Ruin Me, Alpha-Chapter 19: Deranged Devotion

I slipped out of the penthouse just before dawn, shoes in my hand so my heels wouldn’t click on the marble. Devon was still sprawled across the couch, one arm flung over the spot I’d vacated, chest rising slow and deep. I told myself I wasn’t running. I was surviving.

Two days later the entire pack was crammed into the great hall for the unification banquet. Crystal chandeliers, silver trays, wolves in suits pretending we weren’t one wrong word away from tearing each other apart.

Devon had ordered me to "assist." Translation: stand in the corner looking useful while he paraded his perfect future Luna.

I wore the dress he’d sent: black leather, backless, hem barely covering my ass. No bra. Thong optional. I’d rolled my eyes when the box arrived, but I put it on anyway. Because screw him. And because I wanted every wolf in that room to choke on the sight.

The second I stepped in, his gaze snapped to me like a whip. He was at the head table, Andrea on his right. She was everything the north loved: tall, blonde, ice-blue gown hugging curves that didn’t need help. Her hand rested on his forearm, diamond flashing on her finger. She smiled at the crowd like she’d already won.

Devon didn’t smile. He just stared at me, eyes black, jaw tight. Then he winked.

I flipped him off behind a champagne tray. He smirked.

"Careful," Brielle hissed beside me, balancing a tray of flutes. "Half the elders just saw that."

"Let them."

Andrea’s gaze slid over, found me. Her smile turned razor-sharp.

"Omega," she called, sweet as antifreeze. "Alpha Devon’s glass is empty."

I walked over, hips swaying because I knew exactly where his eyes were. Set the bottle down in front of him without a word. His fingers brushed mine when he took it. Deliberately. Electricity shot straight between my legs.

"Thank you, Irene," Andrea said, loud enough for the tables nearby to hear. "So good to see staff who know their place."

Devon’s grip on the bottle tightened. I met her eyes.

"Happy to serve, future Luna," I answered, voice dripping sugar. "Let me know if you need anything else. Like a mirror. Sometimes it’s hard to see the knife in your own back."

A few gasps. Devon’s lips twitched. He smirked, eyes dark and possessive on me.

"What do you mean?" Andrea probed.

"Nothing. Just informing you about a devil in your life that might ruin you."

"Watch your mouth." She spat.

I glared. "Watch your back, future Luna."

Devon watched me with interest, eyes proud.

Andrea leaned toward him, hand sliding up his chest. "Darling, your little pet has a mouth."

He caught her wrist, moved it off him with polite finality. "Irene has many talents," he said, never looking away from me. "Mouth included." he paused, champagne flute hovering around his lips. "Oh, and tongue."

Heat flooded my face. I spun and walked off before I did something stupid. Like stab someone with a shrimp fork.

For the next hour I circled the room, refilling glasses, smiling until my cheeks hurt. Every time I glanced up, Devon was watching. Not Andrea. Me. His hand stayed on her waist for appearances, but his eyes tracked my every step like a predator deciding when to pounce.

Andrea noticed. She started touching him more: fingers in his hair, lips to his ear, laughing too loud. Each time, his jaw got tighter.

I was done.

I slipped out a side door, heels clicking down the empty corridor toward his private elevator. Needed my handbag from his office, then I was going back to the Omega quarters and drinking until I forgot tonight existed.

The elevator doors slid open. I stepped in, punched the penthouse button.

The doors started to close.

A black-suited arm shot between them. They reopened.

Devon stepped inside alone.

The elevator slid close and he hit the emergency stop. The elevator jolted to a halt between floors.

I backed up. "What the hell—"

He was on me before I finished the sentence.

Mouth crashing into mine, brutal, punishing. Teeth clacking, tongue forcing past my lips like he wanted to devour me whole. I shoved at his chest; he slammed me against the wall, one hand fisting my hair, the other gripping my thigh and yanking it up around his hip.

I thrashed. He kissed harder.

His teeth caught my lower lip, bit down until blood flooded my mouth. I moaned, hated myself for it. My wolf surged forward for one blinding second, gold flashing behind my eyes, claws prickling under my nails, heat roaring through my blood before she slipped away again.

Devon growled against my bleeding lip, licking the wound like it belonged to him.

My legs started shaking. I couldn’t stop them.

He dragged his mouth to my ear, breath ragged.

"You don’t understand, Irene," he rasped, voice raw. "You drive me fucking mad."

The knock came at noon, sharp and official. Brielle opened the door to our Omega hut and froze.

Andrea Voss stood on the threshold in a white coat and heels, flanked by two guards. She smiled like winter.

"I’m here to inspect living conditions for the lower ranks," she announced loud enough for the entire row of huts to hear. "Alpha’s orders."

Brielle stepped aside. I didn’t.

Andrea’s gaze cut straight to me. "Irene. Walk with me."

I folded my arms. "Make me."

Her smile didn’t waver. She snapped her fingers. The guards moved forward.

I rolled my eyes and stepped outside. "Lead the way, princess."

We walked behind the huts, far enough that no one could overhear. The second we rounded the corner she whirled, shoving me against the wall.

"Listen carefully, you little whore," she hissed. "You’re the Alpha’s new favorite toy. I see the way you look at him. Touch him again, breathe near him again, and I’ll have you flogged in the square until there’s nothing left to look at."

I laughed. Right in her face.

"That’s cute," I said. "Yesterday he had me bent over his desk so hard the wood cracked." I lied but he would have if I allowed it. "Guess he forgot to mention that at breakfast."

Her hand cracked across my cheek. Hard.

I tasted blood. My wolf snarled, claws itching. My wolf comes back whenever I’m provoked or my emotions were heightened.

I slapped her back, harder. The sound echoed.

She stumbled, eyes wide.

"Touch me again," I said, voice low, "and I’ll break every finger you use."

Andrea straightened, cheek red. "You think you’re special because he fucks you?"

"No," I said. "I think you’re pathetic because you’re still wearing his ring while he’s balls-deep in me every night."

Her nostrils flared. "Then leave him. Walk away. Have some dignity."

I stepped closer. "I plan on killing him, Andrea. Slowly. Painfully. I’m just waiting for the right moment." I smiled. "So really, you should thank me. I’m doing you a favor."

She stared, breathing hard. "You’re sleeping with a male you want dead."

"Yep." I shrugged. "Difference is, Devon knows I want him dead. And he still spreads my legs every chance he gets because apparently his dick sliding inside me one more time is worth more than his life." I leaned in, voice a whisper. "He’d rather die coming than live without it. That’s how fucked we both are."

Andrea went pale.

"Run along," I said, patting her cheek with the same hand I’d slapped her with. "Find a nice Beta somewhere who doesn’t make you share."

She opened her mouth, closed it, then turned and stormed off, heels stabbing the dirt.

Brielle was waiting when I walked back in.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Never better."

That night a black envelope slid under my door.

One line in Devon’s handwriting:

Penthouse. Now.

—D

I went.

The office was empty. Lights off. I walked through, heels clicking, and took the stairs down to the private floor.

The living room hit me like a punch: floor-to-ceiling windows showing the main pack lights, gorgeous and breathtaking, glittering like scattered diamonds, black marble floors, one massive L-shaped charcoal couch facing a screen the size of a billboard. Midnight-blue walls, low lighting, a single glass of red wine on the table.

Devon sat sprawled in the center of the couch, shirt unbuttoned to the sternum, feet bare, remote in one hand, wine in the other. Some old war movie played on mute.

He didn’t look at me right away.

"Sit," he said.

I stayed standing. "You summoned me to watch TV?"

"I summoned you because I wanted you here." He finally turned his head. Grey eyes raked over me slow, possessive. "Sit, Irene."

I dropped onto the opposite end of the couch, as far as I could get.

He smirked. "Scared?"

"Of catching whatever disease your fiancée has? Maybe."

His smirk vanished. He set the glass down, leaned forward.

"What did Andrea say to you today?"

I lifted my chin. "That she’ll have me flogged if I touch you again."

He went very still. "And?"

"I told her you already fucked me over your desk yesterday and she should probably get used to sharing."

His eyes flashed black.

"Then I slapped her," I added. "She slapped me first."

Devon stood so fast the couch shifted. In two strides he was in front of me, gripping my chin, tilting my face to the light. His thumb brushed the faint mark on my cheek.

"She touched you," he said, voice deadly quiet.

"Relax. I touched her back harder."

He searched my eyes. "You defended my claim on you."

"I defended my right to slap someone if they touch me. Don’t flatter yourself."

He released my chin, but didn’t step back. "You told her you’re going to kill me."

I met his stare. "I did."

"And she believed you."

"She should because it is happening."

He crouched, elbows on his knees, bringing us eye-level. "Say it to my face."

I leaned in until our noses almost touched. "I’m going to kill you, Devon Warner. One day I’ll watch you bleed out and I’ll smile. A victorious smile. Then, I’ll whisper to the air that your blood bleeds is for my brother, my father and for the Pack."

His pupils blew wide. He inhaled like my words were oxygen.

"Good," he murmured. "Keep that promise close. Makes me want to fuck you even more."

I laughed, sharp. "You’re deranged."

"Completely." His hand slid to my throat, thumb stroking my pulse. "Tell me again how you’ll kill me."

I grabbed his wrist, nails digging in. "Silver blade. Slow. Right here." I dragged his hand down to the spot over his heart. "Then I’ll carve my name into your skin so even hell knows who ended you."

He groaned, low and filthy. "Fuck, Irene."

His mouth crashed into mine before I could breathe. I kissed him back just as hard, biting his lip until he growled. He hauled me into his lap, hands already yanking my shirt over my head.

I shoved him back, straddled him, pinned his wrists.

"You don’t get to touch until I say," I hissed.

His grin was all wolf. "Make me."

I ground down hard. He cursed, hips bucking.

"Still want me to kill you?" I asked against his mouth.

"Only if I’m inside you when you do it."

I kissed him again, nails raking down his chest, drawing blood.

The movie played on, forgotten.