“I don’t want civilized.” I looked up at him, my eyes wide and wet and wild, and I dragged one hand under his shirt, sliding my fingers up his abs, nails lightly scratching over the ridges of heat and skin until I felt his breath stutter. “I want rough,” I said. “I want the version of you that slapped your daughter and threw your ex out with nothing but a look. I want the version that grabbed her throat and made my pussy gush without even touching me.” I pressed closer. Not all the way. Not enough to touch. Just close enough that he could feel the heat of me through the air between us. “Because I’m still wet,” I whispered. “Still dripping. thighs glued together, breathless, wrecked—and you’re doing nothing about it. And that’s cruel.” His nostrils flared. Good. I licked my lips, dragged my hand back down his chest, slower this time. Teasing every button. Every line of heat I could feel under the fabric. My voice dropped again. “You know what I need, don’t you?” He d
~Lyra~ “Come here, kitten.” The second those words rolled out of his mouth, slow and deep and thick with that Alpha growl he knows drives me insane, my thighs clenched so hard I swear I saw stars for a second. My entire body responded instantly. My breath caught, my nipples tightened against his shirt, and my pussy? My pussy pulsed like it had just been called by name. But I didn’t move. Oh, no. I didn’t fucking move an inch. Instead, I stood there in the middle of the room, barefoot and flushed and soaked with the aftershock of war and lust and pride, and I stared at him with a smile on my face that was far too sweet to be innocent. “You want me to come to you?” I asked, letting the words drag out of my mouth like honey over a blade. “Just like that? After everything I just did? After I turned your ex into a broken sobbing mess and made your daughter cry in front of you like she was six again?” He didn’t answer. Not with words. But I saw his hand twitch. His jaw
Tasha was shaking. Her whole body was curled inward like she was trying to fold herself up and disappear. “You heard what my Luna said,” Damon growled, his voice vibrating through the walls like thunder shaking the bones of the house. “She doesn’t want you here. She doesn’t want Camilla here. And what she says in this house is final. She is the Luna of this pack. Her word is law.” I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until he said that. Luna. Final. Law. The words slid over my skin like lightning and lust and power, and I swear I almost came standing right there. “I have several mansions,” Damon continued coldly. “You can pick one. I’ll have it ready before nightfall. But this one? It’s hers now.” Tasha let out a low, animal sound—somewhere between a sob and a scream—and then she looked at me. Straight at me. And in her eyes, I saw it. Not sadness. Not shock. Hatred. “You ruined my family,” she whispered, and her voice sounded broken now. Not from crying. From
~Lyra~ Camilla’s head snapped up so fast her earrings swung sideways. Her face was blotched with red and black from all the crying. “Your house?” she repeated, and her voice cracked with disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me, Lyra?” She laughed. It wasn’t real laughter. It was the kind that comes from losing everything in a single sentence and not knowing where to scream first. “You’re a guest in a house I decorated, in a life I built from the ground up. You’re a stupid girl with a pulse and a heat cycle, and now you think a few orgasms make you the fucking owner of this home?” Her voice was shaking. Her fingers were curled into her blouse like she was seconds away from lunging at me. But I didn’t flinch. I didn’t move. “You think this is your house?” she demanded again, louder now. “You think taking a few knots makes you queen of the fucking kingdom?” “I think taking his last name will,” I said, and I said it slow. So slow her knees almost gave out. “I think carrying
“You’re delusional,” she hissed. “You’re a fucking Omega in heat, and you let it ruin your brain.” “No,” I snapped. “I let it free me.” I stepped forward until I was right in front of her. My body was shaking. My cheeks were hot. My cunt was soaked. My heart was thundering so loud it felt like it echoed in my throat. And I didn’t care anymore if it was cruel. I didn’t care if she cried. I didn’t care if it destroyed us completely. I wanted her to know. “When he knots me,” I whispered, “I cry. I scream. I beg him to stay inside. I beg him not to pull out. I beg him to fill me so deep I can’t think for days. I thank him when he finishes. I wrap my legs around him and tell him I want more. And he gives it to me. Over and over and over again.” Tasha’s breath hitched. My eyes were glassy, my throat raw, but I kept going. “You want to know how many times I’ve moaned his name in this house? You want to know how many nights I’ve bit down the pillow and came so hard I forgot my
Lyra “What the hell?!” Tasha screamed, her voice cracking like glass under pressure. Her hands flew to her head, fingers clutching at her curls like she was physically trying to keep her sanity from spilling out of her skull. “You’ve always been drawn to him? What the fuck are you saying right now?! You’re telling me you’ve been thinking about my dad? Since before summer? Since before you even shifted?!” I didn’t flinch. I didn’t shrink. I didn’t fake another soft, guilty apology like I had anything left to give her. I stared her dead in the face, trembling, flushed, wet between my legs, my heart pounding so loud I could barely hear my own voice. “Yes,” I said, and my voice came out steady, sharp, and unapologetic. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” She looked like she was going to pass out. “Are you hearing yourself?” she snapped. “You were just a kid. And you were getting off to my dad? What kind of sick freak does that, Lyra?!” “You think I didn’t try to fight it?”