A Rogue For The Quadruplet Alpha's.

Maria.

He kept talking, his voice a constant pressure against my ears, questions spilling one after another, sharp and demanding, never giving me room to breathe, never giving me space to answer. Each time I tried to gather my thoughts, to form even a single word, his lips would descend on mine again, stealing not just my voice but my air, my strength, my balance.

Every kiss left me weaker.

Not because I wanted it, no, that wasn’t it, but because my body betrayed me in ways I hated. My knees softened. My fingers curled uselessly at my sides. My heart thudded wildly against my ribs as if it didn’t understand fear the way my mind did. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating, like being trapped in a storm I hadn’t chosen to stand in.

He kissed me like he was trying to prove something. Like he was trying to erase something.

Each time his mouth brushed mine, my thoughts scattered, answers dissolving before I could hold onto them. I felt cornered, not by the wall at my back, but by his intensity, his authority, the bond he so clearly believed gave him every right to me.

Then, finally, he pulled back.

Just slightly.

His forehead rested against mine, warm and heavy, his breath mingling with mine in uneven bursts. Our eyes locked, and for a moment the world narrowed to just the two of us, his gaze burning, searching, demanding; mine uncertain, shaken, but still standing.

And then he asked the question.

"Do you think that Vincent can kiss you like this?" His voice was harsh, edged with something dark. "Do you think he could ever make you feel this?"

The words struck deep, not because they were true, but because they were meant to wound. To belittle. To remind me of my place in his world.

Before I could respond, before I could even decide if I wanted to, he continued, steamrolling over the silence.

"He’s just a rogue," he said, contempt dripping from every syllable. "What does he have to offer you? What future could he possibly give you?"

I stared at him.

Silent.

My chest felt tight, my thoughts tangled. I didn’t answer right away, not because I didn’t have one, but because saying it felt dangerous. Because I knew whatever truth I spoke would either anger him, or expose me.

But something inside me refused to stay quiet.

So when I finally spoke, my voice trembled, yet it didn’t break.

"Peace, Alpha Aidan," I said softly. Honestly. "He offers me peace."

The air between us shifted.

I felt it before I saw it, the way his body went still, the way the heat in his gaze cooled into something harder, sharper. His face changed slowly, like stone settling into place.

"Peace?" he echoed coldly.

That single word sent a chill through me.

"I don’t think he can," he continued, his lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile that made my stomach twist. "Because the next time I see him that close to you, I can’t guarantee you’ll ever see him again to offer you that so-called peace."

His voice dropped, low and deliberate, each word sinking in like a blade.

"He would be gone. Forever."

I froze.

Fear slid through my veins, cold and paralyzing. My breath caught painfully in my throat as my mind raced, scrambling to make sense of what he had just said.

Did he just threaten me?

No—worse.

Did he just threaten Vincent?

My heart pounded violently as questions flooded me, one after another, each more terrifying than the last.

Was he really capable of that?

Vincent hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t crossed a line. He hadn’t demanded anything from me. He had only been kind, gentle, and present.

Was that a crime now?

Was being my friend enough to deserve a death sentence?

I was still standing there, shaken, fear clinging to me like a second skin, when his hand came up suddenly. His fingers closed around my neck, not tight enough to choke, but firm enough to remind me that I couldn’t move, couldn’t look away.

I gasped softly, my eyes snapping back to his.

He leaned in and claimed my lips again.

This time, there was no urgency, only control, possession. A silent warning pressed into every second of the kiss.

I struggled to pull away, panic fluttering in my chest as I twisted against him, but his hold only tightened. The more I resisted, the more relentless he became, his mouth claiming mine with an insistence that left no room for protest. It felt like he was determined to drown out every thought in my head, every instinct screaming at me to stop.

I shook my head from side to side, trying to break free, trying to loosen his grip, but it was useless. He was stronger, firmer, and unyielding. My hands pressed against his chest, pushing, pleading without words, yet he didn’t relent. Instead, his hold shifted—sudden, sharp—and the unexpected sting sent a jolt through me.

I froze.

Not because I wanted to, but because my body betrayed me in the cruelest way.

A strange, confusing sensation rippled through me, stealing the strength from my limbs. My resistance faltered, my movements stilled, and before I could gather myself again, he took full advantage of my hesitation. His mouth returned to mine, deeper this time, more consuming, as if he sensed my momentary weakness and seized it without mercy.

I hated myself for it.

Hated the way my heart betrayed me, pounding so hard it drowned out my own thoughts, as if it had decided to act on instinct rather than reason. Hated the uneven pull of my breath, the way it stuttered and shook, exposing everything I was trying desperately to hide. Most of all, I hated the way my body responded, traitorous, unfaithful, leaning into sensations I had already rejected in my mind. Every part of me screamed no, yet my nerves lit up anyway, answering to him without permission.

I felt trapped inside my own skin, a prisoner to reactions I couldn’t control, suspended between fear and something far more confusing. My will felt slippery, like it was dissolving, slipping away as I followed the rhythm he set, moving not because I wanted to, but because my body no longer knew how to resist.

"Admit it, Maria," he murmured between kisses, his voice low and possessive, brushing against my lips like a threat dressed up as intimacy. Each word wrapped tighter around me. "Vincent cannot kiss you this way. He cannot make you feel this way."

The words sliced through me, sharp, deliberate, cruel in their certainty, leaving behind a sting that went deeper than touch. They burrowed into my chest, into the fragile space where guilt and shame already lived, and twisted there, forcing me to feel everything at once.

I squeezed my eyes shut, a bitter curse forming in my chest, not at Vincent, not even fully at him, but at the cruel fate that had bound me to men who saw my body as proof, as territory, as something to conquer rather than protect.

For a moment, a terrible, dangerous moment, we were lost in it. Or rather, he was, and my body followed despite my fear. His hands roamed with a familiarity that made my skin burn, straying into places I didn’t want them to be, places that made my thoughts scatter in confusion and shame, from my thighs, to pushing my panties to the side, his cold fingers brushing against my clit in for a few seconds. I felt exposed, overwhelmed, my balance teetering as he pressed closer, crowding my space until there was nowhere left to retreat.

I felt his cock harden, pressing against me, undeniable, and instinctively I recoiled, trying to create distance, trying to breathe. But his hands and lips pulled me back, refusing to let me go, dragging me once more into the storm of sensations I was fighting so desperately to escape.

My heart pounded violently.

This was wrong.

I knew it was wrong.

And just when I felt myself slipping again, just when the world narrowed too much, when fear and confusion tangled beyond recognition, a voice cut through the haze.

Sharp, furious and unmistakable.

"Maria!!!"

The sound of my name hit me like cold water.

My eyes flew open, snapping to the source of the voice, and there she was, standing there with blazing eyes, fury and shock written clearly across her face.

Vanessa.

Reality crashed back in all at once.

Horror surged through me, clearing my head in an instant, and I shoved Aidan away with all the strength I had left. He staggered back a step, clearly unwilling to stop, his grip loosening only because he had no choice.

My chest heaved as I pulled away, my lips tingling, my body trembling, not with desire, but with fear, shame, and the crushing weight of being seen in a moment I never wanted to exist.

Everything had changed.

And standing there, exposed under Vanessa’s furious gaze, I knew I was in for some trouble.