Feral Obsession Fall for the Hockey Alpha Captain

ZULEIKA’S POV

I lay on my stomach, boobs squished against a pillow, eyes glued to my laptop. Freckles had recommended a bunch of movies, and with Mom and Dad out for the weekend, I finally decided to check one out.

She’d warned me it was R-rated—“Very R,” she’d said with a smirk—but I didn’t care. I wasn’t a teenager. I was twenty, a second-year student at McCall College, and an adult by every standard that mattered.

Halfway through the movie, the sex scenes hit. Hard. And I mean hard.

My body reacted before I could even stop it—heat curling low in my belly, clit throbbing with need. The urge to touch myself grew overwhelming.

I’d never done this before. Masturbation had always felt taboo, something whispered about but never explored. But now? Now I couldn’t stop. My fingers dipped into my slick folds, moans slipping from my lips as the characters on screen went at it like wild animals.

The way they moved reminded me of something primal-feral. The way wolves mated during the full moon.

My head tilted back, black hair tumbling down my back, mouth open as I gasped and whimpered, chasing that high. I was so close—so caught up in the pleasure—I didn’t hear the door creak open.

Didn’t hear footsteps.

Didn’t sense the presence watching me until—

“Masturbating looks boring. I could help you, y’know.”

The deep voice hit me like a lightning strike, dark and familiar. My eyes snapped open in horror.

I froze.

Pulled my hand away. Sat up fast and shoved both hands behind me like that would somehow erase the fact that he had just witnessed all of that.

“Lanvin?” I hissed.

He stood there like the arrogant jackass he was, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. The light from the hallway caught on the silver loop in his left ear, one that marked him as an Alpha heir to his pack. Not mine. Not that I cared.

“I guess you lost your key to manners,” I snapped, my voice sharp and mortified. “Consent is a thing, look it up sometime.”

His smirk deepened. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your little… solo session.”

My face burned. My cheeks probably looked like sunburnt tomatoes.

Zade’s best friend—and the last person I ever wanted to see me like that—just walked in on me getting off to p**n. Kill me. Please.

“What the hell are you even doing here, Lavini?” I demanded, trying to sound pissed rather than mortified.

“I’ve told you, stop calling me Lavini,” he said, ignoring my question. “It’s Lanvin.”

“I’ll call you whatever I damn well please.” I slammed the laptop shut, which had still been playing moans loud enough to haunt my soul. “So again, what are you doing here?”

He tilted his head, glancing at the now-quiet laptop, then back at me. “Didn’t think a sweet little thing like you would watch that kind of stuff. Guess you’re not as innocent as you act.”

He said it like he could smell it on me—the arousal. The shame. Like scent meant something.

I hated him. Hated the way his voice dipped low like he owned the damn room. Hated the way he looked at me like he could see through me.

Hated the way my body still tingled from earlier, and now—because of him—it tingled for a different reason.

Worse? My instincts didn’t know the difference. They just reacted to him.

“Answer the question, Lavini. Not optional.” I rolled my eyes, my brain concocting ways to send him out of my room and bury myself in here for years, because the kind of embarrassment I was feeling was top notch.

“Zade wants you downstairs for dinner. So, should I inform him how busy of a person you are?”

“I will fucking kill you, Darkfire, if you say a word to Zade!” I gritted, pointing an accusatory finger his way, while he only smirked.

“Threats suit you, Leika. Adds to the charm.” His eyes gleamed with sinister intentions as he turned to leave.

I quickly shut my laptop and followed closely behind him as we made our way downstairs.

When we got to the dining room, Zade was already seated, food laid out in a mini feast. Lavin slid into a seat two chairs away from me which I was grateful for.

If he’d sat any closer, I might’ve stabbed him with a fork.

“What took you so long, Leika?” Zade asked, shooting me a look.

“I was busy,” I said, forcing a small smile as I sat across from him.

“Busy watching p**n,” Lavin muttered, just loud enough for me to hear.

My eyes widened. My hand itched to hurl the coffee mug at his face.

“What did you say, Lavin?” Zade asked, raising a brow.

“Just talking to myself,” Lavin said smoothly, flashing a fake smile before digging into his food.

To avoid a complete meltdown, I changed the subject. “When are Mom and Dad coming back?”

Zade took a sip of wine. “Not sure. Tomorrow or the day after, maybe.”

Figures.

“I guess they don’t care much about their kids,” I muttered, stabbing a piece of chicken like it had personally offended me.

“They do care, Leika. Mom calls me at least three times a week,” Zade replied, voice calm, almost defensive.

Of course she did. They always called him. The golden child. The perfect son. But me? It was more like I didn’t existed to them.

“They never call me. Not once,” I said, quieter this time. “They treat me like I don’t exist.”

The room went still. Tears welled up in my eyes and a lump lodged at my throat, making it hard to breathe.

“I’m sure they’ll come around,” Zade said softly. “Give them time.”

I bit my tongue. When? When I graduate? When I disappear?

Lavin’s voice cut through the silence. “Don’t tell me you’re about to cry.”

I glanced up and caught the faintest softness behind his teasing. He was trying to lighten the mood in the most Lavin way possible. Still a jackass. But for once, a jackass with timing.

“Fuck off, Lavin.”

He smirked. “No more foul language, Leika. You’re innocent, remember?”

His eyes glittered with something unreadable.

I hated how he got under my skin.

Worse?

I hated that a part of me didn’t really want him to stop.