fine," I said, yanking my arm away again.

Ace clenched his jaw. "You’re bleeding."

I rolled my eyes. "Barely. And it’s already healing. You know, because of the whole werewolf thing?"

He ignored me, grabbing a first-aid kit from the desk like I was some fragile human girl about to bleed out.

"You don’t need to do that," I said, narrowing my eyes.

He didn’t listen.

Instead, he grabbed my wrist—gently this time—and started cleaning the cut.

What. The. Fuck.

I didn’t like this. At all.

It was easier when he was just some psycho rogue king with a revenge plan. But this? This was weird. This was wrong.

"Why do you care?" I finally asked, watching his face carefully.

Ace didn’t look up. "I don’t."

"Bullshit."

His lips twitched slightly, but he still didn’t meet my eyes.

I huffed. "You were supposed to get mad at me, not your men. They were just doing their job."

His hands paused for a fraction of a second.

"They let you get hurt," he muttered. "Which means they failed their job."

I snorted. "Or maybe you’re just overreacting."

He finally looked at me then, his dark eyes piercing through me like he was trying to read my fucking soul.

For the first time, I didn’t see amusement.

Or smugness.

Or arrogance.

I saw something else.

Something that made my stomach twist in a way I didn’t like.

"You’re mine to deal with, Elena," he said softly. "Not theirs."

A shiver ran down my spine, and I absolutely hated how my traitorous body reacted.

I scowled, trying to ignore the way my pulse picked up speed. "I’m not yours, Ace."

He smirked. There it was. The cocky bastard I knew.

"Not yet."

Fuck.

I needed to look anywhere but at him.

Because the way he was looking at me? Yeah, no.

His dark eyes were too intense, too deep, too knowing. Like he was trying to unravel me piece by piece, and I refused to let him.

So, instead, I let my gaze wander around the room.

And that’s when I realized—I had never been here before.

It was different from all the other rooms in this fortress. Softer. Warmer. The walls weren’t the usual dark, intimidating colors. Instead, they were a muted shade of lavender. The bed had an actual comforter—not just stiff sheets like the guest room I’d been locked in.

It was... pleasant.

Maybe even a little girlish.

And then my eyes landed on something that didn’t belong.

A portrait.

A picture sitting on the nightstand.

It was a woman. Beautiful. Long black hair, high cheekbones, deep eyes. But what struck me the most—was how sad she looked.

Like she had lost something.

Like she had given up on something.

She wasn’t smiling.

But if she had, she would’ve been breathtaking.

Before I could say anything, Ace followed my gaze.

And without hesitation, he walked over and flipped the frame over.

Hiding her away.

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

The air between us shifted.

Something heavy. Something unspoken.

And for the first time, I saw something I hadn’t before.

Pain.

Real. Unfiltered. Raw.

The kind that never really goes away.

I didn’t know why, but it made my chest tighten.

But I didn’t say anything.

Because I knew that look.

I had worn it once, too.

I was curious—who was she?

What happened to her?

But I stopped myself from asking.

Because the moment he flipped that frame over, the look on his face told me everything I needed to know.

This was a wound that hadn’t healed.

And whatever happened to her? It wrecked him.

His fingers lingered on the frame for a second longer before he clenched his jaw and turned back to me. The walls were back up—whatever emotion had slipped through was now buried beneath his usual unreadable mask.

"Sit," he ordered, nodding toward the bed.

I hesitated. Not because I was scared—but because I didn’t like this.

I didn’t like that I had seen something real in him. freewēbnoveℓ.com

I didn’t like that for a second, I felt something for him.

But I sat anyway.

He pulled a first aid kit from a drawer, grabbed my arm, and inspected the cut that was already healing. His fingers brushed against my skin, and I stiffened.

"It’s fine," I muttered, trying to pull away.

Ace didn’t let go.

Instead, he pressed his thumb just above the wound, his grip tightening. "This isn’t fine." His voice was calm. Too calm.

"Uh, yeah, it is."

His eyes flicked up to mine. "You’re not human, Elena. Just because you heal fast doesn’t mean it’s okay to be reckless."

I scoffed. "Oh, please, don’t act like you care."

His expression didn’t change. "Who said I don’t?"

That shut me up.

For a second, I didn’t know what to say.

And I hated that.

Because why? Why would he care? Why would he be mad about a stupid cut when he was the one keeping me here against my will?

My frustration flared. "Are you mad that I got hurt? Or mad that I hurt your precious guards?" I snapped, tilting my chin up defiantly.

Ace let out a humorless chuckle. "Oh, I don’t give a damn about them."

His thumb brushed against my skin again, this time softer. Almost gentle.

"I’m mad that you let them touch you."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

His jaw tensed. "That you let them get close enough to do this to you."

I snorted. "Oh, I let them? Trust me, they didn’t touch me willingly. They were too busy trying not to pass out from the knives I put in their legs."

Something flickered in his eyes. A hint of amusement.

But then it was gone.

Ace exhaled sharply and grabbed a bottle of antiseptic, pouring it onto a cotton pad. "This might sting," he warned.

"Gee, thanks for the heads-up, Doctor Ace."

He ignored my sarcasm and dabbed at the wound. It barely burned, but the fact that he was being so damn careful made me restless.

Why was he like this?

Why was he being so patient?

Why wasn’t he acting like the monster I expected him to be?

I clenched my fists. "You’re not what I expected."

Ace didn’t look up. "No?"

I shook my head. "I thought you’d be cruel. Ruthless. Some sadistic rogue who enjoys making people suffer."

He finally met my gaze, a slow smirk tugging at his lips.

"Disappointed?"

I opened my mouth. Paused.

Because honestly?

I wasn’t sure.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from f(r)eeweb(n)ovel.𝒄𝒐𝙢