Fated to the Triplet Alphas-Chapter 50: Self-Relief

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Chapter 50

~Xade’s POV~

Troy’s father’s broken pleas still rang in my ears long after we left their mansion. The man had dropped to his knees, begging us to spare his son one more time, even as Troy lay there bleeding.

Though we didn’t kill him or accomplish what we wanted to, seeing Nicholas deal with his son was little compensation as compared to what Jade suffered.

That alone was enough warning. The humiliation we left him with would hurt worse than any blade.

Still, even though it should have been enough, rage still burned under my ribs, refusing to fade.

That and the words my father had mentioned concerning the king knowing we were his daughter’s mate did not sit well in my stomach.

My brothers had gone straight home—Xander driving with that iron grip on the wheel, Xavier staring out the window like he could will the curse away through sheer stubbornness.

I couldn’t follow them yet. The house would feel too small tonight, too full of everything we weren’t saying.

So I highlighted at an intersection and took a cab to a bar alone. In the past, whenever our heat soared, I usually sought relief through whatever means I could find.

Sometimes it was through one of the numerous girls throwing themselves my way. I’d indulge them, sleep with a one or two, or simply just wolf out in the forest.

Vermillion Bar appeared on the right like it had been waiting for me. The cab pulled into the lot without hesitation, killed the engine, and I stepped out.

Bass thumped through the walls before I even reached the door. Inside, the place was active—bodies moving under colored lights, laughter cutting through cigarette smoke and spilt liquor.

I made my way towards the bar and sat down while I placed my order. I didn’t sit at the bar long before one of the numerous wildfires found me first.

Tall, dark hair pulled into a high ponytail, black dress short enough that bending over would be a public service announcement. She slid onto the stool beside mine, perfume hitting me before her voice did—something expensive and sharp.

"You look like you could use company." She curved her lips and winked, flashing me one of her obvious killer smiles, but I wasn’t in the mood for flirting.

I gave her half a smile, the one that usually ended conversations or started better ones. "Depends on the company."

She laughed low. "I’m very good company."

Her hand landed on my thigh uninvitedly under the bar. Old instinct kicked in. I caught her wrist—not hard, just enough to hold—and leaned in close enough that my breath brushed her ear.

"Careful," I murmured. "I don’t play gentle."

Her pupils dilated. "Good. I don’t like gentle."

I gave her a once-over, letting my gaze drag slowly from her heels back to her eyes. "You always touch strangers like that?"

"Only the ones who look like trouble."

"You don’t know the half of it."

She shifted closer, knee brushing mine. "Then educate me."

My thumb traced the inside of her wrist before I released it. "You might regret asking."

"I doubt it."

"Everyone says that at first."

Her lips curved. "You sound experienced."

"I am."

She leaned forward, fingers ghosting over my collar, tugging me closer. "Then stop talking and show me."

I chuckled softly, tilting my head as if considering her offer, then finished my drink in one swallow.

"VIP room," I said, already standing.

We didn’t waste time on small talk after that. She followed me to the VIP corridor without a word.

The bouncer nodded once and stepped aside. The private room was not too small, dark, and soundproofed. Red leather couch, a low table, dim amber lighting that made everything look warmer than it felt.

The door locked behind us with a soft click.

She turned, already reaching for the straps of her dress.

But I wasn’t here for gentle. I moved faster. I spun her around, pressed her front to the wall, and brought my palm down hard across the curve of her ass.

The sound cracked through the room. She gasped, then moaned, arching back into me like she’d been waiting for exactly that.

"Again," she breathed.

I obliged. Twice more, harder each time, until her skin bloomed pink under my hand and her thighs trembled. She pushed back against me, grinding, searching for friction.

I gripped her hips, yanked her dress up around her waist, and palmed her through her lace panties that was already soaked. She whimpered when my fingers pressed against her clit through the fabric in firm circles, no teasing.

"Fuck," she hissed. "Just—"

I cut her off with another sharp smack, then slid the lace aside and pushed two fingers inside her without warning.

She cried out, walls clenching tight around me. I worked her fast, rough, curling just right until her knees buckled and she braced both hands on the wall.

I watched her come apart under my hand, chasing the control I usually thrived on. This was familiar territory, easy, mindless and exactly what I came here for.

So, I forced myself to focus on the sounds she made, on the heat of her body pressing back against mine, on the way her hips moved desperately for more.

This should have worked like before.

It should have been perfect. It should have brought some sort of dominance and relief, but it didn’t. Just irritation crawling beneath my skin.

Her scent filled my lungs again—and something inside me recoiled—it was wrong and not like Jade’s. I told myself to enjoy it, told my wolf it didn’t matter, it was just to relieve stress, but Ares remained silent, and I couldn’t bring myself to admit my tactic was failing.

Jade’s face flashed behind my eyes—flushed cheeks, parted lips, the way she’d looked at me in her house when I had come in through her window and kissed her.

My hand stilled. The woman whimpered in protest. "Don’t stop—"

I pulled my fingers free and stepped back so fast she almost fell. "What the hell?" she snapped, turning.

She attempted to walk towards me, but I lifted my hand before dragging both hands through my hair, breathing hard. Nausea rolled through me when I inhaled her scent.

"I can’t."

She stared at me like I’d lost my mind. "You’re kidding. I’m in the mood and judging by the obvious tent in your trousers, you want this too."

I didn’t answer. I just grabbed my jacket from the couch and walked out.

The hallway blurred. The music pounded in my skull. I shoved through the crowd, ignoring every hand that reached for me, every smile thrown my way.

I took a cab and hurried back home, back to the place that had a strong trace of Jade’s scent.

The moment I stepped inside the mansion, silence wrapped around me. My brothers were upstairs. I could feel them through the bond. Each of them were restless, awake, coiled tight. I didn’t bother going to them.

I went straight to my room and locked the door shut.

My clothes came off in angry jerks. Shirt torn over my head, jeans kicked away, boxers shoved down till I was completely naked.

By now, my skin was too hot. I paced once, twice, then stopped in front of the full-length mirro,r looking at my reflection.

My reflection looked feral. Eyes too bright, jaw locked, and cock already hard and aching, jutting upward like it had a mind of its own.

I wrapped my hand around the base and squeezed once—hard—trying to force the edge off.

It only made it worse.

Instead of finding that release, my mind drifted to Jade and the relentless wet dreams I had been having recently. The memories crashed in without permission.

Jade was on her back beneath me in the training room, thighs spread, breath hitching when I kissed down her throat.

Jade’s fingers were in my hair, tugging when my tongue flicked over her nipple. Her hips rocking up, chasing my mouth when I finally licked between her folds—slow at first, then faster, hungrier, until she was shaking and whispering my name like a prayer.

I groaned low in my throat and stumbled toward the bathroom.

Whatever I was doing wasn’t working. My mind and body wanted her. And the only thing I knew that could help quench that was a cold shower.

I turned on the shower, and as soon as it touched my skin, the water hit like needles. I braced both hands on the tile and let it pound over my shoulders, my back, my ass. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

Nothing changed.

My cock throbbed harder, precum beading at the tip. Every drop of water sliding down my skin felt like her fingers. Every breath I took carried the ghost of her scent.

"You need our mate. Go to her and take her," Ares urged me.

I slammed the faucet off and ignored my towel, dripping wet, and crossed back to my bedroom.

I stopped in front of my bedside drawer. The lock panel glowed faintly when I pressed my thumb to it.

I knelt on one knee to input the four-digit code—my birth year reversed—and the drawer slid open silently.

Inside were silicone, glass, and metal sex toys. I didn’t look at the rest. I grabbed the bottle of lube, shut the drawer hard enough to rattle the lamp, and dropped onto the bed on my back.

The sheets were cool against overheated skin.

I slicked my palm generously, wrapped my hand around the base of my cock, and closed my eyes, focused on nothing but my arousal.