บททั้งหมดของ ALPHA MARRIED A STRIPPER : บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

The mahogany table had seen better days. So had the Thornwell name. Kadence sat at the head of it, fingers steepled under his chin, watching the pack elders argue over his life like he'd already vacated the seat. He was twenty-six. Built like something carved out of granite. And they were talking about him like he needed help tying his shoes. "The pack needs stability." Elder Meredith's voice had the texture of dry bark. She'd been old when Kadence was born. She'd probably outlive the sun. "Your father is... indisposed." *Indisposed.* The word sat in his mouth like copper. A polite way of saying Garrison Thornwell was face-down in his own sick somewhere at two in the afternoon. "The Alpha position requires a mated pair." Elder Tobias didn't look up when he said it. His whole face was one long expression of disappointment. "You cannot ascend without a Luna. That is pack law." "I know the law, Tobias." Kadence's voice dropped low, low enough that the water in the glasses trembled. "

The inside of Ember was exactly what Kadence had expected, and somehow worse. Red and gold light pulsed with the music. The air was thick with sweat and expensive perfume and something cheap underneath it all. Bodies packed the dance floor, moving like they were trying to outrun something. Along the far wall, a bar ran under amber lighting that made every face look like a version of itself that wasn't quite telling the truth. His wolf started pacing the moment they walked in. "Come on." Ronan leaned close to be heard. "You look like you're about to charge someone. Let's get a drink." They found two stools at the bar. The bartender had purple hair and a row of silver hoops up one ear. She appeared in front of them with a smile that had been used too many times tonight to mean anything. "Two whiskeys, neat," Ronan said. "Doubles." Kadence scanned the room. Humans everywhere, their scents tangled together in a mess that made his nose work harder than it wanted to. Their heartbeats w

Asha's POV; The applause was cotton in Asha's ears. She finished her set on autopilot, muscle memory carrying her through the movements while her mind stayed somewhere else entirely. Somewhere back at that moment. That specific, impossible moment when a stranger's eyes had found hers across a packed room and the whole world had just stopped. Like something critical had been pulled out of the machine without warning and everything that depended on it just ceased. She came down the stage stairs on shaking legs that had nothing to do with the six-inch heels she'd been wearing for the past twenty minutes. Backstage smelled the way it always did, cheap perfume layered over cheaper alcohol, hairspray, and the particular kind of exhaustion that clung to women working jobs they'd never planned on keeping this long. It was a smell Asha had stopped noticing after the first six months. Tonight it hit her like she was walking in for the first time. Three years. That's how long she'd been one

Asha stood abruptly, the booth seat scraping against the floor. Ronan said something she didn't catch because she was already moving, her body acting on instinct while her brain scrambled to keep up. He was here. She didn't know how she knew. Only that she did, the same way she knew when a storm was coming or when someone's eyes were on her from across a room. The pull tightened with every step toward the entrance, that invisible rope drawing taut until she could feel it in her ribs. Her hand was reaching for the door when it stopped. Not faded. Stopped. Cut off so cleanly that she stumbled, catching herself against the wall. The warmth was still there, still sitting behind her sternum, but the pull, that magnetic certainty that had felt as real and reliable as gravity, was just gone. Asha pushed through the door anyway. The parking lot sat quiet under yellow streetlights. A couple argued near a beat-up Honda somewhere to her left. A car alarm was going off three rows over. But n

Garrison went very still. Then he started laughing. Deep, gut-wrenching laughter that filled the room and kept filling it, doubling him over, the whiskey bottle swinging loose from his fingers. He laughed until his eyes watered, until he had to brace himself against the windowsill to stay upright. "The Moon Goddess," he managed between breaths. "She really does have the sickest sense of humor." "It's not funny." "It's the funniest thing that's ever happened to me." Garrison straightened, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "My perfect son. My self-righteous, principled son who spent his entire adult life looking down at me for falling for a stripper." He shook his head slowly. "And his fated mate is exactly the same." "She's nothing like Lydia." "No?" The smile turned. "She takes her clothes off for money. Dances for men she doesn't know. Human, I'm guessing. No pack, no protection, nobody standing in her corner." He let that sit for a moment. "That's Lydia. That's Lydi