Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Evil Alpha next door: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 5

The damn key wouldn’t turn. I stood on my mother’s porch, jiggling the stubborn lock. June in Ridgeway Oaks was already brutal—all humidity and breathless heat that made my tank top cling to my skin.“Come on,” I muttered, giving it one last aggressive twist.The lock surrendered with a rusty click.I shouldered the door open and dragged my duffel inside, immediately hit by the smell of dust and my mother’s faint lavender perfume.The house felt stifling and hot. Dust motes danced in the lone shafts of light cutting through the drawn curtains in the living room. Everything was covered in a thin film of dust.I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. I had just cracked it open when the sound hit.A motorcycle. The engine’s growl rattled the windows, filling my ears with an aggressive, unpleasant roar. I moved toward my window to see who was riding the bike. Through the glass, I saw him—black leather, dark hair whipping back, astride a large, shiny bike that

The beer in my hand is warm. Not chill like I prefer. But I keep drinking it anyway, standing at the window watching her like some creep with nothing better to do.I keep telling myself that I’m looking at the view outside. And I’m certainly not staring at a certain girl who was weeding her yard, looking too damn seductive while at it. I mean, who looks sexy weeding their damn yard?She’s been out there for a while. Knees in the dirt, tank top sticking to her boobs, hair falling out of that half-assed ponytail she tied. Making me imagine how it would look with my hands squeezing her hair while—shut that thought.My wolf presses under my skin, agitated from the testosterone flooding my body.I tear my gaze away. She is human. They are background noise. Pleasant enough to look at, occasionally decent people you get to fuck and have a good time—nothing more. If I needed her, all I’d have to do is ask her to suck my dick and she would oblige. I don’t need to spend my time fantasizing abou

I was in the kitchen, water bottle in hand, when I heard it: footsteps. On my porch. My body went instantly alert.Then came a knock—two distinct raps. From the sound, I could guess the person was a woman.I crossed to the door and yanked it open. And there she was.Maren Cole.Standing on my porch in an oversized trench coat, belted tight at the waist. Her hair was down, loose waves falling past her shoulders. She was wearing makeup—not much, but enough that her lips looked fuller, darker, and her eyes wider.She looked nervous. Like a frightened rabbit.“Can I help you?” I drawled. What did she intend to do coming here?She opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried again.“I came to visit you.”“Visit me?”Her hands went to the belt of her coat. And she untied it. The fabric fell open. My brain short-circuited.She was wearing lingerie. Black lace that barely covered her body. Her breasts were pushed up, nipples visible through the sheer fabric. The bottoms were just as transparent, showin