Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Biker Alpha Who Claimed Me Again: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Prologue Athena I can’t breathe. The weight of him presses me into the mattress, solid and scorching, and my lungs forget how to work the moment Tristan Blackwood moves inside me. Slow. Deliberate. Like he’s marking territory he’s always known belonged to him. My biker Alpha. My mistake. My ruin. The leather of his cut lies discarded somewhere on the floor, but the smell of him clings to the room engine oil, smoke, pine, and wolf. His hands grip my thighs like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go, lifting one leg over his hip as he pushes forward again. I gasp, fingers clutching the sheets. Grief hollowed me out today. Dug a pit so deep I thought I’d fall in and never climb out. And now he fills it with heat, with need, with a connection that feels too real to be happening. Moonlight spills through the open window, silvering the planes of his body. Sweat glistens across his chest, tracing the scars he earned on roads, in fights, and battles he never speaks of. His dark hair

Athena The bond doesn’t roar to life. It snaps. Sharp and sudden, like a chain pulled tight around my chest, dragging every breath from my lungs. My knees threaten to buckle as Tristan’s grip steadies me, his hand firm around my wrist, grounding and unyielding. The world narrows to him. His scent floods my senses smoke, leather, rain soaked earth, and the unmistakable power of an Alpha who has survived too many wars. My wolf slams against her cage, frantic and furious, demanding answers. Demanding him. “You feel it,” he says quietly, not a question. I wrench my hand from his grasp, stepping back even though every instinct screams not to. “Feeling something doesn’t mean I owe you anything.” His jaw tightens. “I know.” That stops me. Tristan Blackwood has never been known for restraint. Never for patience. Yet here he stands, hands open at his sides, posture deliberately non-threatening even as the bikers behind him shift, sensing the tension crackling in the air. “I didn’t c

Athena The sun is barely up, but the clearing hums with life or maybe it’s just my heartbeat. My wolf thrums beneath the surface, restless, alive, coiling around the bond like a live wire. Tristan doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. The silence between us is electric, heavy with everything we didn’t say in the years I was away and everything he’s never been able to admit. “Move back into the house,” Tristan orders finally, voice low but absolute, the Alpha tone sharp and unwavering. My legs obey automatically, even as my wolf protests. We’re his. Always, in some way, even before he claimed me fully. The Razorback MC moves with precision, clearing the path, eyes sweeping every treeline, every shadow. My pulse hammers. Every sense is on high alert. Even after all these years, I’ve never been around him like this Alpha fully engaged, danger pulsing through his veins, and yet, aware of me. Me. Athena. His mate. The house is a large, rugged structure, surrounded by reinforced fencing an

Athena The bond doesn’t let me sleep. It hums beneath my skin like a living thing, coiled and restless, feeding me awareness that isn’t entirely mine. Tristan’s presence presses against my senses even when he isn’t touching me heat, power, vigilance. As if part of him stands guard inside my chest, pacing. I wake before dawn, breath shallow, wolf alert. Something is wrong. The house is too quiet. Not peaceful held. Like the moment before a storm breaks. I slip out of bed carefully, bare feet silent against the cool floor. Tristan sleeps sprawled on his back, shirtless, scars etched across his skin like a map of every war he’s survived. Even asleep, he radiates danger. His wolf stirs as I move, a low warning ripple through the bond. I pause. He doesn’t wake. That alone is unsettling. Tristan Blackwood doesn’t sleep deeply. Ever. I reach for the door just as the bond spikes sharp, urgent. Enemy. Before I can react, Tristan is on his feet, grabbing me and sho

Athena The world is fire. Not the gentle warmth of the bond when it hums low and steady. Not the slow ache of longing that’s haunted my dreams for five years. This is something else entirely raw, violent, all consuming. An inferno tearing through everything in its path. Tristan. I feel him before I see him, before the smoke thins or the screams sharpen into meaning. His presence slams into the compound like a living force, Alpha power unleashed without restraint, without apology. It rolls through stone and steel alike, bending the air, cracking foundations. The walls tremble. Concrete fractures, spiderwebbing outward. Wolves howl some in fury, some in fear. My wolf surges up hard and fast, claws scraping at my skin from the inside as she reaches for him. The half-formed mark at my throat burns, a searing brand beneath my flesh, glowing faintly gold as it pulses in time with his heartbeat. He’s close. So close. Then he’s there. Tristan crashes through the fina