Page 14 of Alpha Ruined
CHAPTER 5
BREE
The manin front of her is breathtakingly handsome.
Gorgeous,Bree’s mind supplies.He’s gorgeous.
Dressed in a fitted grey blazer, white button-up shirt and black slacks, he looks like he belongs anywhere but in the seedy basement of an abandoned prison.
Even though the lighting is poor, she can still appreciate his high cheekbones, full lips, and piercing eyes. His inky black hair is perfectly styled, except for one errant tuft that falls out of place on his forehead.
Alpha.
He’s looking at her like he’s in on a joke she’s not aware of, the corner of his lip quirking up. With his arms crossed, he leans casually against the wall, with a cocked, sculpted eyebrow. “Last time I checked, this was a male prison only.”
He’s pale, too, as if he only comes out at night.
Bree stares at him for far too long, caught between shockand shame at being caught. “I got lost,” she says lamely, her voice cracking.
He smiles this time, showing off perfect straight white teeth. “Lost,” he repeats slowly, delight simmering in his eyes. “You’re lost.” His voice is almost a purr with how the words roll off his tongue. “Well, it’s a good thing I found you, then.”
She bites her lip, and his eyes focus on her mouth.
Everything about him screamsdanger.
No one else knows she’s here. He could do anything to her, and no one would know.
He moves off the wall, taking a step closer, and she takes one back.
“Wait. Hold on.” He stops and raises his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not here to hurt you, but I can show you the way out. Only if you want, of course. You’re welcome to stay here doing…whatever it is you’re doing down here.”
She swallows nervously. It’s not like she’s never seen an attractive Alpha before, but the effect he has on her is downright embarrassing.
Yes, he’s hot, and his outfit is tailored to perfection.
So what?
He glances curiously at the notebook at her side, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Are you a writer?”
She’s still caught off guard by his presence, and it takes her a moment to reply.
“I…yes,” she says. “I’m a journalist.”
“Ah. So, maybe you aren’t lost, then. You’re just trespassing.” The smirk returns to his face. “You’re just another person wanting to write about that tragic story.”
She scoffs. “Sure.”
“So, what do you think?” he asks softly.
“What do I think about what?” It takes all her willpower to maintain eye contact with him.
“Do you think he killed her?” He grins at his suggestion. “Or do you think the social worker is still with him, somewhere on the run?”
He takes a step closer to her, and that’s when his scent finally hits her.
He’s citrus, sea salt, and everything that she wishes her mate would smell like. It’s welcoming, the slightest bit spicy, and absolutelydelicious.
Her mating gland throbs underneath her sweater, and she’s mortified.