Blackwood’s Claimed Luna

The door to the office of the Nightfall Pack’s Alpha Heir stood before me like a challenge.

I did not knock.

Father always said hesitation was the first crack in competence. I was Aurelia Sinclair, daughter of the Crescent Ridge Pack’s greatest hunter and Alpha, trained since childhood to walk into danger without flinching. A closed door was nothing.

My fingers wrapped around the brass handle. Cool metal. Solid. I pushed.

The scene inside slammed into me like a physical blow.

Lucian Blackwood had the woman bent over his desk.

Her dress was bunched around her waist, expensive silk crumpled like discarded tissue. His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into bare flesh hard enough to leave marks. The sharp crack of skin meeting skin echoed through the room. She moaned, a throaty, desperate sound.

“Harder,” she gasped. “Please, Alpha.”

My body froze. Brain struggling to process. This was the legendary playboy heir I’d been warned about, the man I was supposed to report to, the future leader of the most powerful pack in the northern territories.

He was buried deep inside her, his dress shirt hanging open to reveal a chest carved from stone and sin. Every muscle moved with predatory grace as he drove into her. Sweat gleamed on his golden skin. His dark hair fell across his forehead in a way looked disheveled and perfect at once.

The woman’s fingers scrabbled at the polished wood surface, knocking papers to the floor. Her head was thrown back, exposing the elegant line of her throat. Diamond earrings caught the afternoon light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“You feel so good,” Lucian growled, voice rough velvet. “So tight around me.”

His hips snapped forward. She cried out.

I needed to leave. Turn around. Close the door quietly and pretend this never happened. The professional thing to do. The rational thing.

I could not move.

Because I had seen pack members mate before. Wolves were not shy about physical pleasure. But this was different. This was raw, primal dominance wrapped in expensive cologne and designer pants pooled around his ankles. This was power made flesh.

One of his hands released her hip and slid up her spine, fingers tangling in her honey-blonde hair. He pulled her head back, forcing her to arch. The new angle made her whimper.

“Tell me who you belong to right now,” he demanded.

“You,” she gasped. “Only you.”

“Louder.”

“You, Alpha. I belong to you.”

My pulse hammered in my throat. Heat pooled low in my belly, unwanted and humiliating. I was watching the man I was supposed to work with having sex with a woman in broad daylight, in his office, and some traitorous part of my body was responding.

His rhythm increased. Relentless. Merciless. The desk scraped against the floor with each thrust. Her moans climbed higher, more desperate.

“Come for me,” he murmured, bending over her back so his mouth was near her ear. “Let everyone in this building know who’s making you feel this good.”

She shattered.

Her cry was loud enough to reach the hallway. Her whole body trembled, legs shaking so badly I thought she might collapse. Lucian held her through every wave, his free hand splayed possessively across her stomach.

I needed to go. Now. Before—

His head turned.

Those eyes. Dark amber shot through with gold, the color of expensive whiskey in lamplight. Alpha eyes. They locked onto mine with predatory precision.

He did not stop moving.

Did not pull out. Did not show an ounce of embarrassment or surprise. He held my gaze while he drove into the woman beneath him one final time, jaw clenching as he found his own release.

The corner of his mouth curved.

A smirk.

The man was smirking at me while he came inside another woman.

“Enjoying the view?” His voice carried across the room, smooth and mocking.

The woman’s head snapped up. She twisted to look over her shoulder, saw me standing there, and her face drained of color.

“Oh goddess,” she breathed.

“Don’t worry, darling.” Lucian finally withdrew, the movement deliberate and obscene. He disposed the condom he was using and tucked himself back into his pants with casual efficiency. “I’m sure our new security consultant has seen worse. Haven’t you, Miss Sinclair?”

He knew who I was.

Of course he did. He had been expecting me.

The woman scrambled off the desk, yanking her dress down with shaking hands. Mascara smudged beneath her eyes. Her lipstick was gone, probably smeared across his mouth or neck. She grabbed her clutch purse from the leather chair and ran for the door, brushing past me without meeting my eyes.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Silence filled the space she left behind.

Lucian leaned against his desk, arms crossed over his bare chest. His shirt hung open. I could see the ridges of his abdomen, the V of muscle disappearing into his waistband. A faint sheen of sweat made his skin glow.

“You’re early,” he said.

“I’m on time.” My voice came out steady. “Your assistant wasn’t at her desk.”

“Lunch break.”

“You scheduled my arrival during lunch?”

“I didn’t schedule anything.” He pushed off the desk and buttoned his shirt with infuriating slowness. “My grandmother insisted you report to me personally. I had other plans for the afternoon.”

“I noticed.”

“Does this bother you?”

“What?”

“Watching.” His fingers paused on the third button. “You stood there for quite a while.”

Heat flooded my face. “I was in shock.”

“Were you?” He resumed buttoning, those amber eyes never leaving mine. “Your pupils are dilated. Heart rate elevated. I smell the arousal on you from here.”

My hands clenched into fists. “You’re mistaken.”

“I’m an Alpha. I don’t make mistakes about these things.” He closed the final button and tucked his shirt in, every movement calculated to draw my attention. “Your body knows what you want, even if your mind won’t admit the truth.”

“The only truth here is you’re unprofessional, arrogant, and the entitled heir I expected.”

“Ouch.” He pressed a hand to his chest in mock pain. “We meet and already you hate me. Think what you’ll feel by the end of the week.”

“I won’t be here long.”

“According to your contract, you’ll be here for six months.”

“Contracts break.”

“Not ones my grandmother approves.” Lucian walked around the desk, each step bringing him closer. He moved like liquid sin, all controlled power and dangerous grace. “She requested you. Best tracker in Crescent Ridge. Analytical mind. Unshakable integrity.”

He stopped two feet away. Close enough for his scent to wrap around me. Cedar and smoke and something wild underneath. Alpha pheromones designed by nature to make wolves submit.

I lifted my chin.

“She left out stubborn,” he added.

“Is this a problem?”

“Depends.” His gaze dropped to my mouth, then slowly dragged back up. “I like a challenge.”

“I’m here to work. Nothing else.”

“Of course.” His smile was pure wickedness. “Strictly professional.”

“Good.”

“Although…” He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “If you ever want to stop pretending you didn’t get wet watching me—”

My hand moved before conscious thought.

The slap cracked through the office.

His head snapped to the side. For three heartbeats, nobody breathed.

Then he turned back to face me.

And those eyes, dark and amused, locked directly with mine.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​