Revenge On The Tattooed Alpha

Olivia's POV.

“Happy birthday, my dear Olivia,” I heard my mother's usual cheerful voice pierce through my sleep, jolting me awake. Blinking my eyes open, I saw her seated beside me on the bed, her charming smile lighting up her face, her sea-blue eyes — the same ones I inherited — brimming with happiness and love.

“Happy fourteenth birthday, my darling.” Mother's smile widened, and I smiled as I tried to sit in bed.

“Good morning, Mother,” I greeted, rubbing my face with my hands.

“Morning, my darling. Are you excited to get your wolf?” Mother asked, and I swallowed nervously, which she noticed.

“You don’t have to be scared. If you don’t get your wolf today, you still have a chance on your eighteenth birthday when you might also find your mate,” she reassured me. I nodded, comforted by her words.

“So, I want you to dress up and come downstairs; everyone is waiting for you.”

“Alright, Mother,” I nodded while she kissed me before leaving my room.

After she left, I stood to my feet and went over to the mirror. Standing before the mirror, I smiled at my reflection. Today was my fourteenth birthday, and if I was lucky, I might get my wolf. I was so excited and anxious at the same time.

Taking a deep breath, I left the mirror and took my bath. After bathing, I got dressed in the new dress Mother had gotten for me and then packed my hair in a bun before leaving the room.

Arriving at the sitting room, I met everyone at the table: Mother, Father, and my elder brother James. They all smiled at me. “Happy birthday, Olivia,” they chorused in unison.

“Thanks, everyone.” I placed a kiss on Father’s cheek and then on Mother's before moving to James.

“Are you excited?” James asked, and I smiled and nodded.

I wanted to take my seat but noticed my favorite juice wasn’t on the table, so I excused myself and went to the kitchen. After picking up the can of juice, I heard loud voices coming from the dining room. Confused, I peeped through the kitchen door, and my breath hitched in my chest when I saw three masked men pointing guns at Father, Mother, and James.

“Who…” Before my Father could speak or shift to his wolf, the men fired countless shots at them, and my family dropped dead.

My legs became weak. I wanted to scream, but my voice failed me. “Check if they are dead,” the one who seemed like the leader spoke, and with teary eyes, I watched the men check on them and confirm they were dead.

“Good!”

The man I assumed was the leader pulled up his sleeve as he checked his wristwatch, and I noticed a scorpion tattoo on his wrist.

“We should go,” he ordered the two men, who obeyed and followed him out.

After they left, I stumbled out of the kitchen, rushed to Mother, and shook her. “Mother!” I cried but got no response. I went to Father and did the same thing but got no response from him. With panting breath and tears streaming down my face, I stumbled towards James, hoping against hope that he would wake up. “James, please,” I whispered, shaking his shoulder gently, but there was no movement, no response.

The reality of the situation crashed down on me like a tidal wave, overwhelming and suffocating. My family, my world, was gone in an instant. Numbness spread through my limbs, and a dizzying sensation swept over me. I clutched at the edge of the dining table for support, but it felt like the ground was slipping away beneath me.

The room began to spin, the walls closing in around me. I struggled to breathe, the air thick with the scent of fear and blood. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision, threatening to engulf me entirely. With trembling hands, I reached out for something, anything to hold on to, but my strength failed me.

As the world blurred into shadows, the last thing I remembered was the scorpion tattoo on the masked man's wrist.

***

Six years later.

The loud beeping of the alarm jolted me from my sleep. Grumbling tiredly, I opened my eyes, reached for my phone, and realized it was already 5pm.

“Shit!” I blurted and jumped out of bed. “Damn it! I will be late again.” I grunted and rushed to the bathroom. After taking a quick bath, I dressed up, packed my hair in a bun, grabbed my things, and rushed out of my apartment. I was lucky to get a taxi, and in a few minutes, I was at the club. Hurriedly, I went into the locker room, changed into my uniform, and made my way to the bar.

“You are late,” Sonia murmured.

“I'm sorry, I had a class today, and after getting home, I decided to take a nap. I didn’t know I set my alarm wrongly.” I explained to Sonia, who nodded understandingly.

“Well, you are lucky Sir Linus hasn’t come yet.” I sighed in relief at her words and got on with work.

Working in the biggest and most popular BDSM club comes with rules and regulations that all workers must follow. Men and women of caliber came here, and no matter what, you are never to talk about whom you saw at the BDSM club to anyone in the outside world. The moment you do, you will be sacked, and if the DOM you snitch on is wicked, you might be killed, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

“A glass of my usual whiskey,” DOM Phillip requested as he sat on the long stool.

“Alright, sir.” I nodded and went for his drink. After serving him, he smiled his usual friendly smile at me. “My offer still stands, Olivia, be my personal submissive, and I will treat you like a princess.”

He has been making this mouthwatering offer that every lady will jump into, but my answer will always remain no.

“I can’t, DOM Phillip,” I rejected politely for the hundredth time. “And my reasons are the same.”

He scoffed and took a sip of his drink. “You never cease to amaze me, pretty Olivia.” He smirked, while I flashed a friendly smile at him before walking away to attend to other Doms.

In this club, Doms and members are allowed to wear masks if they want to. Some members are high-profile businessmen and celebrities, so they prefer to hide their faces in a mask. Some members, like Sir Phillip, don’t care; they are usually without a mask, which is why I could easily know him.

“A glass of champagne,” a masked DOM requested, and I went for it. After placing the glass before him, I turned to leave, but he held my hand on the counter and smirked at me.

“How much for a night?” he asked, while massaging my hand, which got me irritated. But as one of the rules in the club as a worker, we are never allowed to be rude to members, especially the masked ones.

Forcing a smile on my face, I released myself from his grip. “Sorry, sir, but I am not a submissive,” I said in the most polite manner that I could.

“Three thousand dollars,” he offered, and I scoffed inwardly. I have been offered more and yet didn’t take it. What makes him think I would agree to three thousand dollars?

“I’m sorry, sir, I will have to reject your offer.” I said politely and turned to walk away.

I met up with Sonia, who raised a brow at me. “Another man who wants to fuck you?” she asked while I sighed.

Sonia was silent for a moment before she spoke. “Olivia, you are in huge debt; your brother’s hospital bills are piling up. Don’t you…”

“No!” I cut her off abruptly. “I will not sell my body.”

“Then how will you pay off your debts?” she questioned, while I remained silent and just looked away. I have no means to pay my debts aside from this job, which was ridiculous.

“Anita is coming, ignore her,” Sonia announced to me.

Anita, a waitress, sauntered over, a smirk plastered on her face. “Well, well, who do we have here? Olivia, our little wolfless wonder,” she mocked,

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my composure. “What do you want, Anita?” I asked calmly.

“Just thought I’d remind you how pathetic it is to be working here without a wolf,” she sneered. “Everyone knows you’re just a little lost lamb, unclaimed and unwanted.”

“Anita, just back off,” Sonia interjected,

Anita’s smirk widened as she looked at me. “Oh, I will. I just hope you figure out how to pay those debts soon, Olivia. Wouldn’t want your brother’s condition to worsen because of your stubborn pride.”

With that, she sauntered off, leaving me feeling a mix of anger and pain. Anita never ceased to remind me of being wolfless. Despite turning twenty, I was still not able to get or shift into my wolf, although I have a few qualities of werewolves, like fangs, claws, and the ability to perceive smells from a far distance, but I never had my wolf or even heard her voice, all thanks to the event that happened on my fourteenth birthday.

Sonia placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let her get to you, Olivia. You’ll find a way. We’ll find a way.”

I nodded, trying to push Anita’s words out of my mind. “Yeah, we will. I just need to keep working and hope for the best.”

I went back to work and tried to take my mind off my worries and pain, but constantly my mind would drift to it. Still, I shrugged it off and focused on work.

“Olivia,” Sir Linus, the manager of the club, called me, and I looked his way. “Sira is unwell, and she can’t perform with the others tonight. Will you take her place?”

“Yes, sir.” I responded excitedly.

“Good, go change up and meet up with the other girls.” He instructed before walking away.

I went back to Sonia. “I will be dancing as a stripper tonight,” I said excitedly. This was my third time filling in for a sick stripper, and the two times I had had such opportunities, I made a lot of money.

“Great! A lot of money will be made then. You are buying dinner,” Sonia requested, and I nodded before bidding her goodbye. Being a substitute stripper is nothing to be excited about; I hated those hungry sex-driven men and how they got turned on whenever I gave them a lap dance, but my situation had made me do things I didn’t want to do.

Arriving at the locker room, I met three other professional strippers already dressed and waiting for me.

“You are the one taking Sira’s place?” Kate asked, and I nodded. “Good, get dressed. We are running late.”

I nodded and quickly changed into stripper clothes, sexy lingerie that barely covered anything. The outfit consisted of a black lace bra, matching thong, and sheer stockings held up by a garter belt. I slipped on the sky-high stilettos that made my legs look impossibly long and glamorous, though I knew they would be murdered on my feet by the end of the night.

As I stood before the mirror, adjusting the straps and making sure everything was in place, I couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety. Dancing in front of a crowd of strangers, most of whom were powerful and influential, was never easy. But the money was good, and I needed every dollar to pay off my debts and take care of my brother.

“You look great,” Kate said, giving me an encouraging smile. “Just remember to stay confident. The men love it when you look like you own the stage.”

“I heard that the king of Alphas is attending today,” Cara, one of the strippers, spoke.

“Really?” Kate asked, surprised.

“Yes,” Cara confirmed her words. “I heard he had been in France for the past five years and got back to the country yesterday. He is coming here. In fact, he will be seated among the men we will be entertaining tonight,” Cara announced excitedly. “I just hope I’m lucky to give him a lap dance. Whoever among us that will get his attention will be extremely lucky…” Cara paused and turned to me. “Do your best, okay?”

I nodded, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves.

With one last look in the mirror, I followed Kate and the other strippers out of the locker room and towards the stage. The thumping bass of the club's music grew louder with each step, and the sound of male voices cheering and whistling filled the air.

Olivia’s POV.

The lights were dim, but the spotlight on the stage was bright enough to illuminate every curve of our bodies.

As we stepped onto the stage, I felt the familiar rush of adrenaline. The other girls took their positions, and I found mine at the center, where Sira would normally be. The music changed to a seductive, slow rhythm, and I began to move, letting the beat guide my hips and the sway of my body. Luckily, I was a good dancer.

The crowd's reaction was immediate. Cheers and applause erupted as I moved sensuously, my body becoming a tantalizing silhouette against the spotlight. I locked eyes with a few of the men in the front row, their lustful gazes feeding my performance. Despite my initial nerves, I felt a surge of confidence. This was my moment to shine, to earn the money I desperately needed.

As I continued to dance, I couldn't help but scan the crowd for familiar faces. High-profile businessmen and celebrities often frequented the club, their identities hidden behind masks. As I made my signature moves, my eyes met those of a masked DOM. He looked different and unfamiliar. Despite not being able to see the faces of Doms, I could easily recognize our usual members by the color and shape of their eyes, and this DOM, I was sure I hadn’t seen him before. He was fully masked, with only his lips and piercing green eyes visible.

He was sitting in a VIP booth, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. Gulping nervously, I forced myself to focus on the dance, on the movements that would bring in the most tips. As the song neared its end, I finished with a flourish, arching my back and throwing my head back as the crowd erupted in applause. Dollar bills rained down on the stage, and I couldn't help but smile. It had been a successful performance.

The money on the stage is usually divided into six parts: one part each for the four strippers and the other part for the club. As strippers, we have to hustle for our personal money by giving lap dances. Getting off the stage, I walked over to a familiar masked DOM, who smirked at me and gestured for me to dance for him.

Slowly, I got closer to him, turned my back against him, and lowered myself before him so that my ass was right in front of him. “Perfect ass,” he groaned and tried touching my ass, but I moved away. He frowned, took out some cash from his pocket, and handed it over to me.

“Now we are talking, sir.” I smirked and lowered my ass again to him, allowing him to smack it this time.

“So soft!” he groaned and kept spanking my ass while I began twerking for him. My moves were graceful and seductive, and I could hear him groaning as he massaged my ass cheeks.

“Give me a lap dance, baby girl,” he demanded huskily, and I swallowed my emotions and turned to him. I straddled his lap, my legs on either side of his, keeping a respectful distance while giving the illusion of intimacy. As I started to move my hips in slow, circular motions, his hands roamed over my back. This was part of the job—keeping them wanting more, but never letting them have too much.

The crowd's noise faded into the background as I focused on the man in front of me. He was clearly enjoying himself, his grip tightening occasionally, but he remained respectful of the club's rules. I noticed that as I moved on him, his dick was becoming hard, but I ignored it. I was already used to Doms getting aroused whenever I gave them a lap dance. He tried touching my boobs, but I moved away, and he frowned.

“How much to fuck you?” he asked as he held my ass.

“I don’t fuck clients,” I responded while continuing to give him the lap dance.

“Name your price.”

“I’m priceless for sex,” I responded, and the DOM frowned, but I ignored his frown and went on with the lap dance.

I noticed the masked DOM with the piercing green eyes watching me from his VIP booth. His gaze never wavered, and the intensity of his stare made my skin prickle with a mix of fear and intrigue. Who was he? And why was his gaze having such an effect on me?

When the song ended, I gracefully stood up and collected the cash the man handed me. “Thank you, sir,” I said, forcing a polite smile. As I tried to walk away, but I noticed the green-eyed man gesturing for me to come over to him.

“Me?” I asked nervously and saw him nod. Damn! Why was I feeling so nervous? Sucking in a deep breath, I seductively approached him, ignoring calls from the other Doms. Reaching where he sat, I flashed a friendly smile, but his expression was stern and firm.

The masked DOM’s intense gaze didn't waver. He lounged in the plush seat with an air of authority, exuding confidence and power. I could feel his eyes trailing every part of my body.

“Would you like a dance, sir?” I asked.

He nodded, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Yes. Dance for me,” he said, and I surprisingly found myself submitting to him.

I took a deep breath and began to move, swaying my hips in rhythm to the music. My body moved instinctively, every motion designed to entice and captivate him. His eyes followed my every move, and I could feel the intensity of his gaze burning into me. It was as if he were seeing right through me, seeing all my vulnerabilities and fears.

As I danced, I couldn't shake the feeling that this masked DOM was different. There was something about him that set him apart from the other patrons. His presence was commanding, almost magnetic, and I found myself drawn to him. “Come closer,” he instructed. I stepped closer, my body brushing against his knees. He reached out, his hands gently resting on my hips, guiding my movements. His touch was firm but not intrusive, commanding but not overbearing. It sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of fear and excitement.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his eyes never leaving mine. “Olivia,” I replied.

“Olivia,” he repeated, as if tasting the name on his tongue. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, forcing a smile. He leaned back, still holding my gaze. “Twerk for me.” He demanded, and I nodded before turning my back to him.

As I turned around, I felt the weight of his piercing gaze on me. His intense eyes tracked my every move, making me feel both exposed and powerful. I began to twerk, my movements slow and seductive. “Good girl,” he murmured. His hands rested lightly on my hips, not to control, but to feel the rhythm of my dance. He caressed my ass, and instead of feeling disgusted as I usually did when other Doms touched me, I leaned into his touch and wanted more. Fuck! What is wrong with me?

“Turn around," he commanded softly. I did as he asked, facing him once more. He studied me for a moment, his gaze piercing through the mask. "Sit on me.” He demanded. Swallowing my anxiety, I straddled him, my knees on either side of his thighs, feeling the firm muscles beneath the fabric of his pants. His eyes never left mine, and I found myself captivated by the intensity of his gaze. His hands rested on my hips, guiding my movements once more as I began to grind against him slowly, sensually. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, the firm grip of his hands sending shivers down my spine. It was as if he had a magnetic pull, that I couldn’t resist.

“Do you enjoy this, Olivia?” he asked, his voice a soft murmur that sent a thrill through me.

“Yes, sir,” I replied. It wasn’t a complete lie. There was something about this masked DOM that was different, something that made this dance feel less like a job and more like an intimate connection.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Good. Because I want to fuck you,” he groaned into my ear, and my breath hitched. I have heard countless men say such words to me, but why does it feel so different coming from him? Why does my whole body jerk in anticipation the moment he says that? “Tell me your price and consider it paid,” he muttered while I remained speechless and numb. Our gazes interlocked, and for a moment, I couldn’t look away from him. I was so intoxicated by his gaze that I couldn’t look away, and neither could he look away from me either.

The beeping of his cell phone made us break eye contact, and I heard him sigh as he reached for his phone. He picked up the call and placed the phone to his ear. But Something caught my attention, something that made my breath hitch in my chest. Right on his left wrist was the same unmistakable scorpion tattoo, the same tattoo that had been imprinted in my mind, the same tattoo that was on the wrist of the masked man who assassinated my family!