บททั้งหมดของ My Father's Best Friend Is My Mate And My Stalker: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

In my dreams, I am not myself.I am tied down, my wrists bound above my head, the coarse rope digging into my skin. My legs are parted, the sheets beneath me cool against my bare skin. Shadows curl at the edges of the room like smoke, and from within them, I hear footsteps which are slow, deliberate and heavy.Then he emerges.He is tall,at least six feet of raw menace and power,his body carved in darkness, face hidden from me as though the dream itself refuses to reveal him. Yet my wolf knows him. Sylvara doesn’t just stir,she howls, thrashing inside me, calling out to him like a long-lost mate.He circles the bed like a predator savoring the helplessness of its prey,which was me. My breath catches, quick and uneven. His presence fills every corner of the room, pressing down on me until I feel both trapped and… craved.When he finally leans in, he doesn’t start with my lips. No. He lowers himself to the end of the bed, and the first touch of his mouth is at my ankle, a kiss so light

The goblet shattered in his hand, but he didn’t so much as flinch at the sting of glass piercing his palm. Crimson wine ran down his fingers like blood, dripping onto the obsidian armrest of his throne. The air thickened, oppressive, charged with his fury. He leaned forward slowly, claws digging deep into the throne’s armrests until cracks spider-webbed through the black stone. His eyes glowed faintly, a savage light burning within them, the kind of fire that promised ruin to anyone foolish enough to stand against him. The lake rippled violently, reacting to his rage. Waves crashed against the edges of the basin, hissing, glowing brighter as though Evelyn’s essence itself trembled beneath his wrath. In the shimmering reflection, Evelyn stirred. Her brows knitted faintly as though a shadow had touched her dreams. She shifted in her bed, her lips parting, her body curling slightly, unsettled. She did not wake, but her chest rose quicker, her breaths shallow, as though her soul itself

*The Sodom Pack* Glasses shattered. Vases split against the stone floor, spraying shards across the black marble like sparks from a raging fire. The entire wing of the fortress trembled with his wrath. Outside his quarters, a woman lingered,seduction made flesh. She wore red like blood itself, a body-hugging gown with a slit that climbed indecently high up her thigh. Every step she took was a slow sin, her hips swaying with cruel grace. Her hair tumbled in dark, glossy waves down her back, her lips plump and painted the deep red of temptation. Long iron nails gleamed when she flexed her fingers, sharp enough to pierce bone. Her chest strained proudly against the thin fabric, daring the world to look and fall. The guards and maids tried to bar her way. “My lady, you cannot—” She shoved them aside like they were nothing but twigs, her nails scraping against the walls as she stormed forward, each click of her heel echoing like a countdown. The moment she crossed the threshold, a roar

Evelyn’s POVAs if noticing the maids were done putting me in shape,Father’s voice carried down the hall.“Evelyn, come in. Don’t linger there in boredom.”I pressed a hand against my stomach, willing my nerves to quiet. When Father called like that, it never meant I had a choice. Straightening my gown, I stepped into the living room. The warmth of the fire met me first, followed by the weight of two gazes.Father stood near the mantel, dignified as ever. But Lord Dylen rose from his chair when I entered. I’d heard stories of him, Father’s oldest friend, a man respected and feared across packs. Yet the air around him felt… wrong. Not dangerous exactly,just different. Too still and too heavy, this wasn't the aura I felt when I was with Alpha’s. “Evelyn,” Father said, his voice softening. “You remember Lord Dylan.”I dipped my head. “Your highness.”His voice rolled like low thunder. “It’s been a long time since I last saw you. You’ve grown.You become more and more beautiful everyday”

DylenThe night stretched in silence, the kind of silence that carried a heartbeat if one listened closely enough. I walked the stone path to the garden, Kaela’s footsteps a whisper behind mine.The air smelled of damp soil and moonlight,but something else lay beneath it.When we reached the heart of the garden, I stopped. The space where the moonflower had always bloomed was bare. The protective runes carved into the stones around it shimmered weakly, as if still trying to remember their purpose.Kaela crouched, gloved fingers brushing the disturbed earth. “They moved carefully,” she said. “A witch’s hand, by the scent of it,not even the guards noticed her presence my Lord.”I said nothing. The light of the half-moon caught on the pale scars that crossed the stone basin. I had tended that bloom for decades, one of the few remnants of a time when my kind still mattered. The flower wasn’t just a plant; it was memory.And now it was gone.Kaela rose and faced me. “You could call the pack