Betrayed By My Mate, Mated To His Father

Alpha Dante's POV 

Three months ago

The steady tick of the purple grandfather clock on the wall cut through the room, each second falling into place with cruel precision and filling me with a sense of calm. It was familiar, and it reminded me that time kept moving no matter how badly I wanted it to stop—no matter how long I stayed desperately wanting something that would never be mine.

Brandon’s office felt like a controlled extension of his mind and smelled like ink, paper, and the sharp bite of Italian black coffee. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in muted sunlight, casting long shadows over the mahogany shelves lined with old books and carefully chosen artifacts that hinted at power, history, and restraint. A wide desk anchored the room, its surface mostly bare except for a single leather folder and a neatly placed pen.

My son sat behind his desk, shoulders tight, jaw set, eyes moving fast over his pack reports. Pride filled my heart.

I waited in silence, my foot tapping. My heart raced as I prayed for this meeting to be over soon, because she could walk in at any moment—and if she did, I knew I wouldn’t want to leave at all. The thought made my chest tighten with both dread and want.

My foot tapped even faster.

Then the door opened. Think of the devil and she shall appear. Except Taylor was not a devil. More like a honeysuckle-and-warm-butter-smelling, delectably built angel.

“Hey,” she said softly, peering her blonde head into the room.

One word. That was all it took.

My eyes lifted before my mind could stop them.

Taylor, my son’s mate and the bane of my existence, sashayed into the office to stand beside Brandon. She wore a tight little tank top and jean shorts, but with the figure she had, she might as well have been naked.

The chair I sat on creaked as I leaned forward, my fingers digging into my thighs.

Did she not realize how fucking tempting she was?

Did Brandon have no sense at all to be letting her walk around the pack like that?

Her perfectly perky C‑cup tits bounced as she shifted her body weight to her other hip.

She wasn’t wearing a fucking bra.

My lycan growled in my mind. She stiffened and stood up straighter.

A woman like her shouldn’t have been dressed like that.

She should have been wearing absolutely nothing, spending her nights and days with her sweet ass spread open, her hands curled into the sheets, her body yielding under… me.

Stop it, Dante. She’s not yours. She’s never going to be.

My lycan roared painfully inside me.

I looked back at her and noticed the flour smudge on her glowing cheek. I looked to her wrists and my suspicion was answered. I hadn’t even noticed that she was carrying a steaming pie.

“Hi, Alpha Dante,” she greeted politely. Always so fucking polite.

Her voice slid under my skin.

But I couldn’t talk to her.

I couldn’t let myself get that close to her.

I grunted in response.

I watched her face twist into a hateful scowl. There’s my little spitfire. My lips lifted a bit.

She swiveled her head and smiled brightly at Brandon.

“I brought you lunch,” she said. “Well—dessert. I tried the apple this time, so it’s not too sweet.”

Brandon finally looked up. The tension in his shoulders eased a little.

“You didn’t have to,” he said, smiling at her like she hung the stars in his sky.

A painful grip tightened around my heart.

“I wanted to,” she answered just as brightly.

The chair I sat on was directly facing Brandon’s, so I got a perfect view of her perfect face.

She bit her lip and shifted the glass container in her hands to the table, pushing aside a stack of papers. She reached up and brushed her shiny blonde hair away from her face.

I shoved the air out of my lungs.

It was almost time for her next haircut. Her side curls were a little long, covering her eyes and giving her an I just woke up look.

I loved them.

But I hated that they blocked my view of her sharp blue eyes.

Her tongue swiped across her plump bottom lip. I fought the urge to let out a groan.

I bent my head to glare at my lap.

Maybe if I focused, I could put myself out of this fucking blue‑ball misery.

Her eyes always looked so trusting and piercing, and… they reminded me of the first day I met her. Five years, three months, and five days ago. We were at a party and were introduced. She took one look at me, snickered, and asked if this was the great and mighty lycan.

Before I could stop myself, I brought my calloused palm up to her perfect, glowy cheek. She looked shocked and asked me what the hell I was doing. I couldn’t, for the life of me, come up with something to say. Instead, I kept my hand there and glared into her pretty eyes.

And she glared back.

And five years later, I still couldn’t get her out of my mind.

Even after she mated my son.

If I didn’t push her out of my brain soon, I was going to lose it.

Don’t you dare look back at her.

I looked anyway.

My body reacted before my mind finished the warning. I hated how little control I had over my body when it came to the curvy little vixen who had just turned twenty‑four three weeks ago—making her eighteen years my junior, too young for me—and my son’s mate.

I kept pressing down on my dick as she straightened.

And I pressed even harder when she glared at me again.

A sharp awareness that had no business being there spread across me. I shifted in my chair, crossing one leg over the other, adjusting my jacket like I needed more space.

Like that would help.

Good God.

I focused on the desk. The edge of it. The scratch near the corner Brandon never fixed. Anything to take my mind off the woman in front of me.

“Dad,” Brandon said. “Do you want some coffee?”

He didn’t look at me. He was watching her.

“No,” I said. “I’m fine.”

I wasn’t.

Taylor glared my way again. Her eyes didn’t linger. They never did.

She moved closer to Brandon’s desk, leaning in slightly and giving me an even better view of those creamy tits. I crossed my legs even harder. My dick jumped, knowing exactly what I was thinking about.

My teeth marking her perfect skin.

“You’ve been in here all morning,” she said. “You promised you’d eat.”

“I will.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

She raised a brow. Just one. A silent challenge.

He sighed. “After I finish with Dad.”

She nodded, then turned to leave.

I let my fingers grip my length, squeezing until she was by the door.

“Alpha Dante?”

Her voice pulled me back.

She stood near the door now, hand on the handle, looking at me with a perfect poker face while her eyes shot daggers at me.

“Yes?” I growled.

“Thank you for coming. Brandon worries when you don’t answer his calls.”

Her concern wasn’t sharp. It was accusing and challenging. Brandon sat up in his chair, ready to intervene.

“He’s an Alpha,” I said. “He can handle it.”

She smirked at my refusal to bite. “Well, maybe next time you could remember that he’s still your son.”

My skin bristled immediately. I straightened and ground my teeth.

She sashayed out before I could answer.

The door closed.

I stayed still, counting my breaths, waiting for my body to calm down. Grateful Brandon was already buried back in his work, too focused to notice me watching the door like she might come back.

The room felt smaller without her.

Brandon cleared his throat. “She’s actually the reason why I wanted to see you.”

I turned to cock my head at him.

His hands were flat on the desk. His eyes wouldn’t meet mine. Curiosity filled me.

“Talk,” I said.

He reached into a drawer and pulled out his phone. Then another folder.

“She’s cheating on me.”

The words landed like they’d been spoken in the wrong language.

I didn’t react. I didn’t move.

That’s not possible. She would never.

He slid the phone across the desk. On it were multiple pictures.

Taylor walking beside another man. Another of her too close to him at a café. Another of her laughing as he held her waist at a bar. Another shot of his hand on her arm.

I saw red.

My jaw tightened.

“When was this taken?” I asked.

“Over the past two months,” he said. “On different days and in different places.”

“Who took these?”

“My Beta.”

Of course.

I picked up the phone and scrolled slowly because I needed time to breathe.

She looked the same in every picture. Calm. Present. Not sneaking or hiding.

How could she?

“She doesn’t even look guilty,” I bit out.

Brandon’s head snapped up. “You think I don’t know that?”

Silence stretched between us.

“She comes home after she’s done,” he continued. “Looks me in the eye. Talks about the pack. About the future. About kids.”

Kids.

My chest tightened. My lycan wanted to rip off his head at the thought of him impregnating her.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said. His voice dropped into a heartbroken whisper. “I can’t ignore it anymore. The pack members already know, and they’re already gossiping about how weak I am for not being able to satisfy my own mate.”

I studied him quietly. My lycan refused to believe she could do something like this. There had to be some sort of explanation.

But I could not argue with the evidence in front of me.

“What do you want from me?” I asked.

“I want you to tell me what to do, Dad,” he said. “You know how much I love her. I can’t lose her.”

I looked at the pictures again. At her posture. The set of her shoulders. The way her body leaned away even when she smiled.

A knock echoed at the door.

Neither of us moved.

The smell of apple and cinnamon still hung in the air.

“I can’t continue to teach you how to run your life, Brandon,” I added. “You’re an adult now.”

Brandon rubbed his hand over his face. “But I don’t know what to do. That’s why I called you.”

I stood, adjusting my jacket again, putting distance between my thoughts and my body.

As I reached the door, I paused.

“Brandon,” I said.

He looked up.

“Whatever happens,” I continued, “I’ll support you anyway.”

I left the office with her scent still clinging to my lungs.

And the ache still burning in my chest.

That night, I poured the vodka straight, no ice.

It burned going down.

It was still not enough to get her out of my mind.