The Ruthless Alpha’s Omega Luna
One hand abandons my breast, sliding down my stomach, lower still, until his fingers brush against my core through the nightgown.
He groans, the sound reverberating through his chest against my back. "Already so wet for me," he says, his voice rougher now. "Your body knows who it belongs to, even if your mind resists."
In my head, Nyx is practically preening, basking in the alpha's approval. 'This is right,' she insists. 'This is how it should be. Strong alpha, claimed omega.'
'It's just biology,' I argue back, trying to maintain some mental distance even as my body melts against his. 'We're biologically compatible. That's all this is. A chemical reaction. Pheromones and instinct. It doesn't
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