Semua Bab HER LYCAN STEPBROTHER’S OBSESSION: Bab 161 - Bab 170

Ivy's POV The first trimester was flying by faster than I expected, but that didn’t make it any easier. The nausea was unrelenting, sweeping in at the most inconvenient hours and dragging me from sleep straight to the bathroom. Morning sickness didn’t stick to mornings. It came in waves, unpredictable and exhausting. And yet, somewhere in the middle of the discomfort and dizziness, there was this quiet, pulsing joy. I was carrying a life. Brandon’s and mine. That thought alone kept me anchored when nothing else did.Brandon had stepped up in ways I hadn’t imagined. He was constantly hovering, gentle, relentless, completely devoted. I wasn’t allowed to lift a single thing. He made sure I ate, even when my appetite vanished, fed me in bed, rubbed my back when I curled up from slight cramps, and turned into something of a personal butler who refused to complain. And then there was the little witch always nearby, somehow knowing the exact moment I needed a cold cloth or lemon water or

Brandon's POVI always knew Amari was dangerous.From the very beginning, she wore her sweetness like armor, a thin veil of charm stretched over a core that was all evil and venom. The kind of woman who always smiled just a little too gently, who tilted her head when asked a direct question, who spoke with soft words but carried a blade behind her back.The kind of woman who thrived on pretending to be harmless, all while orchestrating cruelty from the shadows.But even with everything I knew, every suspicion I’d ever had, I still didn’t think she was capable of this.Her own daughter.Bella was lying on the floor when I found her.Sprawled out on a thin mattress in the corner of the room. The child’s skin was so pale it nearly matched the linens under her. Sweat beading at her temples, her lips cracked and gray. Every breath came in a shallow, wheezing gasp, and her fingers twitched like her body was fighting something it couldn’t beat.I knew that look now. I’d seen it once alread

Brandon's POV Amari was a mess when they dragged her in again.Two guards shoved open the doors of the interrogation chamber, each holding one of her arms. Her hair was tangled, her face was pale beneath bruises, and her wrists were raw and red where the cuffs had rubbed against her skin. Her lips were cracked. She looked like hell, and she still had the nerve to lift her chin as they dropped her in the chair across from me.Like pride was the only thing she had left to wear.She sat upright, barely flinching as the guards secured her to the chair with the cuffs. She met my gaze directly, eyes rimmed in red but blazing with something stubborn. I recognized the look. The same one I’d seen when she lied to me the first time. When she swore on everything she had that she’d changed.“You’re still going to insist you acted alone?” I asked, voice low, cold.She didn’t answer right away. Just stared at me, breathing slow and shallow. Then she gave a tiny nod. “I did. I did all of this al

Ivy’s POV “I don’t know if this is the right thing,” Brandon said, his voice ragged with exhaustion. “I like her, I do, but this is a lot, Ivy. We’re not in a place to raise a child. Not with everything going on.”I crossed the room, grounding a hand gently on his arm, not just to comfort him, but to anchor him in the truth. “She doesn’t see it like that, Bran. She doesn’t care about the chaos. She only sees you.”His head dropped slightly. He didn’t respond at first, but I could see him listening. His mouth opened, then closed again. He rubbed his free hand over his stubble. “I’m not her father, Ivy.”“You are to her,” I said. “She doesn’t know any different. You’re the one she runs to when she has a nightmare. The one she clings to when the world gets loud. Her mother is gone, and if you shut her out now, it’ll feel like she’s losing you too.”His jaw tightened, and he looked away, blinking hard. “What if I can’t protect her? What if I become one more person she can’t count on?”

ZeliaIt wasn’t rushed.It wasn’t desperate.It was deliberate. Intimate. Starving.His mouth moved against mine like he was memorizing me— like he had all the time in the world and still didn’t want to waste a second. His hand cupped the back of my neck, firm and possessive, drawing me deeper into him.I should’ve pulled away. I should have.But when his tongue swept gently against mine, teasing, tasting, my knees buckled and I clutched at his shirt, fisting the fabric over his chest like I could anchor myself to him.I felt him groan— deep, low, vibrating through both of us.The kiss shifted. Grew hotter. Hungrier.His other hand slid to my waist, fingers splaying against the bare strip of skin where my blouse had ridden up. His touch burned—no, branded—leaving a trail of fire as he dragged me flush against him. I felt him—all of him—thick and hard against my stomach through his jeans, and the ache between my legs roared to life, raw and throbbing.I hated how good it felt.I hate