The warmth of the morning sun touched Noah's face, pulling him from a deep, troubled sleep. He frowned, instinctively resisting the light, before begrudgingly forcing his eyelids open.
Confusion was his first sensation. He blinked at the strange, opulent room, his mind a blank slate for a moment. Then, the horrific events of the previous day slammed into him.
The memories rushed back—Nick's betrayal, the drug, the desperate escape, and the forceful man. The memory of what had happened in this bed made him recoil.
He shot upright on the floor in a moment of pure shock, immediately regretting the sudden movement. A searing pain ripped through his lower body, his legs failing entirely, and he slumped heavily back down onto the thick carpet.
It was only then that the reality of his condition truly hit him. His whole body ached as if he had been severely beaten. Worse, he felt an unpleasant wetness, a continuous, slow seepage, running down between his legs.
Noah bit his lip, cursing the man he had been with. It was supposed to be his first time, an experience he had imagined being tender and loving. Instead, it was brutal.
The man had shown no gentleness, and the assault had not been limited to one time. Noah didn't even remember when the man had stopped. All he knew was that after hours of pleading for release, and the man not stopping, Noah had simply lost consciousness.
He vividly recalled moments of waking up briefly, only to find the relentless act was still happening. He could only describe the Alpha as a beast in human form. Noah truly felt he had nearly died from the sheer physical trauma.
He scanned the suite, confirming that he was, mercifully, the only one left.
An intense wave of bitterness washed over him, and he sank his teeth into his lip in frustration. "That man is such a bastard," he whispered bitterly to the empty room. "He took what he wanted and just abandoned me right here."
Like any youth, Noah had cherished fantasies about his first intimacy, and this—this agonizing violation—was the opposite of everything he had hoped for. The realization that his elder brother, Nick, was responsible for putting him in this condition made his teeth grind in rage.
But rage had to wait. He was naked and sitting in a sticky mess. He couldn't stay on the floor like this. He needed to wash himself and find something to wear so he could flee the hotel for good.
He looked around from his seated position on the floor, spotting his trousers, the only thing he'd been wearing when he was dragged inside, crumpled under the sofa.
He forced his wobbly legs to push him up, dragging his aching body toward the couch, completely ignoring the embarrassing residue still running down his legs.
He managed to stand and pull his trousers and boxers from beneath the sofa cushions. When he saw the clothes, a loud, startled curse escaped him. They were completely shredded, torn beyond recognition.
"That motherfucker!" he shouted, his voice hoarse. "What the hell am I supposed to wear now?"
He was still staring helplessly at the scraps of fabric when he heard a soft clicking sound. The door to the en suite bathroom opened.
Noah, already struggling to maintain his balance, was so startled that his legs gave out again, and he dropped hard onto his backside.
He quickly grabbed the useless, torn trousers and held them up to shield his lower body. His eyes focused on the bathroom doorway. The handsome man who had brutalized him throughout the night emerged, looking impeccably fresh, organized, and utterly undisturbed.
The sight of the man, contrasted so starkly with his own wrecked state, made Noah's jaw clench in silent fury.
He couldn't even stand up. He was sure that if he had a mirror, his face would be puffy and wrecked from the hours he had spent crying in pain.
Yet, the perpetrator of his torment looked radiant. His face seemed to glow. He was still in a towel, casually wrapped around his waist, revealing powerful, perfectly sculpted legs and an upper body that seemed like it belonged in a sculpture.
His skin was rosy, his expression serene, as if he had just finished an invigorating communion with nature. The immense physical disparity between them was infuriating to Noah's eyes.
The man looked genuinely surprised to see Noah on the floor. He paused, asking with an open expression, "Are you okay? Why are you sitting on the floor?"
If only the bastard hadn't spoken. But the question was too much. Noah's anger erupted. He screamed at the man, pouring out his misery.
"Am I okay? Am I okay? Do I look okay to you? My legs are shaking so much I can barely stand! My whole body is aching as if a truck ran over me! That shameful seed of yours seems like it won't stop leaking out of me! I have a terrible headache, and you dare ask me if I am okay?"
The man's surprise was evident. The hand he was using to dry his hair froze. He let out a deep sigh. "I am truly sorry. I was in the middle of my rut. You just happened to walk past at that exact moment, completely drugged and sending out your own pheromones. You cannot completely blame me for losing control."
Noah ground his teeth. "Are you actually blaming this on me? You are utterly shameless! I only wanted to pass your door to get to the elevator so I could leave, but you deliberately dragged me inside! And now you dare shift the fault to me?"
The man looked at him, considering his words, before sighing once more. "I am not shifting the blame onto you. In a situation like this, neither of us can truly be held completely at fault. We were both under conditions that made restraint impossible, and things got completely out of hand. Now, please, go take a bath. I have already instructed my assistant to bring some new clothing for you. I apologize again for tearing your clothes. After you've cleaned up, we can talk."
Hearing the man suddenly relent and speak so calmly, even softly, Noah realized he couldn't afford another outburst; he would only exhaust himself and look ridiculous. He chose to accept the advice. He desperately needed to wash away the physical contamination.
But he was too shy to stand up fully exposed in front of the man. "Can you please help me get a towel too?" Noah asked, clutching the scraps of fabric to his waist. "I cannot possibly stand up like this."
The man gave a small, wry snicker. "I have seen everything already, though. What are you trying to hide from me now?"
Noah just rolled his eyes, utterly drained. "Just get me the towel."
The man didn't press him further. He turned and stepped back into the bathroom, quickly reappearing with a fresh towel, which he passed to Noah.
Still sitting on the floor, Noah commanded, "Please turn around."
The man obeyed. Noah struggled back onto his feet, tossed the pathetic, torn fabric aside, and wrapped the towel tightly around his waist.
"You can turn around now," he announced.
Once the man had turned, Noah staggered past him and into the large bathroom. The first thing he did was attend to the humiliating mess that had soaked his legs. Only after he had thoroughly cleaned himself did he finally approach the mirror.
And the sight of his own reflection made Noah feel absolutely sick with horror.