Alaric froze at once. He knew those words. Those were the same words she had told him Asher used on her. By chance, could it be that his lightning somehow messed with her head and Asher’s compulsion malfunctioned. Instead of Asher, she now wanted him.
The gods help him because this was bad. As much as he desired Violet, he could not take her in this state. The girl didn’t even know what he was doing and he had no doubt she would hate his ass when the compulsion was over. He had to get her help.
But while Alaric was busy thinking of what to do, the horny Violet had already reached down and grabbed the outline of his raging member through his pants. Alaric nearly jerked out of his seat at the contact that sent a thrill right through him.
“Violet!” He groaned a warning. There was so much self control he had and when he snapped, it was safe to say there was no going back. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do that to her, not while she was like this.
Violet said in a pleading tone. “Why won’t you take me, my prince. I’m yours already. Please, let me burn for you.”
“I’ll let you gladly burn for me if you were in your right now. But right now, this would be a devastating inferno.” He said while trying to fight off her wandering hand.
But instead Violet grabbed him harder and he groaned loudly, “Violet!” She was going to be the death of him.
“I don’t care, my lightning prince… ” She purred, now grinding against him again, “As long as we burn. Just let me, my prince. Let the lightning guide you.”
Veins bulge in Alaric’s head, evidence of him holding on to his self control which was slipping with each passing minute. It was too tempting. He could give in and when Violet recovers, he could blame it on the fact that she was relentless and he had given in. She would understand. But no, Alaric could not do that. He would not let his desire define him.
With a great deal of restraint, Alaric grabbed Violet on the hips and set her on the desk before him, then got out of the seat, and away from him before she could stop him again.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” Violet’s voice was filled with fury as she realized what Alaric had done.
“Saving you from the shame that will no doubt consume you when you return to your senses and realize what you’ve done,” Alaric replied unapologetically, his tone firm.
“You don’t want me!” Violet spat angrily, her eyes blazing as she lunged forward to grab him. But Alaric sidestepped, moving swiftly to the other side of the classroom.
“Violet! You have to listen to me!” he said, trying to make her understand. “Between Asher’s persuasion and my lightning, something must have happened. Your head isn’t clear right now.”
“Apologies, my lightning prince,” Violet said mockingly, her tone dripping with defiance, “but my head has never been clearer.” She rushed at him again, her movements erratic but purposeful.
And so it began, a game of chase. Alaric maneuvered around the room with precision, carefully avoiding her every attempt to close the distance, all while his mind scrambled for a solution.
Frustration etched itself onto Violet’s face, and her demeanor shifted. She stood still, catching her breath, while Alaric remained on edge, bracing for her next move. When she moved, it wasn’t to charge at him again but to unbutton her shirt. At least the rest of it.
Alaric froze, his eyes widening as she dragged the shirt off her arms, exposing more of her skin.
“Are you really sure, my lightning prince, that you don’t like this?” Violet asked in a sultry tone, her voice teasing as she began massaging her breasts in an undeniably provocative manner.
“Stop this, Violet. Stop it right now!” Alaric growled.
But Violet only laughed, her tone both seductive and harsh. “Why? Because you can’t handle the heat? Maybe we should turn it up a notch.”
She reached for her bra strap, tugging it down deliberately, clearly intending to remove it entirely.
Before she could, Alaric moved. In one swift motion, he grabbed her arm from behind, forcing her to stop, and bent her over the desk.
“You’ve completely lost your mind!” Alaric barked, his voice trembling with anger, frustration, and something dangerously close to desire.
His entire body trembled, knowing how close he had been. If he had been just a second too late, he would have lost control completely, succumbing to the relentless need raging inside him. He was barely holding on, teetering on the edge of his self-restraint.
Violet’s unkind laughter echoed through the room, sharp and wicked, cutting through the space. Despite being overpowered and pinned down by him, she didn’t seem defeated. If anything, she seemed to revel in it.
Or perhaps, this had been her plan all along. She began to move against him, her body rocking deliberately, and Alaric almost groaned aloud, the mixture of frustration and desire nearly undoing him.
What kind of devious vixen had he entangled himself with?
With one hand, he pinned her arm more firmly, and with the other, he gripped her hips, trying to steady her. His voice was rough, a mixture of command and pleading. “Stop it, Violet!”
And then, just as the tension reached its peak, voices carried from outside the room.
“I told you, Roman. This is where he’ll be. Alpha Alaric’s probably sleeping-” The door creaked open, and the voices trailed off into stunned silence.
Alaric froze, his head snapping toward the doorway, where Roman and his beta stood, their eyes wide as they took in the scene before them. Violet, bent over the desk half naked, looked like a picture of debauchery. Alaric’s position behind her, his hand gripping her firmly, only made it worse.
For a moment, no one moved. The silence was deafening.
And then Violet in that state, ever the devious vixen, turned her head toward Roman and said with a sweet, breathless voice, “Help me.”
~ Roman ~
Roman Draven spoke one language fluently: the universal language of love. He adored women, and why wouldn’t he? Women were perfection embodied-their soft, firm curves were a divine temptation. Their breasts, two perfect handfuls, begged to be caressed, massaged, and suckled until their sweet cries filled the air, a symphony just for him.
And then there was the bottom, two irresistible, delectable halves designed for his hands-to be smacked, groped, and kneaded to his heart’s content. But the ultimate treasure, the pi?ce de r?sistance, was the sweetest part of all-their pussy. To Roman, there was no finer ambrosia than the juices he could taste while his tongue worshipped their sensitive clit.
Women, to him, were God’s greatest gift, treasures that deserved to be cherished, adored, and pleased beyond measure.
However, there was one thing that stirred a deep, seething rage within Roman and it was men who sought to hurt women in the most vile and degrading way imaginable. To Roman, it was an unforgivable crime.
Why resort to violence when there were countless ways to win a woman over? You could write her heartfelt letters, the kind that made her smile just thinking about you.
You could surprise her with flowers, each petal a symbol of your admiration. You could serenade her with romantic songs, even if your voice wasn’t perfect-effort mattered more than skill. For the daring, you could give her a taste of the pleasure she was missing, leaving her craving more, willingly.
There were endless paths to her heart, to win her affection. With all these options, why would anyone choose cruelty? Roman couldn’t fathom it, nor could he tolerate it.
Men who hurt women, who used fear and force rather than charm and respect, were the lowest of the low in his eyes. He thoroughly despised them and made it his unspoken mission to protect women from such monsters whenever he could.
Roman’s eyes burned with anger as he took in the scene before him, his jaw tightening at what he thought was undeniable evidence of Alaric forcing himself on Violet. He couldn’t fathom such a betrayal, especially from a fellow Cardinal Alpha. Violet’s desperate call for help – filled with faux distress, unknown to him – only solidified the wrong assumption in his mind.
“Get Asher,” Roman commanded his beta sharply, his voice laced with barely contained fury. His beta, though equally stunned, snapped out of it and quickly exited the room, closing the door behind him.
Roman’s steps were heavy as he advanced toward Alaric, his fists clenched with rage. Alaric, who instantly recognized the misunderstanding from the stormy look in Roman’s eyes, raised his hands in a futile attempt to calm him. “No, it’s not what you’re thinking!” he said desperately.
But Roman wasn’t listening. The red haze of anger clouded his judgment, and without hesitation, he swung his fist. The punch landed squarely on Alaric’s face, sending him staggering back, momentarily dazed. Violet, freed from Alaric’s grip, stood off to the side, watching the scene unfold with a strange expression of satisfaction.
Roman wasn’t done. He grabbed Alaric by the collar and landed another punch, the force reverberating through the room.
Alaric winced, trying to shield himself. “Roman, stop!” he pleaded, but his words fell on deaf ears as Roman drew back his fist for a third strike.
Before the blow could land, a soft touch on Roman’s back froze him in place. It was Violet. Her hand, warm and gentle, seemed to dissolve the tension that had consumed him. Slowly, he turned to face her, his anger melting away like snow under the sun.
With a delighted smile, Violet cupped Roman’s face in her hands. Her gaze was soft yet unsettling, and before Roman could register what was happening, she pulled him down and kissed him.
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