All Chapters of Bite Me Harder, Alpha: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

“Kieran…” I press my forehead against his chest, breathing him in. “I hear voices. I think… I think it’s her. My wolf. She’s… circling. Like she’s pacing around us right now, checking you out or something.”He goes still for half a second. A low, surprised chuckle rumbles out of him.“Yeah?” He sounds half-amused, half-relieved. “She’s been quiet for a while. Guess she finally decided to introduce herself properly.”I pull back just enough to look up at him again. “You hear her, too?”“Not the words exactly,” he admits, one corner of his mouth twitching. “But I feel her. She’s been brushing against my wolf since the bond started settling. Right now she’s… curious. A little possessive. Circling like she’s deciding whether I’m worth her time.”“She feels… playful,” I whisper, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. “ God, this is so weird. I feel like I’m sharing my head with a nosy roommate who just woke up.”Kieran thumb strokes my cheek again, gently. “Welcome to the club. And ri

“Yes. You were dying,” Elara says, unflinching. “The substances your family put into your body were shutting your organs down. Not the architects this time. Your own father.”My hand jerks in Kieran grip, my fingers tightening before I can stop them.“What?”Elara continues as though she were reading from a report rather than dismantling my entire life.“He has been drugging you since you were thirteen. Slipping suppressants into your food, your drinks, and even the vitamins he insisted you take every morning.” Her gaze sharpens. “He was aware you had werewolf blood in you, passed down through your family but hidden. However, there was more to it than that.”She steps closer. “He also discovered vampire blood in your system. Someone reached your mother while she was pregnant.”Her voice lowers. “Your dad learned about it soon after and treated you like a lab project for years. He took your blood when you were asleep. He tested how the werewolf and vampire parts battled inside you.”My

I’m losing my mind completely, teetering on the edge of every restraint I’ve ever known. From the balcony, I watch Sienna tear through another training dummy like it’s nothing—every move sharp, calculated, and way too fucking brutal for someone who’s supposed to be human. It’s been three days. Three days since she shoved me into that infirmary cabinet, her eyes flickering gold and black, her voice sounding wrong—like something else was speaking through her. And now she’s below me, pretending indifference, as if the bond clawing at our hearts, searing and twisting and refusing to let go, means absolutely nothing. Owen prowls beneath the surface of my awareness, coiling tight against my ribs. Mine. Claim her. Force her to stop fleeing. I grip the stone railing until my knuckles ache and the veins in my hands throb. Her scent rises to me, layered with adrenaline, fury, and a heat that’s entirely hers, impossible to conceal. She’s angry, ignited, and completely unwilling to meet my ga

The door slams shut behind Kieran with a sound that settles deep in my gut like a punch. Just like that, the rest of the world disappears. That weird pull between us thrums under my skin, ragged and needy.I’m still halfway shifted when he crosses the room—black fur prickling along my arms, claws twitching at my sides. Viper’s going nuts inside me, not just pacing but throwing herself against my ribs like she’s trying to bust out.Kieran doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at me like I’m the last damn thing left standing in this shitty world.His eyes burn gold, wild and exhausted. His shirt’s ripped open from the fight, sweat and blood streaking his chest. The scent of blood, sweat, and wolf fills the room.His hand comes up slow, giving me one last out.I don’t take it.When his palms cup my face, his thumbs brush my cheekbones so gently. “Three days,” he rasps. “Three fucking days of feeling you hurt and not being able to do a damn thing about it. Watching you tear yoursel

A few hours earlier, I was in the old storage shed, sandpaper in hand, feeling like some dumb kid with a crush.My heart was hammering harder than it did during that skirmish on the ridge last winter.The bench sat there on the workbench—the one my dad made for Lilian Hart years ago. Freshly sanded, good as new. You could still make out the carvings, simple, clean lines he’d done himself. Over the past two nights, I’d added our parents’ names side by side under the original words, then etched one more line underneath—for Sienna.For the ones who believed the walls could come down.May their daughters and sons finish what they started.Sawdust clung to my palms. I wiped them on my jeans and stared at the damn thing like it might disappear if I blinked too hard.Mom leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, giving me that look—half amused, half like she wanted to shake me.“You’re fussing over that thing like a puppy bringing his first dead rabbit to a girl,” she said, shaking her head. “Hav