Ch. 81..85: Breed Me, Daddy Alpha chapter 81-85

Favorite Sin 81

~Damon~

I honestly didn’t expect to see this.

Not this early in the damn morning.

I was getting ready to head out. Had my mind already locked on the day’s business – pack meetings, a border patrol issue, some late shipments I needed to handle myself.

I was halfway through a black coffee, shirt undone, planning to take a quick call with one of the Elders when I heard that voice. Camilla’s voice.”

That sickly–sweet, high–pitched voice she used when she thought she still had control.

And then I heard Lyra’s voice.

Her voice.

Sharp. Defiant. Wet with rage and something else too. That shaken breath girls get when they’ve just been humiliated and don’t know whether to scream, cry, or throw a chair.

So I stopped. I didn’t care about the meeting anymore. I didn’t care about the shipment. I didn’t even care that my goddamn coffee was going cold on the marble.

I walked to the doorway.

And what I saw? It made something feral snap in me.

Lyra. Standing there in that tiny skirt, face flushed, chest rising and falling like she’d just run five miles. Holding herself tall. Fierce. Braver than I’d seen her yet. And Camilla – standing in front of her with that judgmental little smirk she’s always worn when she’s about to destroy something she secretly envies.

And I lost it. Quietly. Dangerously. Completely.

I said her name – just her name – and the whole room shifted.

Camilla froze. Lyra turned slightly, just enough for me to see her eyes, and f**k, she looked like she wanted to collapse and fly all at once. I saw the tension in her jaw. The heat behind her lashes. The way she was

shaking not from fear, but from fury she didn’t know how to unload.

And then Camilla opened her mouth.

Started that bullshit about thick thighs and little whores and husbands seeing too much ass. Talking like she hadn’t spent years popping pills while I cleaned up her mess. Talking like she still meant something here. Like she still had the right to talk about what I could and couldn’t see.

Like she didn’t know I’d already tasted the girl she was trying to shame.

I snapped the moment she lifted her hand.

She hadn’t even touched Lyra yet. Her arm was just halfway up, but that was all I needed to see. The second she moved with that venom in her eyes, I crossed the kitchen in three strides and slammed my hand on the damn counter.

“Don’t you f*****g dare touch her, Camilla.”

Do Not Call Me A Su

My voice boomed through the kitchen like thunder, Lyra didn’t even flinch. She stood her ground like a soldier, but I saw it. I saw the way her body tensed. I saw the way her breath caught in her throat. And I swear to God,

I almost lost it.

“What the f**k is wrong with you?” I roared, eyes locked on Camilla like she was prey. “Why the f**k are you still in my house?”

She didn’t even blink.

She had the audacity to fold her arms beneath her fake t**s and tilt her head like she was the injured party. Like she hadn’t just tried to slap a girl barely past eighteen who hadn’t said one thing that wasn’t deserved.

“You mean our house, Damon,” she spat, her words laced with syrup and venom. “And I’m not going

anywhere.”

This f*****g b***h.

I felt the rage boiling beneath my skin. My jaw clenched. My fists curled. And I swear I could hear the blood pounding in my ears like war drums..

“Why the f**k are you siding with her, Damon?” she screamed suddenly, stepping forward like she thought she still had a right to confront me.

“Why? Are you forgetting that I am your wife?! That this girl is just a fat, thick–ass kid with a rude mouth and no self–respect?!”

Her voice rose, ugly and raw, and then she jabbed a manicured finger toward Lyra.

“Look at her skirt! What is she even feeling like? Walking around this house like she owns it. Like she’s not just a slut in training.”

I was already moving.

But Lyra didn’t say a word. Didn’t cry. Didn’t cower. She just stood there, eyes burning, back straight, like she already knew I’d burn the whole world down for her.

“Just shut the f**k up, Camilla,” I snapped, stepping fully between them. My body now a wall, shielding Lyra from every ounce of Camilla’s bullshit. “Look at what you’re wearing. You want to talk about skirts and asses? You’re in this kitchen with your t**s hanging out, wearing shorts that could double as f*****g underwear, but you want to slut–shame her?”

Her eyes widened. She took a step back, shocked that I dared to speak to her like that. But I wasn’t finished. Not even close.

“I’m a grown–ass woman, Damon!” she yelled, her face flushed now with both rage and humiliation. “I can wear whatever the f**k I want!”

free pass to act like a bitter, washed–up mean “And so can she!” I roared back. “You think age gives you girl? You think your ‘grown–ass woman‘ status means you get to police what an eighteen–year–old wears or how she looks or who she f*****

g/talks to?”

She opened her mouth, but I kept going, my voice hard as stone, low and vicious enough to make the floor feel like it was shaking beneath us.

“She’s not the one who disappeared for nine months on a pill binge while I ran this house. She’s not the one with a f*****g addiction. She’s not the one who came crawling back after rehab with a fake smile and a

く

< Do Not Call Mer A Slutt

f*****g spray tan, expecting me to forget what you did.”

Camilla gasped, clutching her chest like I’d stabbed her, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

“You want to talk about disrespect?” I growled. “You lost the right to speak about respect when you let this entire family fall apart while you played victim in every damn spa and clinic across the state”

She shook her head, eyes watery now, but I didn’t feel sorry for her.

I felt rage.

Because Lyra hadn’t done a goddamn thing wrong. Because Camilla walked back in here thinking she still owned me. Thinking she could piss on the territory I’d already marked.

“I’m warning you, Camilla,” I said slowly, my voice deadly calm now. “If you ever raise your hand to her again- if you so much as breathe wrong around her–I will personally drag your ass out of this house and make sure you never step foot inside it again.”

“She’s just a girl, Damon,” she whispered, like it was the final blow. “You’re old enough to be her father.”

And maybe I was. But that didn’t f*****g matter.

I turned to glance at Lyra then, and just seeing her–flushed, strong, raw, beautiful–was enough to steady every part of me.

“She’s not just a girl Camilla. She is ‘MINE“”

“What the hell, Damon,” Camilla hissed again, her voice cracking under the weight of whatever ugly emotion was rising in her chest. “What is it? Because she’s a wolf like you? Is that it? And I’m just a human, huh? That’s why you’re treating me like trash.

She stepped closer, like proximity would make her words hit harder, like standing in front of me would force me to see something that wasn’t f*****g there.

“Tell me!” she shouted, eyes wild now. “Why are you supporting this child?! Why are you defending her like she’s your equal–like she f*****g matters more than I do?!”

Before I could answer, Lyra took a step forward. Her entire body was coiled tight with rage, fists clenched at her sides, eyes locked on Camilla like she was ready to lunge.

“Call me a child one more time, b***h, and I’ll—”

“Lyra,” I said sharply, grabbing her arm and holding her back, firm but calm, my voice cutting through her fury like ice against flame. “Don’t.”

Her lips trembled with the words she wanted to say, but she held them in, barely, because I asked her to. Because she listened to me.

I turned my attention back to Camilla.

“This isn’t about wolves and humans,” I said slowly, deliberately, each word soaked in warning. “This isn’t about biology. This isn’t about species. This is about the fact that you walked into my house, insulted a guest, raised your hand to her like a bully in a middle school hallway, and expected me to applaud you for it.”

She opened her mouth, but I raised a hand to stop her. I wasn’t done.

“And I don’t give a f**k what you are. Human, wolf, or something in between. You don’t get to slut–shame her just because you’re miserable. You don’t get to talk about her curves, her skirt, her mouth, or her body like

< Do Not Call Mer A Slut

you didn’t just come down those stairs dressed like a porn parody of a housewife”

Her face twisted, eyes glassy with a mix of anger and humiliation. She tried to scoff, tried to roll her eyes, but

I didn’t let up.

“You want to talk about appearances?” I said, stepping forward now, lowering my voice.

“Let’s talk about appearances, Camilla. Let’s talk about how you spent thousands of dollars on surgery just to end up looking like a second–rate version of your old self.

“Let’s talk about how even after rehab, even after the facials and the tummy tucks and the lipo, you still walk into a room and look at every younger, prettier woman like she’s a f*****g threat.”

She gasped like I’d slapped her. Her hand flew to her mouth, but I wasn’t finished.

“You’re jealous,” I said, no longer yelling, no longer angry–just stating a fact so raw it sucked the air out of the room. “That’s what this is. You’re not upset that she’s a girl. You’re upset that even after all the work you’ve done on your body, she still has more curves than you.

“You’re upset that I look at her the way I haven’t looked at you in years. You’re upset that someone young and untouched and full of life walked into your old territory and took the air right out of your lungs.”

Camilla staggered back a step. Her chest heaved. Her mascara had started to run. And for the first time since this argument began, she didn’t have a comeback.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice so only she could hear.

“I know what you’re trying to do, Camilla,” I said, my voice low, steady, and sharp enough to slice through the tension choking the air between us. “And it won’t f*****g work.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t deny it. Of course she didn’t. She knew what I meant.

“I won’t f**k you.”

Her mouth snapped shut.

“Not now. Not ever.”

And with that, I turned away from her.

Lyra was still standing there, shoulders tense, arms crossed tightly across her chest like she was barely holding herself together. I reached for her again, this time slower, softer. My hand on her waist. My fingers brushing her skin. My voice gentler now, just for her.

“Go wait in the car, kitten,” I said, my mouth close to her ear. “I’ll handle the rest.”

 

Favorite Sin 82

-Lyra-

Oh damn.

f**k.

My Damon,

I love that he defended me in front of that b***h. I love it so much I might actually cry. Or scream. Or crawl under the table and hump the air just thinking about it.

Gosh, the way he stood in front of me, towering like a whole wall of sin and testosterone, voice calm but lethal, looking like he could throw her out the window and then bend me over the counter before she even hit the ground–God. I think I just fell in love with him all over again.

And yes. I said my Damon. Because I don’t care what anyone says, not even that dusty–ass, bleached–blonde ex–wife with the $20,000 ass and $3 personality.

He is mine. Mine in the way his voice dropped when he told her off. Mine in the way he touched me after, like I was delicate and dangerous at the same time. Mine in the way he kissed my temple like I was a goddamn reward for surviving the storm.

He looked so hot doing it too. Like full–on, ruin–my–life, blow–my–back–out, eat–my–soul–with–a–fork hot. I might just think about giving him a blow job in the car before he drops me off at school. I mean, as a thank–you. A ” thank you for almost ripping your ex’s head off for calling me a child” type of gesture. It’s the polite thing to do, right? Like baking cookies. But sluttier.

And who the f**k knew that b***h was human? Like, seriously. What a plot twist. If someone had told me yesterday, I would not have believed it. I still can’t get over that–was just a regular human and not some elegant, immortal vampire queen or a psycho Alpha female with claws and fangs, I would’ve laughed. Or maybe gagged. Because she walks around like the world owes her a spotlight. Like she invented s*x. Like she isn’t just some collagen–filled, rehab–returning, soul–sucking she–devil who thought her flat ass and fake smile could intimidate me.

Nope. Not today, Satan.

And honestly? If she isn’t careful, I might rip her apart in my wolf form. No jokes. No games. If she tries that slut–shaming, slap–threatening, skirt–policing crap again, I swear on every last inch of Damon’s d**k that I will shift right in front of her and rip her botoxed lip off with my canines.

Because what she did wasn’t just rude. It wasn’t just bitchy or jealous or pathetic. It was dangerous. That woman tried to hit me. She raised her hand like I was some street rat and she was the queen of the palace, and it was only Damon stepping in that stopped her from leaving this kitchen with a f*****g broken wrist. And I know, I know, I should be calm right now. I should be heading to school with my bag and my books and my teenage dignity intact. But instead I’m walking to the car, still tasting adrenaline, still dripping in leftover slick from the night before, still mentally replaying the way Damon said, “She’s not just a girl. She’s mine.”

Oh my God.

He said that,

Damon’s Out

He really said that in front of her. Like I was his property. His possession. His favorite toy. And I know I should

be worried about how f****d up that sounds, but honestly? I’m not. Not even a little. Because the way he claimed me wasn’t just sexy–it was real. It was honest. It was everything I wanted someone to say. He didn’t just defend me. He chose me. Out loud. In front of his past.

And that matters.

That makes all the difference.

So now I’m sitting in the car, legs pressed together because if I spread them even an inch I might start leaking again. My skirt’s already tight. My thighs are sore. My underwear’s barely holding on. And my brain is still spinning like, Damon just verbally castrated his ex–wife for me, and I have to go to school like a normal human being after that?

f**k no.

I don’t even know what subject I have first. I don’t care. All I know is that if Damon so much as looks at me in the rearview mirror on the way there with that deep, broody, possessive stare, I will unbuckle my seatbelt, crawl across the console, and make sure he never forgets this morning for the rest of his life.

Because I’m not just a girl.

I’m his girl.

And everyone better get used to it.

The second I spotted him stepping out of the house and walking toward the car, I swear my whole body lit up like a f*****g Christmas tree.

My breath caught. My thighs squeezed together. My hands got all fidgety like I was about to do something illegal. And to be fair–I kinda was.

He looked too good. Way too good. Broad chest. That dark shirt straining over his biceps. His jaw clenched just enough to make me imagine it grinding between my legs again.

The way he walked–confident, big, slow strides like he owned the earth and was just being merciful enough to let it spin. And when he reached the car, opened the door, and stepped inside, locking it behind him like we were sealing ourselves into our own little sin chamber?

I knew I was going to be on my knees before we reached the stop sign.

He looked at me immediately. Not the road. Not his phone. Me.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and tight like he was still pissed. “Did she hurt you?”

“No, Daddy,” I said softly, biting my lip a little, because I couldn’t help it. His eyes darkened. His fingers

twitched near the steering wheel like he wanted to grab something. Probably me.

He looked me over, and then he groaned. Loud and deep. Like I was the problem. Like the fact that I was still breathing next to him in this skirt was a threat to national security.

“Damn,” he muttered, smirking “She wasn’t lying. This skirt is deadly.”

I smiled, innocent as pie, even though I was sitting there without panties and still tasting him in the back of

my throat from last night.

Damon’s Gul

Then he squinted at me like something just clicked.

“Hold up. You’re going to school like this?” he asked, voice rough, a little louder now. “If any boy so much as looks at you… of breathes near you… or thinks about talking to you tell him I’m going to rip his ng eyes

out.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, grinning now because I loved it. I loved the way he said it. I loved the way he looked at me like I was his little problem and also his favorite f*****g thing in the world.

“Hmmm,” he growled, dragging his eyes over me like he was trying to figure out what was real and what was just his dirty imagination. “You’re calling me Daddy. You naughty little girl. What’s going on in that filthy head of yours, huh?”

I blinked up at him with my best innocent smile, heart pounding, lips curling just enough to tease.

“Nothing, Daddy,” I said sweetly. “I just wanted to give you a little something… a thank you. For defending me. For being the only man who’s ever made me feel like I’m worth fighting for.”

And before he could say another word, I was moving.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and slid toward him, slowly, deliberately, my skirt riding up higher with every inch. His eyes dropped immediately. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. His chest stopped moving like he forgot how to breathe.

I crawled right into his space, leaned over the console, and whispered in his ear, “Let me make it up to you.”

He turned his head to look down at me, his hand already moving to adjust the seat backward. His smirk was pure filth now, eyes narrowed, voice thick with hunger.

“What are you doing, you naughty little girl?”

Favorite Sin 83

~Lyra~

“What are you doing, you naughty ass little girl… f**k,” he growled, and the sound of it made my whole body clench. His voice dropped to that dangerous level again, the one that made me forget my name, my age, my responsibilities, and every rule in the universe.

He looked down at me like I had just turned into his favorite addiction. His hand moved to adjust the seat back, his legs spreading slightly, and I could tell–he was already hard. Already ready for me. And we hadn’t even left the driveway.

I looked up at him with the sweetest, most innocent expression I could fake, even though my mouth was watering and my p***y was already twitching from anticipation.

My skirt had slid up just a little from how I shated in my seat, and I knew he could see the tops of my thighs and maybe just a glimpse of how not innocent I actually was. I didn’t care. I wanted him to see. I wanted him

to break.

“I told you,” I said softly, my fingers already moving toward the waistband of his pants. “I just want to thank

you, Daddy.”

The second I said it again, he groaned. His jaw clenched so tight I thought it might snap. His eyes dropped to my mouth, then to my hands, and then right back to my eyes like he was trying to decide whether to pull me

into his lap or rip the seat out entirely.

His voice came out low and rough. “You think you can just crawl over here and suck my c**k like a thank–you

and get away with it?”

I smiled up at him like the smug little w***e I am. “Yes, Daddy. That’s exactly what I think.”

His hand slid into my hair. Not hard. Not rough. Just enough to let me know that the second I opened my

mouth, he was going to take it from me.

“You’re out of your mind,” he said, even as he leaned his head back against the seat, eyes burning into mine.”

But go ahead. Be a good girl. Thank me.”

I moved closer, my heart pounding so fast it felt like it was going to explode. My hands worked fast- unbuckling his belt, pulling down the zipper, freeing him from his pants–and when I wrapped my fingers

around his c**k, I felt it twitch in my hand like it had been waiting for my touch. It was so hot and thick and ready, my mouth watered all over again.

I leaned down and licked the tip, slow and soft, just to tease him. I could feel his muscles tighten. His grip on

my hair twitched. His breath caught in his throat.

“f**k, Lyra,” he hissed. “You’re going to make me crash this f*****g car before we even leave.”

I looked up at him, eyes wide and glassy and needy, and whispered, “Then don’t drive. Just sit back and let

me ruin you.”

He didn’t argue.

I took him into my mouth, inch by inch, letting the warmth of him fill my throat, my lips stretched wide as I sucked him deep. His groan shook through his entire chest.

Daddy’s Property

His hand pressed against the back of my head. He didn’t force me–he didn’t need to. I wanted it. I wanted every inch. I wanted him to feel how much I needed to please him.

I used every inch of my tongue as I dragged it along his c**k with deliberate pressure. I wanted to tease him, make him twitch, make him curse under his breath like he had no control left.

I could feel how hard he was pulsing in my mouth, thick and hot and already leaking, and that just made

me hungrier. My spit started to coat him, dripping down my chin and onto my fingers as I held the base, keeping him steady while I sucked him in deeper.

I moaned around him, not just because it felt good–but because I wanted him to feel it. I wanted my mouth to vibrate around his c**k, to make him groan and grip the seat and tilt his head back with his eyes shut like

I was the best f*****g thing that had ever touched him. And I knew I was. I could tell by the way he cursed again, low and strained, one hand tightening in my hair as the other flexed against the leather of his seat.

“Just like that,” he growled, voice wrecked. “f**k, you’re so good at this. You’re going to make me c*m before I‘ even get the car started.”

His words made me moan again, louder this time. I sucked harder, moved faster, letting my lips slide up and down his length in smooth, filthy rhythm. I pulled back just to lick the tip, circling it with my tongue, tasting him, teasing him, then took him deep again until he hit the back of my throat.

His hips jerked, and he growled my name like he was about to lose it.

“Lyra, f**k, slow down–unless you want me to c*m in that sweet little mouth right now.”

I looked up at him, eyes wet and wide, and pulled off slowly, dragging my lips up the length of his shaft with one last moan. I held his c**k in my hand and whispered, “I do, Daddy. I want you to c*m in my mouth. I want

to taste all of it. Please.”

His head hit the back of the seat. His eyes slammed shut. His chest was rising and falling like he was about

to lose it completely. And I didn’t wait.

I wrapped my lips around him again and sucked him fast and deep, no teasing this time. Just full–on, messy, desperate, needy. My spit was everywhere. My mascara was probably halfway down my cheeks. And I didn’t care. I wanted to choke on him. I wanted to feel his c*m hit my throat and slide down like something I was

made to swallow.

He cursed again–louder now. His hand tightened in my hair, holding me still, his hips starting to buck just slightly as he lost control.

And then he growled it.

“Take it, baby. f**k, take it–take all of it-”

He exploded in my mouth with a deep, broken groan, and I swallowed him down, every drop, not stopping even when he twitched. I kept sucking, slow now, gentle, cleaning him up with my tongue like the obedient

little slut I had become for him. I licked the tip one last time, kissed the base, then looked up at him with spit on my chin and the dirtiest, proudest grin on my face.

He stared down at me like I was unreal.

And then he laughed, dark and wrecked, shaking his head as he reached for my face.

“Get your ass in the passenger seat,” he said, his voice still raspy. “Because if you keep looking at me like

< Daddy’s Property

that, I swear I’ll f**k you again and you’ll miss first, second, and third period.”

And honestly?

I kinda wanted to.

I wanted to crawl right back into his lap, straddle him like the dirty little w***e I was becoming for him, and let him f**k me right there in the front seat like the entire neighborhood didn’t exist.

I wanted to slide down on that thick, still–twitching c**k and moan so loud the windows rattled. I didn’t care if someone walked by. I didn’t care if the car shook or if I missed school or if I ended up going to hell for this. All I knew was that I had just swallowed his c*m like it was mine to claim, and I wasn’t done yet.

I wanted his hands on my ass, gripping it so tight I bruised. I wanted him to shove my skirt up and call me his dirty little schoolgirl while he bounced me on his lap and told me how proud he was of my filthy mouth. I wanted his fingers in my hair, his lips on my neck, his breath in my ear as he told me not to stop, not to slow down, not until I was full again.

I wanted to grind on him like I was losing my mind. I wanted to make him c*m again and again and again until he couldn’t think straight, until he forgot where he was supposed to drop me off, until all he knew was the sound of my soaked cunt squelching around him and the way I kept moaning Daddy like it was my f*****g religion.

But instead, I sat back in my seat. I wiped my mouth slowly, licking the edge of my thumb like I was tasting frosting, and then pulled my skirt down–not that it helped. It still barely covered my thighs, and now that I’d

been on my knees gagging on c**k and drooling on his lap, it felt even shorter. My thighs were sticky. My lips

were swollen. My throat was raw. And I felt amazing.

He fixed his belt with one hand, started the car with the other, and acted like he hadn’t just come down my

throat so hard his eyes rolled back.

He looked at me once, that little smirk pulling at his mouth, and said, “You good?”

I turned my head, still catching my breath, and nodded. “So good.”

He chuckled under his breath, that deep rumble that always made my belly clench. “You’re trouble, you know

that?”

I grinned, resting back in my seat with my thighs still pressed tight together to keep from making a mess.”

Only for you, Daddy.”

He shook his head, but the way he looked at me was pure fire. Possessive. Dangerous. Like he already had

plans for what he was going to do to me the second the school bell rang and I was his again.

And God, I hoped he did.

Because I wasn’t just some eighteen–year–old girl anymore. I wasn’t just the best friend’s daughter. I wasn’t

just a quick f**k or a one–time mistake.

I was his.

His to use. His to protect. His to wreck. His to own.

And I never wanted to be anything else.

 

Favorite Sin 84

~Lyra~

We pulled up in front of the school, but I didn’t move.

The car was still running. My chest was still tight. And even though the sun was up and teenagers were filing through the gates with backpacks and half–finished homework, I was still sitting here, thighs pressed together, mouth sore, and brain foggy from everything he made me feel.

I couldn’t stop thinking about what Camilla had said. Not just the insults. Not just the jealousy. But that one line-“I’m human.”

I turned toward him slowly.

“Damon,” I said quietly, the word still sticky on my lips after everything we’d done, “Camilla said she was

human. What does that mean?”

He didn’t answer right away. He stared straight ahead, his jaw locked, his hand still on the wheel like he was forcing himself to stay calm. I could see the way his chest moved–slow breaths like he was preparing to rip open a chapter of his past that he probably hadn’t told anyone.

“What does it mean?” I asked again, softer now. “That she’s human?”

He exhaled through his nose, turned his head toward me, and looked at me like the truth had always been

heavy but never quite this real.

“It means,” he said slowly, voice like gravel and fire, “that she was never supposed to be mine.”

The words hit me like a slap and a kiss at the same time.

“I waited years for a mate,” he continued, and now his voice was steady. Deep. Raw. Honest. “I waited until I

was almost twenty–five. Every Alpha feels it–this pull, this hunger, this ache in your bones that doesn’t make sense until you see her. Smell her. Touch her. And every year that passed without it, I got colder. Meaner. Harder. My father kept saying maybe my mate died young. That sometimes the bond just… doesn’t come.”

I swallowed, listening like every word was being engraved in me.

“I didn’t want to marry just anyone,” he said. “I knew I wasn’t built for softness. I would destroy a girl who

didn’t know how to handle me. So my father made me a deal. He had a human friend–a man he trusted with

his life. That man had a daughter. That was Camilla. A human. Smart. Obedient. Pretty in the way humans

are sometimes. My father said it would settle the rumors. Calm the pack. Give me someone to stand beside

me.”

He turned fully now, one arm slung across the back of my seat, his eyes dragging over medike he couldn’t

stop himself.

“But what I didn’t know,” he said slowly, like every word was burning his throat, “was that my maje would be my daughter’s best friend.”

I blinked. My throat closed. My heart slammed against my ribs like it wanted to jump into his hands.

“I saw you that first day. You were so young. I knew I had to wait” he continued, and now his voice was shifting–lower, hotter, drenched in heat. “I smelled you before I even walked into the room. I felt you before I

The Alpha’s Mate

even saw you. And when I laid eyes on you, I knew. I f*****g knew. You were too young. Off–limits. Completely forbidden. But it didn’t matter. My instincts didn’t care.”

He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, then let his fingers trail down the side of my neck. His touch was gentle, but the look in his eyes was anything but.

“I tried to stay away. I tried to bury it. I told myself it was just lust. Just the Omega scent. But then you looked at me with those eyes. You smiled at me like you didn’t even know how dangerous I was. You walked around my house in those tiny little shorts. You left your scent everywhere. And I lost my f*****g mind.”

I couldn’t breathe. My whole body was on fire just from hearing him talk.

“You don’t understand what it’s like for someone like me,” he said, voice rougher now, almost shaking. “To find a mate after so long. To finally feel that pull… and have it be you. A girl I was supposed to protect. Supposed to ignore. Supposed to hand off to someone younger, safer, dumber.”

He shook his head, eyes now locked on my thighs, his pupils blown wide with need.

“But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop imagining how tight you’d feel wrapped around my c**k. I couldn’t stop

smelling your heat. I couldn’t stop hearing you moan in my f*****g dreams. You don’t know what you’ve done

to me, Lyra. You’ve ruined every ounce of control I’ve ever had”

My breath hitched.

He leaned in closer, one hand resting on my thigh, slowly sliding upward until his palm was pressed firmly

just below the hem of my skirt.

“And then when I finally had you…” he murmured. “When I finally tasted you, f****d you, felt you pulsing

around me and begging for more… I knew I could never go back. Camilla was a mistake. A placeholder. A

distraction. You? You’re mine. My mate. My obsession. My Omega. My dirty little secret that I’m never giving

back.”

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.

My body was already trembling again.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

“You were made for me,” he whispered. “And I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving that.”

And I swear, right then, I nearly came.

“f**k… that’s so hot,” I breathed, thighs clenching hard under my skirt. “I wanna f**k you right now. I don’t care

if we’re in the parking lot. I want you to bend me over the dashboard and make me scream your name in front

of the whole damn school.”

His hand squeezed my thigh, his breath hitched, but then he leaned back slowly and gave me that smirk- that Daddy knows best smirk that made me want to bite him and beg him in the same breath.

“Nope,” he said, voice firm now. “You’ve already made me c*m once today, you little menace. You’re going to

school.”

I groaned. “But-”

He held up a finger, eyes sharp. “No buts. You’re going. And I repeat–do not let any boy touch you. Don’t let them look at you. Don’t let them breathe near you. I don’t care if it’s a handshake, a brush in the hallway, or

The Alpha’s Mate

some dumbass offering to carry your books–if any one of those boys lays a f*****g finger on you, I swear to God, Lyra, I will rip his f*****g hands off and make him eat them.”

My mouth dropped open.

He wasn’t kidding.

He looked like he was already imagining it–blood, violence, total destruction–just because someone might

flirt with me by the lockers.

“Don’t play with those young boys,” he warned, voice dropping even lower. “They’re not men. They don’t know what to do with something like you. They’ll try to joke with you, sit beside you, maybe slide into your messages, and you might think it’s harmless–but it’s not. Because they don’t know you belong to someone. They don’t know you’ve already been f****d raw and ruined.”

He leaned in close again, eyes burning.

“They don’t know what I’m capable of doing if anyone touches what’s mine.”

My whole body froze.

Because he meant it.

Every single word.

His voice dropped even lower, full of that slow, dangerous calm that made every hair on my body stand up. His hand was still on my thigh, fingers warm and firm like they were warning me to behave–or else.

“I’ve killed for less,” he said, staring at me like he wanted to burn the whole f*****

g world down just to keep me untouched. “Don’t mistake my silence for softness. I might let you walk through those school doors, but that doesn’t mean you’re free. You’re still under me, under my rules, under my control. And I’m not sharing

you. Not now. Not ever.”

I swallowed hard, heart pounding so loud I couldn’t even hear the school bell in the distance anymore.

“You hear me, kitten?” he said, dragging the back of his knuckles along my jaw in that slow, possessive way that made my whole body shiver. “You belong to me. Every look you give, every step you take, every smile, every f*****g moan–it’s mine. You get through this day, and then you come right back to me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, my legs barely holding steady now.

He finally leaned back, satisfied, smirked like the devil, and nodded toward the door.

“Go on,” he said. “Before I change my mind and f**k you so hard you forget the way to your classroom.”

I rolled my eyes with a grin, pushed the door open with weak knees, and grabbed my bag.

“Bye, Damon,” I said as sweetly as I could, trying not to show just how badly I wanted to climb back into his

lap and ride him until my voice broke.

“Be good,” he called after me. “And remember what I said.”

d to focus,

I waved once without looking back and joined the sea of students already heading inside really, I did. But the second I stepped through those school gates, it all hit me at once. The hallway. The noise. The backpacks. The squeaky sneakers. The girls whispering. The guys already eyeing me.

But I kept walking, head high, heart still pounding from Daddy’s words.

The Alpha’s Mate

I was just about to turn the corner and head to my first class when bam–I walked straight into a wall of

muscle.

I staggered backward instantly.

“What the f**k?” I snapped, rubbing my shoulder. “Watch where you’re-”

And then he turned around.

Smiling.

All teeth.

Arrogant.

And familiar.

“Oh hi, Omega. You’re not on heat today“he said, like we were best friends. Like we had some unfinished

conversation.

My heart dropped into my stomach.

The f**k?

No.

No, no, no.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

The same boy from that damn party.

The one me and Tasha went to.

The one where she left me to go have a full–blown orgy.

What the actual f**k is he doing here?

Favorite Sin 85

~Lyra~

I blinked so hard I nearly knocked my contact lens out, and I swear for a second, I forgot how to f*****g

breathe. Because no. No.

There was no way. There was no damn way the universe had the audacity, the absolute f**k–you nerve to put him in my path again, not after everything that happened, not after that party, not after Damon literally threatened to dismember anyone who looked at me too long. I mean, what the actual hell?

This boy, this walking red flag of s*x and danger and smug grins, was standing right in front of me in the same damn uniform as me, like this was some kind of joke.

Like the universe thought it’d be funny to drop him in my school like a grenade inside a pencil case. And oh

my God, he was smiling.

The same f*****g smile. The one he gave me right before he leaned in that night and sniffed me like I was a

hot plate of jollof rice. What kind of psycho does that? Who does that at a party?

And now?

Now he had the audacity–the unholy confidence–to look at me like we were friends. Like we had history. Like

he knew things about me.

And now he was here.

In my school.

“Oh hi, Omega. You’re not on heat today.”

That’s what he said.

That’s literally what he said to me.

In the hallway.

At 8:17 a.m.

While other students were still drinking Milo and arguing over who stole whose pen.

I stared at him like he’d grown two heads. Or like one of them was already halfway between my legs. Because

what kind of psychopath says something like that so casually?

Like, bro. Be f*****g serious. I just got out of Damon’s car ten seconds ago with my thighs still shaking and my insides basically saying thank you, Daddy, and now you want to pull up and sniff my hormone levels in

the hallway?

“Do I look like I’m on heat?” I hissed, crossing my arms and backing up slightly even though my treacherous body was not getting the memo that we hate this boy. No, my body was out here tingling and pulsing and warming up like it wanted a second round of chaos. b***h. Calm down.

He just grinned like he could hear my thoughts. Like he knew what I was feeling. And that only pissed me off

more.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded, voice a little too loud, because a few heads turned.

< The Unexpected Encounter

But I didn’t care. I had bigger problems than reputation management. I had a hot menace standing in front of me with the kind of swagger that made lockers feel like cages and hallways feel like hunting grounds.

He shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets like he hadn’t just turned my entire world into a slow–burn

porno.

“I transferred,” he said simply. “New school. New prey.”

Oh.

Hell.

No.

I felt the blood rush to my face so fast I thought I might pass out, because who the f**k says prey? Who uses predator language before first period? What kind of villain origin story was I trapped in?

“This is a school,” I snapped, jabbing a finger into his stupid, broad chest. “Not a f*****g hunting ground. So go be creepy somewhere else.”

His eyes dropped to my finger. Then to my lips. Then to my chest. And I swear he licked his bottom lip like i

was a f*****g dessert.

“I like it when you talk like that,” he murmured. “All bossy. All bark. I wonder if you bite.”

I choked.

Not literally. But almost. Because that voice? That voice? It was sin dipped in chocolate and sprinkled with

audacity.

“You’re disgusting,” I muttered, turning to leave because I could already feel the heat crawling up the back of my neck and if I stayed one more second I was going to say something I’d regret–or worse, something I’d

moan.

But he didn’t let me walk away. Of course not. Because this boy was a certified problem. A chaotic, sexy, terrible problem.

“What’s wrong, Omega?” he called after me, voice low and lazy. “Your Alpha didn’t f**k the brat out of you this

morning?”

I stopped walking.

spun around on my heel so fast I almost tripped, marched back up to him like I was about to throw hands- and maybe I was–but then he leaned down slightly, smirked again, and whispered:

“You smell like him.”

I blinked.

“What?” I breathed.

“Your scent,” he murmured. “It’s not clean. It’s not pure anymore. You reek of Alpha c*m

He said it like it was a compliment. Like I should be proud of it. And the worst part? Th My body reacted to it. My skin got hotter.

solute worst part?

I opened my mouth to tell him to f**k off, to remind him I had a whole Alpha Daddy who could snap his neck like a pencil and not even flinch–but he didn’t let me. Of course he didn’t. Because apparently this boy was

P

The Unexpected Encounter

allergic to boundaries and full of sin.

“You’ve been f****d,” he went on, voice lower now, crueler, like he wanted to carve the truth into me with every word. “And not just once. No, I can smell it on you. He’s been inside you more than once. He’s filled you up Claimed you. Knot or no knot, doesn’t matter. Your body belongs to him now. And yet-”

He leaned in close, way too close, and my back hit the locker behind me with a soft thud. His eyes dragged down my body, slow and smug and invasive, until they landed right where they shouldn’t–just beneath the

hem of my skirt.

“-you’re still walking around like a brat who doesn’t know she needs to be leashed.”

I gasped so loud I swore the whole hallway heard me, but nobody was looking. Nobody cared. The students kept walking, chattering, slamming lockers, gossiping about assignments and lunch, and here I was, being verbally assaulted by a hot demon in uniform.

“Get away from me,” I hissed, but it came out more breathless than threatening, and his grin told me he knew

it.

“f**k, you got thicker,” he murmured, his voice so casual, so full of hunger, like he was talking about a meal he couldn’t wait to eat. “That Alpha’s been feeding you right, huh? Pumping you full of c*m and stuffing you

with breakfast in bed?”

His hand moved before I could stop it.

Down.

Over the curve of my hip. Across the outer edge of my thigh.

And then lower.

“Don’t touch me!” I snapped, shoving his chest, but his other arm snaked around my waist like a f*****g trap, and then we were moving–he dragged me, dragged me, across the hallway and into the shadowy corner between the janitor’s closet and the vending machine.

It was half–hidden. Dark. Forgotten. Like it was made for secrets and sin. And oh God, the second we stopped moving, his eyes dropped to my thighs again.

“You shouldn’t wear skirts this short if you don’t want people staring,” he whispered, brushing his knuckles along my bare thigh like it was nothing. Like he had the right. “But maybe you

My breath came out in a sharp, panicked burst. I tried to speak, but it just turned into a squeak. A full–on Omega squeak, and I hated myself for it.

His hand moved higher.

“Let me go,” I said through clenched teeth, trying to shove him again, but he was too strong, and my stupid body wasn’t cooperating. My thighs were shaking. My knees were weak. And worst of all–my core was getting wet. Wet. In the middle of school. In a hallway. With this boy touching me like he had no f*****g

shame.

I opened my mouth to yell–really yell–but his hand slapped over my mouth so fast I di coming.

even see it

“Shhh,” he murmured, voice dark now. Dangerous. But not loud. Not panicked. Like he’d done this before. Like this was just routine. “You don’t want Daddy hearing, do you? You don’t want him storming in here, sniffing

The Unexpected Encounter

the air, and finding out some little punk made his Omega wet in the middle of the hallway?

I froze.

Because holy s**t..

He was right.

Damon would smell it. If he came near this corridor, if he caught even a whiff of my heat or arousal or distress, he’d come charging in like a f*****g wolf possessed. And it wouldn’t be a warning. It wouldn’t be a

threat. It would be blood and broken bones and a whole–ass murder scene.

I shook my head against his palm, and his smirk widened.

“Good girl,” he purred, his fingers still tracing that line down my thigh, getting closer and closer to the edge of my panties, and I couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn’t believe I was letting this happen. My mind was screaming, begging me to move, to run, to bite him or knee him or do something. But I wasn’t strong enough for him.

“You smell so f*****g good,” he whispered, bending down now, nose brushing the side of my neck. “I could taste you right now. I could bend you over this vending machine, pull your panties to the side, and f**k you so good you’d forget how to spell your name.”

A whimper slipped out against his palm.

Goddamn it.

I whimpered.

Me.

“You want me to stop?” he asked softly, fingers now dancing just under the edge of my skirt, barely touching

the inside of my thigh.

I nodded fast, but my hips betrayed me and tilted slightly forward.

“Liar,” he whispered, pressing a kiss–an actual kiss–to the side of my jaw. “You like being cornered. You like being hunted. You like knowing someone’s watching you, needing you, wanting to ruin every inch of you.

“Shut the f**k up!” I hissed, heart racing, face burning. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again. You don’t know me. You don’t own me. I don’t care what you think you smell or how much f*****g Alpha c**k you think I’ve had–I am not yours, you sick f*****g freak.”

He froze.

For just a second.

Like I’d short–circuited him. Like the slap hadn’t just bruised his face–it had bruised his f*****g ego.

Then slowly, slowly, he turned back toward me.

His cheek was red. His jaw was flexing. And his eyes–those cocky, infuriating eyes–were no longer amused. They were dark now. Shadowed.

“Oh, baby,” he said low, voice like gravel dragged through a storm. “You are gonna regret that.”

My stomach dropped.

My breath caught.

< The Unexpected Encounter

Because the way he said it?

It wasn’t a threat.

It was a promise.

337

He stepped forward, just one step, and I backed up immediately–but there was nowhere left to go. My spine

hit the wall again, and for the first time since this whole stupid morning started, I actually felt scared.

Not just turned on.

Not just annoyed.

Not just horny.

But scared.

Because he was smiling again.

Not that cute little smirk from earlier. Not the arrogant “I want to f**k you in front of the vending machine”

smile.

No.

This smile was darker. Sharper