Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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She’s not fucking eighteen yet. Some wolves don’t even awaken at that age. That’s why the bond happens after. So why the fuck can I smell her? Feel her? And worst of all?
I reacted.
A sharp growl rumbles in my chest, vibrating through my ribs. My jaw clenches so tight my molars creak. I press my hands into the shower tile, letting the ice–cold water slam against my body.
It should help. It doesn’t. This is wrong. A mistake. A fucking glitch in the universe meant to distract me, weaken me. A test to see if I’m worthy of leading this pack. Because if I give in—if I fail–I’m not fit to be Alpha. I slam a fist against the wall.
Control. Get control.
I am not thinking about Jessica Wilkinson’s scent. I am not thinking about how she felt against me and I am not fucking
hard right now.
…Except I am.
My lips pull back from my teeth. A growl builds in my chest, low, vibrating, hungry. Fucking unacceptable.
“Do you want me to help with that?”
My jaw locks and tilt my head slowly to see Stella? Bella? Ariella? I can’t even remember her name. All I know is that I picked her up earlier in the bar after I drop Jessica on my father’s office.
Slowly, too slowly, I shot my arms out reaching the woman’s shoulder and guiding her to drop on her fucking knees.
She fucking offered.
Without second thoughts, I stuffed my cock down her throat and fuck her. “Shit,” I blew out a breath.“Ah, damn.”
I couldn’t possibly be thinking about her right?
The woman whimpered, her hands on my thighs trying to stop me from obliterating every inch of her throat but I couldn’t fucking care less.
Heck, I am no saint.
I had done many despicable things to be where I am right now but nobody, nobody had ever made me feel like this. I grunt, fisting a handful of her hair, hips snapping forward as she takes me deep, choking around the length of me.
Her mouth is warm. Wet. Perfectly trained to please. It should be enough. It should be fucking enough but when I close my eyes, for a single, brutal second–I see her.
Jessica Wilkinson, breathless, angry, trapped against me..
My jaw tightens. I slam my hips forward, forcing myself to forget. “Oh, fuck.”
The pleasure rolls through me in a sharp, violent release.
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12:38 Wed, 30 Jul
Chapter 4
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My muscles lock, my body strains, and I hold myself in my own hands as I let my cum shot down on the woman’s body on the floor. She looks so perfect and in place. The image of her on the floor, quivering, ruined, should be enough to make me want to drag her to bed and take more.
But I won’t because my wolf is fucking silent. Because I am hard, burning, wrecked- and there’s only one woman that I fucking want right now.
“Get out.”
She blinks. “What?”
“Get the fuck out.”
Her lips part–shock, offense, a flicker of hurt but she doesn’t move fast enough. I hate it when they fucking malfunctions like this. I stand, towering over her, chest rising too slow, too controlled. “Now!”
She scrambles back, grabs her clothes, mutters something about me being a cold bastard. I don’t care. I barely hear her. Because the second she’s gone, I drop onto the corner of the cold bathroom, head in my hands, breath uneven.
And I know–No one else is going to fix this. No one else is going to erase her.
Jessica Wilkinson is in my fucking blood.
And I don’t think I’ll ever get her out.
It takes me long minutes before I can even move. Before I can gather the shattered, broken pieces of myself because an alpha cannot be weak. From the outside, it looks like this shit is easy but try being the son of the Westwood. Try carrying the weight of a legacy built on dominance, blood, and absolute fucking control.
Try being me.
I roll my shoulders back, exhale, shake the tension out of my fingers a nd then–I knock on my father’s office door.
A sharp, single rap.
“Come in.”
I push open the door, stepping inside, shoulders squared because he got only one rule for me. No matter what’s
happening to me–no matter what’s happening inside me–**I don’t falter in front of him.
My father don’t even acknowledge. So I proceed reading my reports like how I always does. Training. Pack affairs. Patrol status. Territory reports. The bullshit details that make the pack function.
When I was done, I had to wait a few more minutes before he gave me his worth–fucking–time.
*
And what about your Luna?”
I clenched my jaw. Not this fucking conversation again. ” i told you I can lead without a fucking Luna.”
“The pack expects stability,” he says, voice even. “The Elders expect continuity. I expect more than obedience. I expect that you find yourself a worthy strong Luna to continue the bloodline of our pack.”
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12:39 Wed, 30 Jul G.
Chapter 4
There it is.
The real conversation.
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The Westwoods have ruled this pack for over two centuries. Through war. Through blood. Through unshakable, ruthless
dominance.
We are the strongest pack in the North because we take what we need. Because we don’t hesitate. We don’t love. We
produce. We breed strong wolves, strong warriors, strong sons who will rule after us.
And my very own father doesn’t believe in mates. He doesn’t believe in bonds. He believes in breeding. In taking a woman, putting sons in her, and moving the fuck on.
To him, a Luna is nothing more than a name beside an Alpha’s on a blood contract.
That’s why my mother left us because once she had me, my father never show him his attention
And if he had his way, I would be the same. But I’m not. I refuse to be. I am not my father.
“You have five months.”
Something hot and sharp lodges itself in my chest. “For what?”
“To find your Luna.”
anymore.
I exhale through my nose, slow, controlled. But inside–inside, my wolf is snarling. A growl builds in my throat, but I swallow it down. “You’re fucking kidding, right?”
My mighty father grins. That same cold, sharp smirk he wears when he knows he’s already won. “Since when did I not become serious about this, Grayson?” He shrugs, casual, like he didn’t just rip the ground out from under me. “Five months.” His voice is even. “Find your Luna, or I will find your replacement.” He shifts his glance to the picture on the frame and then he speaks the name that shouldn’t fucking matter. “Riot, perhaps.”
My claws slip out before I can stop them, pressing into the polished wood of his desk. I won’t let him give this pack–my pack to a fucking bastard. I won’t let some illegitimate afterthought carry my name, my legacy, my birthright but even as my wolf snarls inside me, even as the heat of my rage surges sharp and violent through my veins, I realize-
I have a bigger fucking problem because even if I can’t admit what’s happening to me–even if I refuse to say her name in this fucking office-
I already know.
Jessica Wilkinson is my mate, and she doesn’t even know about it. But in five months, when the next full moon rises- when her wolf finally awakens, when the bond between us fully snaps into place- I will claim her. I will sink my fangs into her throat. I will mark her. Make her mine.
I need to make her my Luna.
My very own trouble maker Luna.
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