The tension at the dinner table was so thick it felt like breathing through wool. The smell of pot roast and red wine filled the air, a domestic scene so normal it was nauseating. Across from me sat my mother, Samantha, smiling as she recounted the trivialities of her committee meeting. To her right sat the Alpha—my stepfather, my mate, the man who had just claimed me against the front door twenty minutes ago.
I could still feel the phantom weight of him. Every time I shifted in my seat, I felt the slight ache between my thighs and the wetness of his seed, a secret brand hidden beneath my fresh clothes. My mother was oblivious, chatting about pack alliances, while Collins sat there with his perfect Alpha posture, his face a mask of cold stone.
"Collins, dear, you're awfully quiet tonight," my mother said, reaching over to pat his hand.
He didn't flinch, but I saw his jaw tighten. "Just a long day with the council, Samantha," he replied, his voice smooth and steady.
I felt a surge of white-hot resentment. How could he do that? How could he go from being a feral beast to a doting husband in the blink of an eye? I looked down at my plate, my wolf pacing in my mind, snarling at the sight of my mother touching him.
If he wanted to play the role of the dignified Alpha, I was going to make it impossible.
Under the table, I let my shoe slip off. I extended my leg, my toes searching through the shadows until I found the rough denim of his jeans. I felt him stiffen immediately. I didn't stop. I slid my foot up his calf, slowly, teasingly, until I reached the junction of his thighs.
Collins took a sharp, audible breath through his nose.
"Are you alright, Collins?" Mother asked, her brow furrowed in concern.
"Fine," he grunted, his fingers white-knuckled around his wine glass.
I leaned back, taking a slow sip of my water, my eyes locked on his. I could see the gold flickering in his pupils, a warning he couldn't vocalize. I moved my foot higher, my toes finding the hard, heavy ridge behind his zipper. I began to rub, a slow, rhythmic pressure that I knew was driving him insane.
He was already semi-hard—the scent of our encounter in the foyer was still thick in his own nostrils. I pressed harder, my big toe tracing the length of him.
"Nngh..."
The low, guttural groan escaped his throat before he could choke it back.
My mother dropped her fork. "Collins? What is it? You look... flushed."
He glared at me, a look of pure, murderous promise. "Nothing, Samantha. A cramp. I think... I think I need a moment to walk it off."
He stood up abruptly, the chair screeching against the hardwood floor. He didn't look back as he strode out of the dining room toward his study.
"Oh dear," Mother sighed, looking at his empty chair. "He's been so stressed lately." She turned to me, her eyes softening. "Bella, darling, could you go check on him? I need to pull the dessert out of the oven."
I suppressed a smirk. "Of course, Mom. Give me ten minutes. I'll see if he needs anything."
I walked out of the room, my heart hammering against my ribs. I headed toward the study, but as I passed the darkened library, a hand shot out from the shadows. A strong grip clamped around my arm and yanked me inside, slamming the door shut and locking it in one fluid motion.
The room was pitch black, smelling of old books and Alpha musk. Collins had me pinned against the door before I could even gasp.
"You little bitch," he hissed, his face inches from mine. His eyes were glowing like twin embers in the dark. "You think you can toy with me at my own table? In front of your mother?"
He lunged for my mouth, his kiss desperate and punishing, but I turned my head at the last second.
"I only have ten minutes, Alpha," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and triumph. "Mom's waiting for us. What could you possibly do in ten minutes?"
A dark, dangerous chuckle vibrated in his chest. He grabbed my waist, lifting me effortlessly and sitting me on the edge of a mahogany desk, scattering papers everywhere.
"I can do a lot with ten minutes, kitten," he rasped.
He didn't bother with the zipper this time. He shoved my skirt up and pushed my underwear aside, his fingers digging into my hips as he guided himself to my entrance. He was rock hard, throbbing with a need that had been stoked by my teasing under the table.
He entered me with a single, brutal thrust that knocked the air out of my lungs. I bit my lip to keep from screaming, my fingers digging into the leather inlay of the desk. He didn't use any finesse; this was a race against the clock, fueled by the risk of being caught.
The rhythm was frantic. Every time he hit me, the desk thudded against the wall, a rhythmic sound that seemed deafening in the quiet house. I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder to muffle my moans. He was moving like a man possessed, his breathing heavy and ragged in my ear.
"Ten minutes," he grunted, his pace increasing until the world was nothing but a blur of friction and heat. "I'll make... every second... count."
He reached his peak with a violent shudder, his hands nearly bruising my skin as he held me firmly against him. I followed him a second later, my body tightening around him in a silent, soul-shattering climax.
We stood there for a moment, both of us gasping for air, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the mantle. Nine minutes had passed.
With a cold efficiency that made my heart ache, Collins pulled away. He adjusted his clothes, smoothed his hair, and wiped a smudge of my lipstick from his jaw with his thumb. He looked down at me, his eyes returning to their natural brown, though the heat still lingered.
"Let's go," he said, his voice back to its professional, Alpha tone. "We don't want to keep your mother waiting."
I straightened my skirt, my legs shaking so badly I almost stumbled. I followed him back into the dining room, my face flushed and my pulse still erratic.
My mother was already placing three bowls of chocolate mousse on the table. She looked up and smiled as we entered. "There you are! Is everything alright? You both look a bit... winded."
"The stairs," Collins said simply, taking his seat. "I was just telling Bella about some upcoming pack business."
"Actually," Mother said, her eyes sparkling with excitement, "that leads me to the great news I wanted to share."
I sat down, picking up my spoon with a trembling hand. "What news?"
My mother beamed. "I've been talking to the council and the Elders. Since your wolf hasn't made an appearance, Bella, we've decided it's best for you to attend the Lycaon Academy. It's a prestigious school for young wolves to help them master their shifts and harness their power."
My heart dropped. A school? Away from the pack? Away from him?
"It's a wonderful opportunity," Mother continued, oblivious to the look of horror on my face. "It's a boarding school, about four hours away. You'll be surrounded by other wolves your age. It's exactly what you need to become a true Luna one day."
I looked at Collins. He was staring at his dessert, his expression unreadable. He had known. He had known they were planning to send me away, and he had let it happen. Was this his way of getting rid of the "abomination"? Was he sending me to a cage so he could go back to his perfect life with my mother?