All Chapters of Breed Me. Daddy Alpha: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

~Lyra~ Do you know what it feels like to walk into a room full of the most powerful, ancient, snarling, superiority-complex-having Alphas in the fucking country with dried cum on your inner thighs, a limp in your step, and your heart still echoing the last time he called you kitten? I’ll tell you. It feels like stepping into a holy place while still reeking of sin. Like crashing a funeral covered in glitter and orgasms. Like flipping off a room full of priests while wearing nothing but lace. And the worst part? Or maybe the best, depending on how messed up you are inside? I loved it. I was high. Not on drugs, not on alcohol—on power. On heat. On sex. On Damon. The council room was colder than I expected. Maybe because the windows were shut, or maybe because they all looked like they’d rather die than have an Omega in their presence unless she was serving tea or getting fucked to make heirs. And yet there I was, walking in like the floor belonged to me. Twelve chairs. T

~Lyra~ The old man or whatever the fuck his name was—didn’t stop with one comment. He didn’t make one nasty remark and shut the hell up like a man with survival instincts. No. He kept talking. “Look at her,” he sneered, gesturing with one hand like he was pointing out a buffet item. “Look at the way her tits bounce when she breathes. You sure she’s eighteen? Because fuck me, that body says porn star, not politician.” I stiffened. My fingers curled so hard my nails dug into my palms. My stomach flipped. My jaw tightened. I didn’t look at Damon yet. I couldn’t. Because surely, surely he was about to shut this bastard down. But no. The man went on. “She’s got the kind of mouth you grip the back of her head for. I mean damn. All that attitude? That heat? That mouth? You don’t crown bitches like her. You fuck them. You tie them up. You make them scream until their voice is gone.” The blood in my ears was rushing so loud I could barely hear the rest, but I didn’t have t

~Lyra~ Damon leaned forward now, resting both hands on the edge of the blood-splattered table, and looked them dead in the eye. “The rogue problem,” he said, as if the past fifteen minutes of chaos hadn’t happened. “You’ve all been ignoring it. Hoping it would fade. Hoping the weaker packs would get slaughtered before the rogues made it to your doorstep.” He scanned their faces. Not a flinch. Not a blink. Cowards. He looked around the table, his gaze slicing through every old man like a blade. “You think they’re just angry exiles with no plan? Wrong. They’re building something. And from the way your border packs are going quiet? I’d say they’re almost ready.” Some of the men stiffened. I could feel it, panic trying to rise in their throats like bile, but too afraid to come out. No one wanted to admit what we all knew. They’d ignored it. They’d ignored the signs. The missing scouts. The torn patrol gear. The howls that sounded too human in the woods at night. The stench

~Lyra~ Okay so listen, I know this is going to sound crazy—and I swear I’m not even exaggerating—but the moment that last elder walked out and the door slammed shut? I felt it. Like not in a subtle, oh-what-a-tense-moment kind of way. No. I mean I felt it in my chest. In my throat. In my freaking pussy. I knew what was about to happen and my legs were already trembling because Damon was standing behind me, breathing like he had murder in his lungs and sex in his veins, and I just knew. I fucking knew he was about to lose it. He didn’t even speak at first. He didn’t say a single word. He just stood there with his big Alpha body radiating heat like a goddamn volcano while I sat there—still in that stupid bloody chair, still pulsing between my legs, still trying to pretend I wasn’t so horny I could cry. And then? Oh my God. He slammed his hand down on the table. Not gently. Not like a little warning tap. I mean he slammed it like the table owed him money and the sound

~Damon~ When I received the call from my neighbor informing me that Camilla had a gun to her head, I didn’t flinch. I didn’t freeze. I didn’t even stop thrusting. There was no panic in my blood, no spike in adrenaline, no sudden jolt of concern racing up my spine. Nothing. Not even a fucking heartbeat out of rhythm. All I felt was annoyance. A deep, simmering, venom-laced kind of irritation that spread through my chest like acid. Not fear. Not worry. Not even curiosity. Just a cold, bitter fury that she would dare interrupt me while I was still buried balls-deep inside Lyra. I was still coming down from the high of my orgasm, my cock still twitching from the aftershocks, the veins still swollen, the base still thick and hot and pulsing. And Camilla? She wanted to kill herself? What the actual fuck did that have to do with me? I didn’t even reach for the phone out of care. I didn’t answer it because I gave a damn about her life. I picked it up because the buzzing