Chapter 1: Your dad?

I pressed the vibrator harder against my clit and bit down on my lower lip, trying to keep the soft, broken sounds from escaping my lips.

The picture of Reynolds Ashworth was propped against the pillow, slightly wrinkled from how many times I’d held it.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

He was Mira’s dad. My best friend’s father. The Alpha of the Bloodmoon Pack. He was forty-two years old and completely off-limits.

I was eighteen, an orphaned Omega who barely ranked above the help, and he was the man who could ruin me with one look.

But still, my hips rolled against the toy.

The soft buzzing of the vibrator filled the dorm room.

I imagined those big hands pinning my wrists above my head.

I imagined that deep voice telling me to be quiet while he took what he wanted.

“Fuck,” I whispered, my eyes fluttering shut. “Reynolds…”

I circled the head of the vibrator faster, chasing the tight coil low in my belly.

My free hand squeezed my breast, pinching the nipple hard enough to make me gasp. In my head he was the one doing it. In my head he was the one calling me a good girl while he ruined me.

I was so close. The pleasure climbed higher. My thighs started to shake.

Just a few more seconds and I’d—

A sharp knock cut through the haze, sounding through the walls of the dorm.

I froze, my heart slamming against my ribs.

“Agnes? You okay in there?”

No…No…

It was Mira’s voice.

She couldn't see me like this.

I yanked the vibrator away, the sudden loss of sensation making me whimper under my breath.

My hands moved quickly, I threw the toy under the pile of clothes on the chair, and threw the picture of Reynolds beneath a hoodie.

I yanked my sleep shorts up and smoothed my tank top down, still breathing hard.

“Yeah,” I called out. “I’m fine. Just a second.”

I crossed the tiny dorm room on shaky legs and unlocked the door.

Mira walked inside like she owned the place. Her long dark hair was perfectly styled even when it was this early, and she already smelled like expensive perfume.

She looked around the messy room with a little wrinkle of her nose.

“You’re not even packed yet?” she said, dropping onto the edge of my bed. “We’re supposed to leave in an hour.”

“I’m almost done.” I forced a smile and turned toward my open suitcase, pretending to fold a shirt while my body still throbbed with unfinished need.

Mira stood up and started pacing, restless as always.

She poked at the pile of clothes on the chair, then moved to the desk, then the small nightstand.

My pulse kicked up every time her hand got too close to where I’d hidden things.

“I still can’t believe you’re actually coming,” she said, flipping through a notebook. “Two whole months at the penthouse. It’s going to be so much better than this dump.”

I made a small hum sound and kept packing, shoving underwear into the suitcase without really looking.

Then she stopped.

I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see her pick something up from the floor near the bed. A piece of paper.

My stomach dropped.

It was the picture. And somehow it had slipped out from under the hoodie.

Mira’s eyes narrowed with interest. “What’s this?”

I crossed the room in two steps and snatched at the paper, but she lifted it higher, laughing.

“Oh my god, you have a crush?” Her voice turned into a sing-song. “Who is he? Let me see.”

“It’s no one,” I said quickly, reaching for it again.

She danced back, holding the photo just out of reach. “Come on, Agnes. You’ve got a little heart drawn in the corner. That’s so cute.”

“Mira, give it back.”

She only grinned wider. “Not until I see who has my little Omega friend all worked up.”

I grabbed for it again, desperately.

The paper crumpled between our hands. In a last, stupid move, I yanked hard enough that it tore free, and shoved the whole thing into my mouth.

Mira stared at me.

“That’s very childish,” she said, but she was still smiling like she’d won something.

I stood there with paper in my mouth, my cheeks burning, refusing to spit it out.

She rolled her eyes and went back to pacing. “If you want the guy that badly, just go get him. No need to be fantasizing about him from the shadows like some tragic little virgin.”

I mumbled around the paper, the words coming out muffled and messy. “I don’t really think you’d like that…”

Mira stopped. “What did you say?”

I quickly chewed it to soak with saliva but I didn't swallow it, then forced a casual shrug. “Oh. Nothing.”

She watched me for another second, her eyes sharp, then she seemed to lose interest. “Whatever. Just finish packing. I'm tired of waiting.”

I turned back to the suitcase and kept packing with shaking hands. When Mira wandered over to the window to check her phone, I carefully spat the soggy remains of the photo into my palm, folded what was left, and tucked it deep inside a small wooden box I kept under my bed.

I finished packing in silence. Mira kept talking about the penthouse, about how the pool was heated, about how her mom might stop by later in the summer.

I barely heard any of it.

When I closed the last zipper, I stood up and grabbed the handle of my suitcase.

“Ready?” Mira asked.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

We left the dorm together.

Outside, the late morning sun was already warm. I expected to see Mira’s little silver car waiting at the curb the way it usually did.

Instead, a black SUV was packed there, its engine running, and windows tinted.

The driver’s door opened.

Reynolds Ashworth stepped out.

He was tall, broad shoulder, dressed in a black button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms.

His chocolate-brown hair was slightly messy, like he’d run a hand through it, and those golden-hazel eyes landed on me for less than a second.

My heart stopped.

Mira bounced forward with a bright smile. “Dad would be driving us. He’s coming for the whole vacation.”

I stared at him, my suitcase handle digging into my palm.

“Your dad?”