Alpha's Dark Desires-Chapter 207: Ruthless Take Over

Damon

I tasted her.

And now I want her.

Not just her body—not just the way she melted against me like she’d been waiting for it her whole life. I want all of her. Her loyalty. Her submission. Her soul.

But not if she gives it to someone else.

Not if she thinks I’m him.

That name. That damn name she moaned in the middle of kissing me. Kane.

I nearly lost control. Almost forgot who I was when I had her pinned against that wall, dress bunched around her thighs, breath trembling against my mouth. For one dangerous moment, I believed she saw me. Damon. The whole monster she keeps pretending doesn’t exist.

But no.

She thought it was him. That soft, broken, pathetic part of me I tore apart to become what I am now.

Kane.

Stupid. Weak.

She moaned his name.

I don’t even remember leaving the house. I don’t remember the door. Or the halls. I remember rage. Thick and black and boiling in my veins like acid. My feet moved fast, and I let them. Let the storm inside me carry me as far away from her as I could get.

I’m miles from the estate now. Deep in the forest. My body humming with leftover heat from her skin and the violent need to forget.

She doesn’t want me.

She wants a ghost. A shadow of who I used to be. The part I killed to become this.

So fine.

Let her want Kane. Let her mourn him. Let her rot in that illusion while I build something that matters.

I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving. Not a soul. Not my guards. Not the council. Not even her. Because if they knew, they’d plot. Use my absence to spark rebellion. They’ve been waiting for a crack.

But I won’t give them one.

I don’t need rest. I don’t need to carry anything. I can survive on blood. Thrive on it.

My vampire instincts keep me sharp. My wolf can hunt for himself. The two halves of me—the ones I finally fused—don’t argue anymore. They crave the same thing now.

Destruction.

Power.

Chaos.

The vampire kingdom is too quiet. Too content. Their royalty sits on silken thrones, bloated with comfort and arrogance, thinking their ancient bloodlines make them untouchable.

Let’s see how untouchable they feel when the bodies start piling up.

I’ll start small. Silent. One royal at a time. No traces. No patterns. No scent. I’ll tear them apart and leave clues pointing to their own kind.

Make it look like an inside job.

Let the paranoia spread like infection. Let them doubt each other. Turn on each other. I’ll be the whisper in the dark, the shadow at the edge of the room. I’ll watch them burn their own court down before I ever step into the light.

And when there’s only one of them left—bleeding, broken, desperate—I’ll walk into the ashes and take the throne they thought was safe.

I’ll carve my name into the stone with their blood.

Damon.

Not Kane. Not Dean. Not some tragic half of a broken beast. Me.

The hybrid.

The Alpha King.

The beginning of the end.

And Elena?

She can keep chasing ghosts. Keep dreaming that Kane’s coming back.

But when she wakes up—when she finally sees me for who I am—I want her to remember exactly what it felt like to scream my name with her legs wrapped around me and realize...

That was never Kane.

It was always me.

The vampire kingdom lies ahead—tucked beneath ancient stone and hollowed catacombs, wrapped in illusion spells and arrogance. They think their wards can keep monsters out.

They’ve never met me.

The guards at the outer gates never saw me coming. One blink, and their heads were separated from their bodies. I didn’t waste time draining them. I didn’t need to. Their blood wasn’t worthy.

I stepped over the corpses like cracked branches. My boots didn’t even scuff.

Every inch deeper into their sanctuary, the air thickened with pride and tradition. Velvet-lined halls, carved archways dripping with chandeliers. Gold. Crystal. Decadence.

I prefer stone and blood.

There were five royals in this bloodline. Five pureblood nobles who traced their lineage back to the original turning. Untouchable. Ancient. Revered.

I took my time with them.

The first one—Lord Marcen—was asleep when I slit his throat and peeled the skin from his jaw. I left him in his bed, posed like he was praying, his tongue nailed to the headboard with a silver fork.

The second, Lady Virelle, was bathing. Warm water. Rose petals. Soft music playing. I dragged her under, let her lungs fill with the same water she soaked in like a spoiled doll. Her nails scratched at my arms, but I didn’t flinch. When the life drained from her eyes, I kissed her forehead and whispered, "You should’ve screamed louder."

I made sure the blood pooled out of the tub and spelled a different royal’s name on the floor. After of course yanking out their hearts, we don’t want them coming back to life after all that why vampires were called the undead.

Paranoia. That’s the game.

The third one tried to run. A young lord, barely a century old. He thought his speed could save him. I hunted him through the halls like a wolf in a henhouse. He slipped. I tore his Achilles tendon out with my teeth. Dragged him back screaming. His death was slow—deliberate.

I let him see me.

"You’re not a wolf," he whimpered, blood foaming from his lips.

"No," I smiled. "I’m worse."

I painted the walls with his blood. Left his heart tucked neatly into a wine goblet and propped it on the royal dining table.

The last two were lovers—siblings, but that never mattered to old blood. They shared a chamber, a bond, a belief that no one could ever breach the sanctity of their bloodline.

I let them watch each other die.

I pinned the sister to the wall with iron stakes. She screamed his name. He ran to her like some tragic knight—and I ripped his spine out through his chest before he got halfway.

The sister spat at me. Told me I’d burn. Told me the ancestors would curse me.

I smiled and carved a spiral into her stomach with my claws, deep enough to show bone. "Let them try," I growled.

Then I crushed her skull against the wall until it split like an overripe fruit.

Silence followed.

Heavy. Sacred.

The vampire kingdom was without its royal bloodline for the first time in nearly eight hundred years.

I stood in the carnage—soaked, grinning, unbothered. I didn’t leave a single footprint. Not a speck of scent. I wiped the silver from my fingers and walked back into the shadows.

Let the servants scream when they wake. Let the lesser houses point fingers and draw swords.

Let the blood war begin.

All while I watch.

No one saw me.

No one even knows I was here.

But they’ll feel me.

In every scream. Every suspicion. Every corpse.

They’ll feel the shadow of something ancient and wrong moving through their kingdom.

And when the dust settles, and they’re down on their knees begging for peace—

I’ll be the only one left to answer.

Damon.

The predator.

The King.

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