Marked By My Fiance's Alpha Uncle

EVELINE

“You’re a damn fool, Eve.”

The lady at the bar gulped down her third glass of tequila, stared at her reflection in the glass, and kept talking to herself.

“Two years. Two whole years with the wrong man. And for what?”

A memory flooded in despite the alcohol.

The image of her fiancè, Damon, thrusting into her stepsister Ruby earlier that night. The smell of sweat and rigor, the sounds of skin on skin, creaking bed springs, Ruby’s muffled moans into the sheets. The filthy words Damon had uttered.

“He doesn’t even talk dirty with me,” she mumbled, before raising her hand for another glass.

The alcohol wasn’t hitting fast enough, if she could still recall all that happened that evening. She had fled the house in a daze, jumped into her car, and driven without thinking. Not back to the Vale mansion where guests from his pack were still gathered for their engagement dinner.

Not to the apartment she shared with Tammy, who would bombard her with questions.

And definitely not to her foster father’s place. He had called her twice tonight, but she didn't pick up. He would be worried, but not because of her absence. It would be because this marriage was a means to an end for him, and she was the ace card.

‘Maybe Damon had finally gotten tired of waiting for a half-breed whose wolf still hadn't bothered to show up’ she gave up silly excuses for her misfortune.

Ever since her foster father told her she was half-breed, her wolf-side had remained dormant. She believed something was wrong with her.

Now, Damon had done an excellent job proving she was the one with factory issues.

Tonight, she wanted to be drastic. All her life she had been the good girl; obedient, polished, the perfect match for the future alpha of the Vale Pack. She had loved Damon since their families arranged the betrothal, through college, turning down every other guy who showed interest.

Yet, this was how he repaid her.

Her fourth glass arrived. She was lifting it to her lips when someone slid into the seat beside her.

Startled, she jerked and the tequila poured over the rim of the glass, splashing across the stranger’s trousers.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry…” The words slurred out of her mouth as she looked up.

Her breath caught in her throat.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with thick arms straining the fabric of his black shirt. A faint scar marked his left brow, and his eyes were a sharp blue as they looked down at the spill she had made on his trousers.

“Are you alright?” he asked in a quiet, rumbling voice that sent an unexpected shiver through her.

“I’m fine,” she managed to reply.

The stranger raised an eyebrow, glancing at the spill on his pants again.

“You sure about that?”

She gave a weak, embarrassed smile and pulled out her handkerchief, dabbing at the wet spot on his thigh before realizing how awkward it looked. She yanked her hand back.

“Sorry. I’m not usually this much of a mess.”

“It’s just a drink,” he said.

He ordered another round for himself and offered to get her one too. She pursed her lips, considering how drunk she seemed.

Then she nodded.

“You come here often?”

“Uh, no.” Eveline met his eyes, and her tongue loosened again. “I just found my fiancé fucking my stepsister, so I came here to get wasted.”

He raised his brows. “Wow.”

“Yeah, it’s as crazy as it sounds.”

“That was foolish of him,” the stranger said, gulping down his drink. “He clearly does not appreciate the goddess that you are.”

Heat ran up Eveline’s neck. She turned away from his gaze, but when she looked back, he was still staring at her.

“I'm not…I…” She trailed off and turned away from those beautiful blue eyes.

Another drink, and the warmth spread through her veins like fire.

“You sure you're okay?” He said, one hand touching hers. “You don't have to waste yourself away because of some guy, you know.”

She chuckled. “I’m fine, really.”

A sudden, erratic impulse seized her as she looked down at his hand on hers.

“Hey, do you wanna get out of here?” she blurted out.

The stranger cocked his head. studied her for a long moment, then smiled.

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

He paid for their drinks and helped her to her feet when her knees wobbled. Outside, the cool night air did little to clear her head. Not that she wanted it to. She had never felt more free.

And high.

“Give me your keys. I’ll drive,” said the man, as if he read her mind.

“I don’t wanna go home.” Eveline shook her head. “Anywhere but home.”

“Alright. We won’t go to your place.”

She paused, looking up at him again. Then she handed him her keys and let him lead her out into the night. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and she found herself imagining all the things those hands could do…

“This your car?” His voice pulled her back as they stopped in front of her blue Kia.

She nodded. He opened the passenger door for her, then got behind the wheel and drove down the street.

It was barely five minutes later before he stopped before a high rise building with lights all the way to the top.

“You live here?”

“Oh no, I’m only lodging for a couple of nights.”

He offered her his arm, and she took it, grateful for the steady support as the world tilted a little.

His scent wrapped around her as they entered the elevator: cedarwood and lemon, cool and calming. She wanted to lean into him, wanted to wrap her hands around that strong body.

His hand guided her down the hallway to his suite.

It was beautiful: floor-to-ceiling windows and a king-sized bed dressed in crisp white sheets. A small seating area with a sleek couch and a minibar completed the picture.

“Wow,” she whispered, stepping inside. “This is… nice.”

He closed the door behind them with a soft click.

“Get some rest,” he rumbled in that quiet but deep voice. “You’ve had a hell of a night.”

Eveline turned to face him, heart pounding. Maybe it was the alcohol burning in her veins, or the way this stranger’s presence made her skin hum, or the pure, vicious need to hurt Damon back, but…

“I don’t want to rest,” she said, taking a step closer.

His sharp blue eyes narrowed slightly. “I still think you’re a bit drunk.”

She frowned. “And I know what I want.”

She closed the distance, rose onto her toes, and pressed her lips to his.

For a second she thought he would pull back. Then his arms came around her, sudden and strong, pulling her against his broad chest.

He kissed her back, lips turning hungry and deep. His hands roamed over her, one tangling in her hair, the other gripping her waist, crushing her against him.

They stumbled toward the bed, shedding their clothes in a frantic trail. Her dress slipped to the floor. His shirt followed. She barely had time to admire the hard planes of his chest before they fell over the mattress.

He hovered over her, one hand sliding between her thighs. His fingers found her clit and drew slow, maddening circles. Eveline gasped for breath, eyes falling shut, her body arching into his touch.

For the first time in twenty- two years, she felt a strange, unfamiliar pull she'd never felt before. An ache beneath her skin, urging her toward him.

Her legs had already betrayed her far more than she expected. She was wet and aching, desperate for him.

He paused. “You’re sure about this?”

“Shut up and fuck me already.”

A low growl tore from his throat. In one slow glide he buried himself deep inside her. The stretch was perfect, stealing her breath as he pulled back and moved in again.

He was slow and sweet, driving pleasure through her like lightning. She clung to his shoulders, nails digging in, meeting every thrust with a roll of her hips.

Everything blurred into muffled panting, the bed squeaking beneath them. Their breaths mingled in desperate gasps.

And without warning, he leaned down, brushed his mouth against her neck, and sank his teeth into the soft flesh where her shoulder met her throat.

Eveline’s head went blank.