Archive of Our Own ^beta

The conference room was full, for once, thick with the sharp tang of werewolf pheromones as dominance simmered just below the surface.

Technically, Lena wasn’t supposed to challenge the Beta during a strategy review.

But technically, he started it.

Lena crossed one leg over the other, ignoring the stiffness in her spine as she met the Beta’s glare across the polished table. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, and the Alpha droned on about territory boundaries and faction compliance, but none of that mattered. Not when he was looking at her like that; like she’d overstepped, like she’d bared her throat without permission.

She hadn’t. And even if she had, it wouldn’t have been for him.

She tapped her pen twice against her notepad. “With respect,” she said, lifting her chin toward the Alpha, “that particular boundary issue wouldn’t have escalated if your enforcers weren’t going in hot. Humans notice property damage.”

Beside her, someone coughed, probably stifling a laugh. Across the table, Darian leaned back in his chair with the lazy, predatory calm of a wolf who didn’t need to growl to be dangerous.

“You’ve been dating a human long enough to forget how we work,” he said mildly. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand enforcement protocol.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Not loud. Not challenging. But present. Noting it. Marking it.

Lena’s spine locked. “I understand protocol just fine. But if wolves want to keep playing nice with human law, maybe don’t leave claw marks in drywall.”

Kael, the Alpha, didn’t lift his head, just let out a breath that sounded too close to amusement.

Darian smiled. Sharp. Cold. “You saying you could’ve handled it better?”

“I’m saying I wouldn’t have left a trail like an amateur.”

His chair scraped the floor as he stood.

So did hers.

The air in the room changed, snapped . Lena didn’t waver. She could feel the pulse behind her teeth, the instinct screaming at her to look away, to submit, but she wouldn’t. She never would. Not for him.

Kael’s voice finally cut in, smooth and low. “All right. That’s enough.”

Darian didn’t break her gaze. “Sure.”

He turned and left the room without another word, Lena hot on his heels.

The hallway outside was cool and quiet, all marble floors and hushed power. Lena stalked after him, heels striking sharp notes against the floor. She didn’t care who saw. Didn’t care that her hands were shaking or that her blood was still singing with pack tension.

She found him in his office, door open, jacket half-off, sleeves rolled to the elbow. He looked like trouble waiting to happen; broad-shouldered, black-eyed, and calm in a way that made her skin crawl.

She shut the door behind her.

He didn’t turn. “Come to back that up?”

“Come to remind you I don’t take orders from Betas.”

He moved then. Fast. Too fast. One step and he was there , crowding her against the door, hand braced beside her head, the heat of him a furnace against her skin.

“You think this is about rank ?” he said, voice low and rough.

She stared up at him, heart hammering. “You embarrassed me in front of the Alpha.”

“You embarrassed yourself when you forgot who you’re dealing with.”

Her laugh was thin and breathless. “You? You’re just pissed I’m not crawling after you like the others.”

His jaw ticked.

Bullseye.

“Keep testing me, Lena,” he murmured, his breath brushing her cheek. “See what happens.”

“You gonna bite me in the middle of HR? Mark me up where everyone can see?”

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just let the silence stretch.

And then, softer: “He doesn’t satisfy you.”

That stung more than it should’ve.

She tried to shove him back. He didn’t budge. “Stay out of my personal life.”

“You made it pack business the second you walked in smelling like a stranger.” His gaze flicked down, dragging along her body before he met her eyes once more.

Her throat tightened. “At least he doesn’t growl every time I speak.”

Darian leaned in, just enough to make her press back against the door. “Maybe I’d growl less if you stopped pretending you don’t want to be put in your place.”

And there it was. Hot, raw, unspoken, but finally said.

She swallowed hard. “You think you’re the one to do it?”

His hand rose slowly, brushing the edge of her jaw, not rough, not quite tender. Just there. Warning. She didn’t flinch; if anything, she leaned in. Just a fraction. His voice dropped to a whisper, right at her ear. 

“Careful. You keep mouthing off like that, and I’m gonna stop holding back.”

She arched a brow. “I never asked you to hold back.”

The tension snapped.

One second, he was steady, breathing deep like he was trying to talk himself down. The next, his mouth was on hers, fierce, punishing, all heat and frustration and months of watching her walk past him like he wasn’t there.

She met him bite for bite.

Teeth clashed. Lips bruised. Her fingers knotted in the front of his shirt, dragging him closer even as he caged her between the door and his body. He smelled like smoke and cedar and something wild, something deeper than cologne; alpha-adjacent , not because of rank, but because of how damn much space he took up.

He groaned when she bit his bottom lip.

“You little—”

She shoved him back a step, breathless. “Told you. You don’t scare me.”

His eyes glowed amber, just for a moment. Not a full shift. Just enough to remind her what he was. “I’m not trying to scare you.”

He caught her by the hips and turned her— fast —until her back hit the edge of his desk. Her spine arched. Papers scattered to the floor. She didn’t care.

“I’m trying,” he growled, “to make a point.”

His mouth claimed hers again, slower this time, more thorough. She felt it everywhere, his tongue coaxing hers open, his grip tightening on her waist like he meant to leave fingerprints behind. She let him. She wanted him to.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped against her mouth.

She hooked her leg around his thigh instead.

He groaned like a man breaking.

His hands were at her blouse, buttons undone one by one until it slipped off her shoulders. His gaze flicked over the lacy black bra, then met her eyes, hungry.

“Fuck. You wanted this.”

She dragged her nails down his chest. “You think I wear this for the human?”

That did it.

He shoved his hand into her hair and kissed her again, harder, rougher, like he wanted to sink into her until there was nothing left. She wrapped both legs around his hips this time, drawing him in, grinding against the hard line of his arousal with a sound that wasn’t entirely under her control.

He hissed through his teeth. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

“Then stop talking and win it.”

Clothes disappeared in pieces. His shirt hit the floor. Her skirt was bunched around her hips. He shoved aside her underwear and touched her like he already knew every inch—fingers rough, reverent, curling exactly right.

Lena’s head dropped back, a sharp gasp punching out of her. “Gods—”

“No,” Darian said roughly, his mouth against her neck. His tongue flicked over her pulse. His teeth grazed just behind her ear. “Say my name.”

She was already close, he knew it, felt it. She writhed on the desk, panting against the heat that coiled deep and hard in her belly.

“Say it,” he snarled, and that time, his fingers pushed deeper.

“Darian—”

He growled, low and pleased.

And when she came– shuddering, gasping, legs tightening around his hips– he didn’t stop. Just watched her fall apart with a possessive look that made her burn all over again.

Then he was unzipping his slacks, and she reached for him without thinking. He hissed when she touched him, and grabbed her wrist, hard .

“Not if you want this quick.”

She blinked, flushed, and still a little dazed. “You think I want quick?”

He hauled her forward until their foreheads touched. “I think,” he growled, “if I fuck you slow, you’re gonna start begging.”

She smirked, breath catching. “So what if I do?”

Darian didn’t answer.

He lined himself up, thrust into her in one long, brutal stroke, and she cried out, fingers scrambling for purchase on the desk as he filled her, stretched her, grounded her.

His hand found her throat; light, firm, not squeezing, just holding . A claim. A promise.

“Mine,” he said, voice almost ragged.

And when she tightened around him, gasping, he smiled. Not smug. Not cruel. Just possessive .

“You like that,” he said.

She should’ve denied it.

Instead, she looked him in the eye and said, “Then take me like you mean it.”

Darian didn’t move right away.

His chest heaved against hers, sweat just beginning to bead at his brow. His grip on her throat was loose, meant to ground her, not hurt her, but his other hand was pressed flat against the small of her back, anchoring her to the desk like he thought she might vanish if he let go.

She didn’t look away. Didn’t blink. Her lips were parted, pupils blown wide, a flush blooming high on her cheekbones. She was wrecked already, and still she pushed him for more.

“Careful,” he rasped, voice almost unrecognizable. “You’re not going to walk out of here the same.”

Lena smiled, slow and wolfish. “Good.”

And he snapped.

His hips drove into hers with punishing force, dragging a cry from her lips as she arched beneath him, spine bowing beautifully against the desk’s edge. He set a rhythm that was all dominance, brutal, claiming, relentless, but every time she gasped, he adjusted. Every time she clenched around him, he slowed just enough to draw it out.

The desk creaked beneath them. Papers had long since fluttered to the floor. One of her heels had fallen off, the other dangling precariously from her ankle. His name spilled from her mouth again and again, a broken prayer she couldn’t seem to stop.

“Say it louder,” he growled.

“Darian—fuck, yes —”

He pressed his forehead to hers, sweat-slick, his breath ragged. “That human never touched you like this.”

“No,” she gasped. “He couldn’t.”

He growled, satisfied, and thrust harder. “And you wanted me this whole damn time.”

She didn’t deny it. Couldn’t. Her nails raked down his back, blunt but desperate, dragging moans from his throat that sounded barely human.

He pulled back just enough to watch her; hair tangled, chest heaving, eyes glazed and locked on his. “Look at you,” he murmured. “So fucking perfect like this. Letting me ruin you.”

“Then do it,” she choked out. “Ruin me.”

His hand tightened slightly at her throat, just enough to tilt her chin back and bare her neck. He could see it, the place where his kind bit when they wanted to claim. His mouth watered. Her scent spiked.

He felt it, smelled it, needed it.

“You want my mark,” he said, low and stunned.

Her thighs tightened around him. “Yes.”

He faltered. Just for a heartbeat. “Lena, that’s—”

“I know what it means,” she said, voice shaking but steady. “I know. I still want it.”

Darian made a sound, almost a snarl, almost a groan, and buried his face against her neck.

“Gonna make you come first,” he muttered. “Wanna feel you fall apart around me. Then I’ll mark you.”

She whimpered. “Why not both?”

He smiled against her skin. Mine , the smile said. You’re mine.

His hand slipped between them again, fingers finding her clit with practiced ease. He circled once, twice– and she cried out, full-throated and raw, as her body clamped down around him.

“ Fuck— ”

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Let go for me.”

She shattered. Right there on his desk, her whole body trembling, hands fisting in his shirt like she could drag him down with her.

He didn’t stop.

He chased his own pleasure through the slick heat of her, lips locked to her pulse point, hips jerking into hers like a man possessed. Her name tore out of him when he came, grinding deep, his body shaking with it.

Only then did he bite.

It wasn’t deep. Not breaking the skin. But his teeth clamped over the tender curve where her neck met her shoulder, and he held her there as the last waves of his orgasm shuddered through him. It wasn’t quite a marking, but he wasn’t rejecting her, either. 

The growl that followed– low, guttural, pleased– rumbled straight from his chest into hers.

Mine, it said. 

He didn’t pull out right away.

They lay tangled on the desk, sweat cooling on their skin, the air thick with sex and something heavier. Something claimed. Something real.

Darian’s hand moved from her throat to her cheek, brushing the damp strands of hair from her face.

“You okay?” he murmured.

Lena nodded, still breathless. “Better than.”

His thumb traced her lower lip. “You meant it. About the mark.”

“I did.”

He didn’t smile, but the look in his eyes softened. A little wild. A little reverent.

“You realize what this means, don’t you?” he asked quietly. “Pack politics. The Alpha. Hell, HR .”

She grinned. “You gonna write me up for it?”

“I might,” he said. “After round two.”

Her laugh was hoarse. Wrecked. Glorious.

She reached up and pulled him down by the collar. “Then close the blinds, Beta. I’m not done with you yet.”

And she wasn’t. Not for a long time.

Later, Lena buttoned her blouse with fingers that wouldn’t stop trembling, her back to Darian as she smoothed her skirt down over her hips. She could still feel him inside her, around her, pressed into every breath she took. The scent of him clung to her skin, layered thick over her own. It would take hours to fade. Maybe longer. And they both knew it.

Behind her, Darian was quiet. Still pulling his shirt back on, still watching her like he hadn’t quite come down yet. His hunger wasn’t gone; it had just changed. Softer, more dangerous in a different way. Now that he’d had her, he looked at her like he didn’t plan to stop.

“You’re scent-marked,” he said, low and rough.

“I know.”

“If you want to hide it, I can help.”

Lena turned, brows arching. “You planning on rubbing lemons on me in the break room?”

He huffed a laugh but didn’t smile. Not really.

“It’s not subtle,” he added after a moment. “They’ll smell it. Kael will.”

She crossed the room, slower now, not quite ready to leave—but not quite willing to stay and ask what came next. “And?”

He stepped in front of her, blocking the door with that big, quiet frame of his. “And you work under the Alpha. As his assistant. You think this isn’t going to ripple?”

She tilted her head, meeting his gaze. “Are you regretting it?”

Darian went still.

“No,” he said finally. “I’m just thinking ahead. Like a good Beta’s supposed to.”

Something in her chest tightened. Not regret. Not fear. But awareness. What they’d done, what they were doing , wasn’t just sex. It was politics. It was rank. It was pack .

And she hadn’t walked into that office planning to burn the whole dynamic down.

“Do you think he’ll challenge it?” she asked, quieter now.

Darian looked away. “I think he’ll want to. Kael doesn’t like disorder. And we just disturbed the hierarchy.”

She felt a pulse low in her belly at the way he said that. But she forced herself to stay focused. “I’m not going to apologize.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

He reached for her hand then, calloused fingers brushing hers with surprising gentleness. “But if we’re doing this...”

She laced her fingers through his.

“We’re already doing this.”

He let out a slow breath, shoulders loosening just a little. “Then let me walk you out.”

“You think I need protection?”

“I think I want everyone to see who you’re walking out with.”

That... did something to her.

She didn’t fight him when he opened the door. Didn’t protest when he placed a hand at the small of her back, warm and firm, guiding her out with all the quiet dominance that came so naturally to him. It wasn’t a shove. It wasn’t a show. It was a statement, a promise, wordless and sure.

The elevator ride was silent, thick with everything unsaid. Darian stood close but didn’t touch her again, his presence alone a shield. Lena adjusted the collar of her blouse, but made no move to hide the bruise on her neck. Let them see. Let them wonder. She’d bear his mark soon enough. 

When the doors slid open and the office air hit them, cooler, sharper, alive with the scent of pack and curiosity, Lena stepped forward first. Chin high. Jaw set. Her heels clicked across the marble floor like punctuation marks.

Heads turned. Conversations paused. The shift in the air was immediate, instinctual.

Let them stare.

She wasn’t ashamed of the bruise on her neck, the tremble still in her limbs, or the wolf who walked at her side. She’d chosen this, chosen him. And by the way Darian walked half a step behind her, gaze hard and steady, one thing was clear: t hey’d both earned this. And neither of them was backing down.