All Chapters of Bound to the Shadow Alpha: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Before I could let out a scream, an iron hand clamped over my mouth, and a muscular arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me effortlessly off my feet and dragging me back into the suffocating darkness of the alley.​My back hit the wet brick wall. Kael caged me in with his massive frame, bracing one forearm beside my head while his other hand slid from my mouth down to my throat—not crushing it, just resting his warm, calloused fingers directly over my frantically hammering pulse.​Up close, he was devastatingly, cruelly handsome. A faint silver scar sliced through his left eyebrow, his jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, and the intoxicating scent rolling off him—rain, dark pine, and the sharp tang of woodsmoke—completely hijacked my senses.​"Well, well," Kael murmured, his voice vibrating right against my skin. His golden eyes narrowed as they dragged slowly over my pale face, my wide eyes, and the cheap diner uniform peeking out from beneath my soaked jacket. "A little mouse hid

The heavy gold pen felt like live fire between my trembling fingers. Kael stood directly behind me, so close that every deep breath he took brushed his broad, solid chest against my shoulder blades. The intoxicating scent of dark pine, warm skin, and midnight rain wrapped around me like a velvet cage, making my head spin.​"Sign it, Elara," Kael commanded softly. His lips were mere inches from the sensitive skin of my neck, his warm breath sending a wicked, electric shiver straight down to the pit of my stomach. "Give yourself to me, and your brother never has to know what fear feels like again."​I bit my lower lip, trying to fight the bizarre, dizzying pull dragging me toward him. Looking down at the parchment, I pressed the gold nib to the signature line and wrote my name.​The exact second the ink dried, a low, primal groan rumbled deep in Kael’s throat.​Before I could even set the pen down, his large, calloused hands gripped my waist, spinning me around effortlessly to face him.

The master bathroom was larger than my entire apartment. Steam billowed around the marble walls as I stood under the rainfall showerhead, letting the scorching water wash away the alley dirt and the lingering terror of the night.​When I stepped out and dried off, I reached for the only piece of clothing hanging on the golden hook—the nightgown Kael had mentioned.​My cheeks instantly burned crimson as I held it up.​It wasn't a modest cotton pajama set. It was a floor-length slip of liquid black silk, held up by two razor-thin spaghetti straps, with a plunging neckline and a slit running all the way up the left thigh. When I slid it over my head, the cool, feather-light fabric clung to every curve of my waist and hips like a second skin, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.​I can't walk out there wearing this, I panicked, staring at my flushed reflection in the vanity mirror. With my damp dark hair tumbling wildly over my shoulders and my lips still swollen from his kiss on th

The morning mist clinging to the jagged pines outside my window didn't look anything like the mist back in my father’s territory. Up here, deep inside the Shadow Pack’s mountain stronghold, even the fog felt heavy, ancient, and watchful. ​I stood barefoot on the cold slate floor of the turret room, my fingers curled tight around the iron bars of the narrow balcony. Down in the muddy courtyard below, two dozen warriors were sparring. They moved with terrifying speed, shifting mid-stride between human form and massive, dark-furred wolves without a single bark or wasted motion. ​And right in the center of the stone ring stood Kael. ​He wore only black training trousers, his heavy boots caked in grey mud. Even from three stories up, the sheer power radiating off his bare shoulders made my stomach knot. A jagged silver scar cut from his left shoulder blade down to his ribs—the mark of an old silver-blade wound that would have killed a lesser Alpha. When two

A single gunshot shattered the panic in the grand ballroom. ​Sergio Bellini howled as Dante’s bullet pinned the traitor’s right palm straight into the mahogany table, splattering his scotch with crimson. ​"Nobody leaves," Dante commanded, his lethal baritone cutting through the screams. "Enzo, seal the wine tunnel and lock the gates. Anyone who moves dies." ​Reaching beneath the slit of my emerald gown, I drew my silver Sig Sauer from my thigh holster and kicked off my heels. Dante caught my hand as we sprinted into the private service stairwell, pulling me up the marble steps two at a time. ​Thick black smoke billowed across the third-floor landing, carrying the sharp stench of military thermite. ​"Stay behind my right shoulder, piccola," Dante murmured, pressing me against the wall as he flicked off his Beretta’s safety. ​Two masked mercenaries stepped out of the haze guarding the study doors. Dante moved like a shadow, f