The warm mist evaporated from her face as she emerged into the cold expanse of the wide corridor.
She walked with complete pride, her damp red hair dropping faint beads of water onto the fabric of the luxurious robe, which radiated a heavy, remarkably powerful scent of masculine dominance.
In the middle of the wide hallway, as she crossed the interwoven shadows casting over the marble floor, a towering build stepped out from a dark corner.
Her feet were not trained to retreat, nor did she lessen her pace; she collided head-on with a broad chest as solid as tempered steel.
The dry clothes cradled in her hands jolted from the impact, and the sheer force of the collision pushed her a slight step backward.
She immediately lifted her icy gray eyes with unyielding audacity.
Her stare locked onto a pair of sharp brown eyes that gleamed like a hawk’s, burning with the same confident wolfish radiance: it was Alpha Zane.
Zane’s gaze locked onto her for a split second, his eyes narrowing as his cold stare shifted from her face which flared with intense defiance down to the stray droplets of water gliding down her throat, before settling on the royal bathrobe wrapped around her naked form and the clothes she gripped tightly in her hand.
He inhaled the air slowly, allowing his wolf to catch Asher’s pungent scent tangled with the disorienting fragrance of her human skin.
Then, he brought his index finger up to casually stroke the corner of his lip with a danger that dripped pure menace.
Taking a heavy step toward her, he closed the distance between them, leaning his powerful frame down slightly until his cool exhales battered her face.
He rasped in a sharp, mocking tone: “The human girl carries Asher Frost’s scent…
while wearing my personal bathrobe?” Roxy arched her eyebrows in bold disdain, fixing her stare onto his face without backing down an inch, asking in a dry, clipped tone: “Your bathrobe?” Zane tilted his head to the side, extending his long index finger with absolute stability, pointing directly at the left chest area of the black silk fabric wrapped around her femininity without making physical contact with her skin.
A faint, dark, and confident smirk broke across his lips: “Those are the letters of my name embroidered in gold thread, my sweet…
it seems you got the wrong address, or perhaps Asher fancied dressing you in something that belongs to me.” Roxy’s gray gaze dropped slowly toward the left side of her chest where his finger pointed.
She locked her eyes for a few seconds onto the fine, meticulously embroidered gold thread resting on the smooth black silk, clearly reading the two luxuriously woven initials: **(Z .
A)**.
In that exact fraction of a second, the gears in her rapid memory spun, recalling the corridor from early this morning; when she was exploring the perimeter of this enigmatic royal suite, she had read the cold gold lettering carved into the door of a room that clearly stated: **«Zane Alistair»**.
Not a single eyelash fluttered, nor did she take a step backward.
Instead, she lifted her head with agonizing slowness, confronting his sharp eyes with a gray stare overflowing with pure steel and arrogance.
The corner of her lip curled into a subtle, provocative smirk as she spoke in a dry, steady tone: “So you are Zane Alistair…” Zane narrowed his sharp eyes, meticulously analyzing the incredible stability in her features, a low hum of dark, poisoned admiration vibrating from his throat.
He leaned another inch closer until the fresh fragrance of the damp silk wrapped around her enveloped his hyper-acute senses.
He spoke in a calm voice dripping with authority and menace: “Precisely…
Zane Alistair.
And the Alpha standing before you right now does not appreciate seeing his personal belongings utilized by a passing human.” Roxy did not retreat; she anchored her frame and tightened her grip around her clean clothes, lifting her chin with a bold resilience that caused his pupils to dilate for a fraction of a second.
Her lips twisted into an arrogant smirk, her sharp, confident voice echoing through the empty corridor: “Your belongings?
Just a silk bathrobe I happened to find hanging by chance, Zane…
had I known it belonged to you, I wouldn’t have bothered touching it with my hands.” Zane extended his long hand with eerie slowness, tangling his fingers into the sash wrapped around her waist.
With a swift, sudden pull, he yanked her frame forward until she slammed flush against his solid chest.
Her sharp chin collided with his broad shoulder, and she felt the heat of his warm breath scorching her ear as he whispered in a tone forced with coldness: “Coincidences do not exist in the Alpha’s suite, my sweet…
but since you are already wearing my bathrobe, it means you have officially become part of my game now, whether you like it or not.” He ground his teeth together, studying her uncanny composure, while Roxy attempted to push his solid chest back using her free forearm without relinquishing her grip on her dry clothes.
She refused to let her expression crumble before this new trap, fixing her fierce gray stare deep into his sharp eyes, speaking in a sharp voice filled with confidence and contempt: “The game you speak of, Zane, does not interest me in the slightest…
and if you believe a piece of fabric will draw me into your chaotic wars, I strongly advise you to think again.” A dark smirk pulled across Zane’s lips, and he didn’t loosen his grip on her sash.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly to observe the water droplets gliding down her neck toward the rim of the robe, rasped out in a voice lowered to a deadly whisper: “The choice was never yours from the moment you set foot in this academy, human.” The corner of her mouth twisted into a fiery smirk, locking her gaze directly into his brown pupils without blinking, despite his firm grip on her sash and the relentless proximity of their bodies.
She lifted her chin with sharp, resilient defiance, speaking in a dry, definitive tone that dripped with stubbornness: “I have a name, and it is Roxy…
there is no need to call me ‘human’, wolf.” Zane’s movement halted for a split second, his dark smirk broadening into a playful, mocking smile overflowing with provocation.
A sarcastic chuckle escaped from between his teeth as he tilted his head, appraising the fierce spark in her gray eyes.
He didn’t loosen his grip; instead, he leaned even closer with playful audacity: “Oh…
Roxy?
A lovely name for a rebellious cat who thinks her human claws can harm a Royal Alpha.” His playful gaze dropped toward the gold thread embroidered on the edge of the black silk bathrobe over her chest before rising back to her eyes, speaking in a tone brimming with dark amusement and provocative challenge: “However, brave Roxy…
since you refuse my game, and since I am a man who cares deeply about his elegance and fine possessions, I cannot leave my personal bathrobe on your body.” He closed the remaining inch between them, placing a hand boldly over her waist, gesturing with his eyes toward the clothes she cradled in her hand, rasping in a playful, teasing tone: “So…
give it back to me right now, my sweet.
You can strip the robe off immediately and hand it over…
right here.” Roxy maintained her fierce gray stare on his brown eyes, her frozen features unbothered by his playful audacity.
She didn’t flinch, nor did she offer a single twitch of an eyelash that betrayed confusion or retreat.
She let his gaze linger over her unyielding face before releasing a low, dry, and superior laugh.
The corner of her lip curled into a wicked smirk.
Raising her free hand, she used her fingertips to lightly touch the upper trim of the black silk bathrobe near the collar, beginning to untie the sash with agonizing slowness, never severing eye contact with his cunning eyes.
“You are asking me to strip it off right here, Zane?” She spoke in a calm tone dripping with poisoned challenge, while the silk fabric slipped lightly off one shoulder, exposing the fair skin of her damp shoulder to his view.
“If you believe my nakedness will embarrass me or grant you a victorious thrill, you have reached the wrong address again.
The human speaking to you has nothing to hide…
but the real question here is…..” Her hand paused abruptly on the sash.
She tilted her head slightly, bringing her lips close to his ear, drenching her voice in lethal sarcasm: “Do you and your brave wolf possess enough courage to look at a woman who refuses to bow or feel fear?” Zane’s low laugh rumbled deep in his throat, a sudden wolfish gleam flaring in the depths of his brown eyes.
He had anticipated panic or an angry slap, yet this absolute arrogance ignited a wave of wild curiosity in his mind.
Deep within his consciousness, another voice echoed vibrating with a radiance entirely distinct from Asher’s possessive, grim wolf.
Zane’s wolf was a reckless, playful entity that thrived on hunting prey that refused to submit.
It sought no break in pride; rather, it relished stirring chaos, viewing this human’s defiance as a thrilling game that stoked its primal instincts.
The wolf’s voice echoed within Zane’s mind as a mocking growl, brimming with excitement and thrill: *(Look at her, Zane!..
She is stripping the robe off herself!
This red-headed human is genuinely insane…
and I thoroughly like her!)* The wolf released a sharp laugh inside Zane’s head, continuing in a tone dripping with enthusiasm and danger: *(Let her strip it off!
I want to see how this fierce cat holds up when we take another step toward her…
What a magnificent game!)* Zane’s low chuckle deepened, the wolfish brown glint in his eyes turning wild as he caught his inner beast’s reckless enthusiasm.
Slowly raising his large palm, he clamped his hand firmly over hers with a swift, fluid movement stopping her hand on the sash without causing her harm while his inner wolf cheered with wild delight: *(Show her that an Alistair wolf does not run from fire he dances right in the middle of it!)* Zane tilted his head back slightly, studying the radiant, steadfast flame before him with a deeper, far more dangerous smirk, rasping in a low voice that flowed like poisoned honey: “Oh…
Roxy, you are playing with fire in the middle of the night.
And my wolf who happens to thoroughly enjoy watching fires burn never closes his eyes to his prey.” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Z_Hira Leave your comments and opinions about the chapter.
Who did you like best: Zane, Usher, or Kaden?
As for Damien, we haven’t seen much of his screen time yet.