Todos os capítulos de The Alpha's Broken Pet: Capítulo 101 - Capítulo 110

Brian didn’t say anything at first. He stared at me like he hadn’t heard right, like the words needed time to catch up to his brain. Then his jaw moved slowly, like it was suddenly too much effort."I don’t get it.""Yeah," I said, rubbing the side of my face, "welcome to the club. I found out at the festival. One look and the bond hit like a damn freight train. I felt everything. Every damn thing. And he—"I trailed off. There was no neat way to say it.Brian leaned in, his brow pulled low. "And?""He won’t acknowledge it," I said flatly. "But he won’t reject me either. He’s acting like it doesn’t even exist."Brian slammed his fist against the table so hard that the plates jumped. He pushed his chair back with a scrape and started pacing, arms folded. His body carried that sharp, twitchy kind of rage I recognized too well."Damn it! Why didn’t you say something sooner?"I opened my mouth to speak and closed it.“Why would you keep such news to yourself?”"Because I needed to be sure

I tossed on Brian’s bed for hours. The sheets had gone cold from my twisting. He’d moved out last year after my dad told him he’d never approve of Sydney. Not just disapprove—he called her unworthy, like her bloodline was dirt on the floor. Brian packed up that same night and never looked back. Smart move.If I had known things would go this far, I would’ve stayed at the Lycan pack. At least there, the wolves kept their bullshit in the open. You knew who hated you and why.By the time morning light slipped in through the blinds, I was still awake. I stared at the ceiling until hunger won. I had cleaned out the entire bottle of trail nuts around three in the morning, but it wasn’t enough to hold me.I stayed upstairs as long as I could, but eventually, I padded barefoot down the hall, hoping to get in and out without being seen. The smell of reheated bacon and toast drifted from the kitchen.I should’ve known better.Lilith was already downstairs, waiting at the head of the dining tabl

The bar lights were low but not low enough to hide me. The sharp pull of the bond hit under my ribs. Justin’s boots scraped the floor, making my pulse jump. It wasn’t romantic. It was feral.The air around me thickened. Justin cut through the room like gravity bowed for him. I told myself to focus on the screen, to pretend like his presence didn’t stretch across my skin.He moved closer. My breath shortened. I could feel the damn heat of him without even turning. I stared hard at the game on the screen. The players blurred. My body betrayed me. The spark tingled through my nerves, crawling under my hoodie, lighting up every cell like it had been waiting for a cue.Don’t look at him.I did anyway.He was watching me. His expression didn’t give much. No smirk. No bullshit attitude. Just those eyes like they saw too much.And I—God help me—I smiled. I didn’t mean to. My face moved on its own, lips pulling upward. I saw something flicker in his face then. A twitch at the corner of his mo

JustinMarissa’s fork moved with slow grace. I watched her take a bite of the vanilla cake, and something low and unsettling stirred in my chest. A hunger I didn’t know how to name.I couldn’t look away. She ate like she felt everything. Deliberately sensual. Her lips closed over the tines of the fork, throat working softly as she swallowed. It shouldn't have meant anything, but it did. It made my restraint fray.The urge to close the space between us, to take that soft lower lip between my teeth, nearly yanked me out of my chair.I swallowed. My throat was bone-dry. I shoved the thought away, forced it down into the place I’d been stuffing things lately. It didn’t belong here.Where the hell was this even coming from? It wasn’t just wanting a kiss. It wasn’t just sex. Something was unraveling inside me.She set the fork down on the napkin. Her eyes lifted and met mine.That’s when it hit me, deep in the chest. The need to kiss her again, to taste that cake on her tongue, and everythi

Justin's body burned like he'd walked through a fever. I felt it through the thin cotton of my shirt, straight into my skin, and it scared me.I pressed into him, leaning my arms tight around his back, fingers gripping the warm fabric of his shirt. Our scent, tangled with something dry and chemical, almost like crushed chalk or hospital powder, filled my nose. It should’ve turned me off. It didn’t. It made me want to sink deeper into him, to strip off the layers and see where the heat ended.He was sick. I could see it. The slowness in his limbs and the way his breath hitched. But he was still beautiful.Still mine.My fingers moved over his spine, slow at first, then pressing into muscle as I rubbed his back. He shuddered. His breath spilled hot against my neck, right into the place that always made me cave. My thighs tightened without permission.“Are you going to be okay?” I asked into the space between his collar and my lips.His eyes cracked open for a second, dark and wet with