

Claimed by My Bestie's Alpha Daddy
When you're homeless after catching your BF and BFF together, the next time you see them, they're screaming in public, your hot billionaire fiancé casually wraps an arm around you and says to your BFF: "Jenny, watch your mouth in front of your new mom... and your future little brothers." Jenny: 😱Dad!? Ex-BF: 🤡Chapter 1
Text: Your student loans are about to default.
If I miss another payment, I lose my spot at The University.
But every single job interview I go in for, the interviewer just snaps, "How did this Wolfless even get past security?"
That one word—wolfless—undoes everything else.
It shows up on my CV and suddenly my entire application is invisible.
Jenny, my best friend and the Alpha King's daughter, invited me to work as a server at the mating ball after she heard about my situation.
When I took the job, Jenny had grinned and said, "Most of the unmated Alpha heirs are coming tonight—you never know, maybe you'll meet someone."
But we both knew it was just a joke—I was already mated.
So here I am, in this fancy ballroom, carefully laying out the overpriced desserts Jenny ordered from her private pastry chef onto the dining table, just like I was assigned to do.
And just then, Jenny made her entrance—sweeping into the ballroom in a red evening gown.
Within seconds, guests were drifting toward her like she had her own gravitational pull.
She greeted each of them with that sugar-sweet smile she'd perfected ages ago, even if she forgot their name the second they walked away.
It's still kind of wild that we ended up friends, though I guess that was due to us being classmates.
I didn't want to interrupt Jenny, so I decided to head to the kitchen to help out instead.
But then Jenny called out to me—clear and bright, like she wanted people to hear—and instantly, heads turned.
All at once, the room seemed to freeze.
A wolfless girl, in a server's uniform, getting called over by the Alpha King's daughter?
You could feel the confusion ripple across the crowd.
People stared. Whispered. Some barely masked their surprise.
I wasn't surprised, I was almost used to it by now.
But Jenny didn't seem to care—and that meant more to me than I expected.
She took my hand and pulled me aside to talk.
"Can you believe Stacy actually came up to me and tried to start a conversation? Like everything's fine? Unreal."
I was a little thrown—wasn't she just chatting with Stacy like everything was fine?
But then Jenny clarified, and suddenly it made more sense.
"Do you know what she did last time? She actually asked me for my dad's phone number! Her Alpha father's pack is tiny, and she thinks she could become my new stepmother?"
"But come on, King Richard's been divorced and single for years—can you really blame Stacy? I mean, he just got voted Sexiest Alpha again, didn't he?"
Jenny's smile faded instantly.
She wasn't just venting—she wanted backup.
She wanted me to hate Stacy too, to treat her like some mutual enemy just because Jenny did.
"What do you mean by that? Do you think my dad should be with Stacy? He's single because he's still in love with my mom! I've told you, I am not letting any of my friends get involved with my dad!"
I was very familiar with Jenny's intense "protectiveness" over King Richard.
She once had a very close friend who tried to flirt with Richard, and when Jenny found out, she immediately cut all ties with her.
I mean I totally get why that would bother her, but if you've seen Richard, you'd understand why those crazy girls act the way they do.
He's the most attractive man I've ever seen.
"I mean, you can't really stop girls from daydreaming, right? Every she-wolf's probably jealous of whoever ends up Luna queen." I said it casually, hoping she'd take it as a joke.
Any woman who becomes Richard's Luna would be envied by everyone.
But obviously, it could never be someone like me.
Sure enough, Jenny's attention shifted. She said, "I really envy you—you found your mate right at eighteen. And a Beta, too. His pack might not be big, but for someone without a wolf, that's kind of a big deal."
Her words sat uncomfortably with me.
Did she really think being wolfless made someone less?
The thought stung, but I didn't say anything.
Jenny, clearly curious, continued, "So how are things between you two?"
I sighed, a little disappointed. "He hasn't replied to my messages in a while. I guess he's just too busy with his new job."
To my surprise, Jenny actually looked kind of pleased, "Is that so? Well, I mean... you can't really blame him."
For a second, it felt like Jenny was actually enjoying my awkward situation—but I shook the thought off.
Maybe I was just reading too much into it.
As two she-wolves passed by, I caught them whispering about a "handsome young man."
They didn't say who, but something in their tone piqued my curiosity.
I found myself turning to look.
That's when I saw him.
Adam.
My mate. A boy from my college, tied to me by the bond—we shared a wonderful time together, and I worked so hard just to be someone who could stand beside him.
My heart swelled at first. He looked incredible.
Black suit, perfectly tailored. Polished shoes. Collar sharp enough to cut glass.
But then my heart caught in my chest.
I hadn't told him I'd be here.
And yet, there he was—perfect suit, perfect posture, at the center of everything I didn't belong to.
Adam couldn't even reply to a message, but he found the time to dress up and show up for a mating ball?
"I thought you weren't replying because you were busy," I said, stepping forward. "What are you doing here?"
He looked surprised at first, but it disappeared almost instantly.
His expression cooled. "Just... here with friends."
I looked into his face, searching for something—recognition, care, anything—but he wasn't looking at me anymore.
He was looking past me.
And maybe it was just my imagination, but he, once again, deliberately put space between us, as if he didn't want anyone to see us together even though we were fated mates.
"Surprise!" Jenny chirped, looping her arm through mine. "My Valentine's gift to you!"
Right…I almost forgot—it was Valentine's Day.
Still, something didn't sit right.
He reached out to Jenny—but couldn't be bothered to answer even one of my messages?
I couldn't help but wonder if he was ever really here for me at all.
I blinked at her, then at him.
The red of her dress. The red of his tie.
Her hair curled, her makeup perfect.
They looked... coordinated.
And I looked like I'd wandered in from the kitchen.
Jenny's eyes flicked down and found the stain on my shirt.
I saw her notice—just for a second—before she covered it with the same tight, generous smile I'd seen earlier that day, when she handed me the uniform.
"You've worked hard," she said, like a compliment, like it wasn't also a reminder. "I've got a spare dress upstairs—go change and join us!"
Maybe the dress would be beautiful.
Maybe it would make me look like I belonged here.
But I couldn't stop thinking about how I ended up in this shirt in the first place.
Jenny always had a way of making it sound like a favor.
I nodded and followed her instructions.
The second-floor hallway was quieter than the rest of the house.
The room she sent me to was still lavish, but in a completely different way.
Gone were the jewel-toned silks and eye-catching flourishes Jenny loved to flaunt downstairs.
Instead, the space was layered in gold wallpaper, soft-toned furnishings, and delicate lace curtains.
It exuded a calm, confident elegance—understated but undeniably expensive.
The bed alone probably cost more than my student loans.
This wasn't Jenny's style. Not even close.
There was something almost unsettling in how different it felt—more mature, more grounded, like the person who put this room together actually cared about balance and atmosphere.
I lingered in the doorway for a second, taking it all in.
A glittering chandelier overhead, the soft hum of distant music from downstairs, the faint scent of sandalwood clinging to the room like a memory.
None of this felt like mine.
I stepped inside and let the door click shut behind me.
There was a suitcase at the foot of the bed, half-unzipped.
Button-up shirts stacked inside—crisp, immaculately pressed, and definitely not Jenny's.
I hesitated. Her room? Maybe not.
But the dress was right there, hanging neatly on the back of a chair.
I took one step, then another.
Then the bathroom door swung open.
Steam rushed out into the room, thick and hot and immediate.
The temperature jumped several degrees.
The scent hit next—cedar and skin and something faintly metallic, like heat over stone.
I could hear the water still dripping.
I could almost taste the steam in the air, dense and clinging.
For a moment, everything blurred, then the haze started to clear, and I saw him.
The last thing I expected to see.
A half-naked man, wrapped in nothing but a towel, with the most defined muscles I'd ever seen.
It was Richard. King Richard.
Chapter 2
The instinct to scream was there—lodged somewhere behind my teeth—but it was like the rest of me had short-circuited.
Every reflex froze.
His muscles were carved, like someone had sculpted them out of stone and left them slick and glistening.
Defined forearms, taut stomach, the faint dip between his hipbones where the crisp, white towel began.
But it was his hands—veined, precise, impossibly strong-looking—that held me hostage.
Water dripped from his jaw, trailing down his chest.
I followed the drops—over his pecs, down the ridges of his abs—until they disappeared into the soft white terrycloth.
I could feel the heat crawling up my neck, into my cheeks.
"Think you've seen enough now?"
My head snapped up. My body reengaged.
And then—oh no.
Oh god, it was Richard. King Richard. My best friend's father.
Gorgeous, aloof, incredibly off-limits, Richard.
He scowled. "How the hell did you get in here? This is a private room."
I could tell he didn't recognize me, which disappointed me somehow.
I opened my mouth but no sound came out.
I met Richards sharp, questioning eyes, the shame of being caught like that, of having just ogled the King of the Werewolf Kingdom, hit me all at once.
I fumbled for something—anything—to say, but he was already looking me up and down.
His eyes landed on my stained uniform.
I wanted to disappear into the floor.
I hated that this was how he was seeing me—creased shirt, smudged apron, cheap fabric clinging in all the wrong ways.
I hated the way I looked even more under the weight of that stare.
It wasn't just that I felt small—it was that I felt disposable.
Like background noise.
Like someone he'd forget existed the second he walked away.
And the worst part? He wouldn't be wrong.
Not even when Adam had seen me like this—sweaty, tired, underdressed—had I felt this exposed.
With Adam, I'd felt like I could brush it off.
With Richard, I couldn't even breathe.
"Don't tell me you're the maid service that I didn't order," he said flatly. "Coming in here to clean up? I've had enough of these tricks."
Tricks?
"I—I'm not—" I stammered, my throat dry. "Jenny told me to come here. She said I could change in this room. I didn't know anyone would be in here. I swear."
He didn't respond right away.
Just stared, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
The weight of his gaze made my skin prickle.
"And you didn't think to knock?"
"I thought it would be empty," I blurted. "I didn't even think—God, I wouldn't just walk in if I knew—"
He stepped forward and it was like being hit with a wave.
Patchouli. Peppermint. Clean skin and heat and power.
I swayed slightly under the weight of it all.
My body wasn't listening to me.
My mind was struggling to form coherent thought.
Not that it ever had, not around him.
Ever since I was fifteen and saw him for the first time in person I hadn't been able to look him in the eye.
Not for more than a second.
He'd been handsome then, intimidating in that distant, untouchable way.
But now? He was older, sharper, more carved from stone than flesh.
He carried a kind of gravity that made everything inside me tilt.
Not even Adam made me feel that way.
I looked down, away from his eyes. "J-Jenny," I stammered. "She sent me up here to change. For the Ball. She didn't say anyone else would be... here."
He tilted his head slightly, those steel-blue eyes narrowing.
"Jenny? Changing clothes?" He took a breath, then nodded slowly, the barest shift in his expression softening his scowl into something closer to amusement. "You better not be lying."
Then, with a flick of his fingers, he gestured toward the closet. "Get changed. You've got two minutes."
He disappeared back into the bathroom and I exhaled for what felt like the first time.
The dress Jenny had left was easy enough to find.
Blue satin, elegant but clingy.
It slipped over my hips with ease, cool against my skin, whispering promises I wasn't sure I wanted kept.
I tugged it into place and reached around to zip the back—
Stuck.
I twisted, pulled, tried again. Nothing.
Too tight in the bust. Of course.
I glanced at myself in the mirror and flinched.
The dress clung in ways that didn't feel like flattery.
My arms looked soft. My stomach had lines I didn't want to see.
My makeup was melting.
My hair—ugh, the humidity had ruined it hours ago.
The old uniform I'd been wearing was still lying in a heap on the floor, and for a second I actually missed it.
At least that shirt had felt like armor.
This dress felt like a dare.
I left my phone downstairs. My zipper was jammed.
And now I was standing here, half-dressed, red-faced, and utterly failing to disappear into the wallpaper.
That's when the bathroom door swung back open.
I took one step back, then another, as he stepped out of the bathroom.
Steam drifted into the bedroom as he emerged—dressed now, but somehow even more dangerous like this.
His white shirt clung slightly to his chest from the residual dampness.
The scent of him hit me again, stronger than before.
I could almost taste it—peppermint and something wilder, something that buzzed at the base of my skull.
He stopped a few feet away, his eyes locking onto mine, then trailing lower.
I tried to speak but the words wouldn't form.
"Do you think you could, uh—" I cleared my throat, gesturing weakly behind me. "Could you help me with the zipper?"
He nodded once and stepped forward.
Every movement was measured, intentional.
He circled behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him.
His fingers brushed my lower back and then paused.
I stiffened, he hesitated, and then I remembered. The mark.
The neckline of the dress dipped low. Too low.
It revealed the faint crescent scar just beneath my collarbone—the bond mark that tied me to Adam.
I felt, more than saw, the change in Richard.
His voice dropped to a murmur. "You already have a mate?"
I turned slightly, just enough to glimpse his expression.
Confused. Tense. Like something was clicking into place he hadn't expected.
Why was he asking that? Did he know something I didn't?
Was that disappointment?
His jaw worked, like he was biting back a thousand words.
But none of them came.
Instead, he reached for the zipper again, more gently this time.
The back of his hand brushed my spine.
My breath hitched.
A memory struck me then. Not a huge one—just a flicker.
The first time Adam had kissed me.
We'd been lying under the bleachers after some school event, and he'd reached over and touched my hair and said something sweet and awkward.
His hand wandered toward my spine as our lips met.
When he kissed me, I remembered thinking it was... nice.
Familiar. Comfortable.
This wasn't that.
This was nothing like that.
His fingers tugged the zipper again.
The satin shifted and tightened against my chest.
My skin felt too hot, too bare.
Still stuck.
His hand came to rest on my waist for balance.
I could feel every one of his fingers, steady and warm through the thin fabric.
He leaned in and his breath traced the edge of my neck.
"Now," he said, voice like velvet wrapped in something sharper, "I'm going to give you one more chance. Are you sure my daughter sent you in here with this dress?"
I thought I might melt. Or faint. Or combust.
My knees buckled.
His arm caught me, again—strong and sure.
I pressed my hands against his chest to steady myself.
Too late. I was already dizzy.
That's when we heard it.
"Girl, what is taking so long to get changed?"
Jenny.
Chapter 3
Luckily, Richard's instincts were razor-sharp.
The second Jenny stepped into the room, we returned to a normal, painfully platonic distance, like nothing had just happened.
Like he hadn't nearly sent me into cardiac arrest over a zipper.
Before Jenny could even get a word out, Richard's voice cut through the room like a whip.
"Jenny, did you send this girl in here to change for your ball?"
Jenny blinked, caught off guard. "Yeah. My room's a disaster. The good-for-nothing closet hand hasn't cleared out last season's fashion graveyard yet."
My eyes swept the room again.
Oh. Oh no.
This wasn't just any guest room, this was Richard's room.
Suddenly, the air felt tighter in my lungs.
Something about realizing I'd been half-naked in his private space made my skin crawl with a kind of embarrassment I couldn't shake.
My heart knocked against my ribs.
"I don't appreciate you sending your friends into my space just because you have an aversion to wearing a single item of clothing more than once," Richard said sharply.
Jenny rolled her eyes. "That's not the point, Dad. I didn't know you were already here. I was literally just on the phone with you. If you had just told me you were here, this wouldn't have happened!"
I felt a stab of guilt. "I should've checked before walking in," I muttered. "I should've—"
But I knew it was irrational.
Richard never actually got mad at Jenny. Not really.
I'd seen her get away with far worse.
Jenny, of course, pivoted the second she remembered I was still standing there. "And Amelia isn't just 'one of my friends,'" she said, clearly annoyed. "She's my best friend. You've seen her, like, several times."
Richard looked at me again, really looked.
His posture shifted slightly, like something just clicked. "Oh. You… you're Amelia."
Richard
When I first saw her, all I saw was another excuse.
Another woman angling for proximity, for power, for a photo to post.
I didn't buy a word she said, and I didn't care to.
Until I did.
Until she turned toward me, and I got a proper look at her face.
And something inside me… shifted.
My wolf stirred, Storm. He was always louder when I least wanted him to be.
"That's her," Storm growled inside of me. "That's our second chance."
It didn't make sense, there was no obvious mate pull.
No lightning bolt of clarity.
It was nothing like the first time.
But the longer I stood there, the louder Storm became.
When she asked me to help zip her dress, I ignored the voice in my head.
I told myself it was a mistake, a glitch, some residual pheromone confusion.
"Touch her," Storm hissed. "You'll see."
I did and I felt it.
It was faint, but there.
The first whisper of a bond.
And then I saw it, the mark of another bond already in place.
"She's taken", I spat to Storm bitterly.
"But wrong," Storm insisted. "It's not real. Not like us."
Sometimes, I could sense mate bonds in others.
And hers? It was weak.
Like a radio station barely tuned.
The frequency was all wrong.
Still, it was enough to confuse me. And infuriate me.
"This isn't how this works," I told my wolf.
"But it is," Storm countered. "You just don't want it to be."
I looked at her again. Really looked.
The same dress she'd seemed to loathe in the mirror?
I could've worshipped her in it.
Her skin flushed from the heat, the neckline skimming just beneath her collarbone, the way the fabric dipped over her waist, hugged her hips.
Every instinct I had screamed to pull her closer.
"Don't." I warned myself.
"You want to. She's right there. She smells like—"
Enough.
Storm growled low in the back of my mind, sulking.
Then came the realization. My second chance mate… was my daughter's best friend.
I wanted to laugh. Or punch something.
I'd been through the painful dissolving of the first bond, the pain of seperation.
And now—now fate offered me this?
A tether to someone I was absolutely not allowed to want?
"You going to run from this too?" Storm said, quieter now.
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
My hands were clenched at my sides. My jaw tight.
I couldn't decide if I was angrier at myself or the universe.
Storm surged inside me with all the urgency of a siren.
And for the first time in years, I didn't know what to do.
My second chance. My daughter's best friend.
And all I could do is watch them walk away together.
Amelia
Jenny looked at me with the expression she always made when she was about to ask a favor without really asking.
"I lost one of the serving girls," she said with a sigh. "Mitchell sort of made her an offer she couldn't refuse…"
I knew what she was doing.
"I'll go," I said before she had to actually ask.
Jenny lit up like I'd just handed her a glass of champagne.
She looped her arm through mine and said, "You're the best. I'll make sure everyone tips you big."
The ballroom was buzzing when I walked in, but one face stopped me in my tracks.
Adam.
Standing beside Jenny. Smiling, laughing, leaning in like they shared every inside joke in the world.
I paused, just for a second.
Of course they were close.
They'd known each other nearly as long as I'd known her.
But still. I felt something twist in my stomach.
Something sharp.
But I pushed it down. It didn't mean anything.
Still, I couldn't shake the image of how good they looked side-by-side.
I grabbed a tray of drinks and started making my way through the crowd.
Every time I passed their table, I felt invisible.
Like a ghost in an apron.
I hated that I wasn't sitting next to him, wasn't laughing with him.
Wasn't even acknowledged.
The lights were too bright. My feet hurt.
Someone snapped at me for champagne, and I wanted to scream.
Then I felt a hand on mine.
"Are you wolfless?"
The guy was flushed, sweaty. Drunk.
Blond hair. Aggressive jawline.
Button-down shirt opened too far.
He looked like his name might be Chad. Or Logan. Or Ford.
Something that came with a yacht and a smug smirk.
"I heard you guys get drunk faster," he said. "Is that true?"
His hand slid down my back. Too far down my back. "C'mon. Have a drink with me."
"I'm working," I said, stiffening.
"Don't be rude. You want to embarass me in front of my friends?"
I looked toward Adam. Nothing.
He was talking to Jenny, laughing like I wasn't there.
Jenny stepped in. "Hey, Amelia's helping me out. Don't be rude."
He leaned down and whispered something to her.
Jenny turned to me. "Okay, awkward, but—he says he didn't mean anything. And he's willing to tip you really well. Like, ridiculously well. If you just have one drink."
I blinked. "Seriously?"
Jenny gave me a sheepish look. "You're always saying you need rent money. I told him to make it worth your time."
I really did need the money if I was going to pay my rent this month.
My mouth was dry. "Fine. One."
The drink he handed me wasn't wine.
It was dark. Bitter. Strong.
I coughed but kept it down. My vision fuzzed slightly.
He smirked. "Not bad, right?"
He poured another. "Double this time."
"I really shouldn't—"
"Don't worry. You're safe with me."
I hesitated and his hand was back on my waist, lingering too long.
I drank.
It burned, and this time, the haze came faster.
My limbs went heavy, my thoughts slowed.
He leaned in again. "You know, you'd be a lot prettier if you smiled."
I blinked hard, tried to step back.
"Where are you going? I'm being nice. No need to play hard to get."
He reached for another shot.
My head spun and I lifted the shot glass.
That's when a hand wrapped firmly around my wrist.
Richard.
His grip was like iron. His expression? Fury.
And suddenly, I could breathe again.
Chapter 4
Amelia
The second Richard appeared, the room changed.
The drunken laughter died off. The arrogant smirks vanished.
People who had been acting like royalty themselves suddenly remembered who the actual king was.
That's how much power he held—just his presence could silence a room.
He didn't say a word.
Just looked at the table, then the half-empty glasses, then at me.
Jenny beat him to it, voice sharp and defensive. "Dad, why did you come here to ruin the vibes? We're just having fun."
I tried to speak—tried to say I didn't feel good, that I needed to sit down—but the words got tangled in my throat.
Or maybe they came out and no one heard. I wasn't sure.
I wasn't sure of anything, except the heat in my cheeks, the way the ground tilted slightly under my feet, and how heavy everything suddenly felt.
Maybe it was Richard being there. Maybe it was how drunk I clearly was.
Whatever the reason, no one stopped me when I left.
I found a cushioned bench in a quiet hallway and collapsed onto it, pulling off my shoes and letting my head rest against the wall.
My dress felt too tight, my skin too hot, and I couldn't stop blinking like I was trying to wake up from something.
I grabbed my phone and hit Jenny's name.
"Jenny? J-Jenny, you were there, right? I think—I think I drank too much."
She sighed. "Hun, you had two shots. You're fine."
"No... I don't feeeeel good."
"Okay. I'll come check on you in a minute, okay?"
She hung up and I stared at the wall.
I didn't have time to feel abandoned before I heard footsteps.
A shadow, then a voice.
"There you are."
The guy from earlier. Jenny's friend.
The one who had tried to get me to drink.
He was swaying slightly as he walked, eyes glassy and smile too wide.
I still didn't know his name. Chad? Bryce?
Something that sounded expensive and mean.
"You didn't seem so good earlier," he said, crouching beside me. "But I gotta say, you're lookin' better now."
I shook my head, slow and clumsy. "I never drink," I muttered. "I don't... I don't like how this feels. I want to go home."
He laughed, too loud. "That's 'cause you've never been drunk with the right company."
I pulled back. He leaned in closer, the stench of alcohol hanging off him like a second skin.
"Jenny said you're short on cash," he whispered, hands brushing my shoulders. "Come with me tonight. I'll make it worth your while. Say a number."
"No," I snapped, or tried to. It came out soft. "Jenny told you—I have a boyfriend."
He laughed again. "A poor girl like you, still loyal? Cute."
I tried to stand, but my legs didn't work right.
I wobbled, slumped back down.
His hands stayed on me. Crawling. Exploring.
The back of my dress. My thighs. The skin above my knee.
"C'mon," he slurred. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Let's just have some fun."
"Stop," I said. "Please stop."
But it was like my voice was underwater.
He whispered in my ear, his breath sour. "Looks like that stuff worked fast. You'll feel the benefits any second now."
My stomach dropped. Something was wrong. Really wrong.
I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out.
I couldn't move. Couldn't speak.
Everything was too loud, too bright, too much.
I felt him grab my thigh, fingers fumbling at the hem of my dress.
His hand started to lift the fabric and I could feel everything.
Too much sensation, too much noise.
My body was screaming inside, but nothing would come out.
And then—nothing.
He was gone and I was in someone's arms.
I caught three things before everything slipped away: the sound of a punch, sharp and brutal.
The cold marble floor, distant beneath me.
And Richard's face—tense, furious, and scared.
Then everything went black.
Richard
The second the door closed behind Jenny and Amelia, I finally allowed myself to breathe.
But it didn't help.
My chest still felt tight, my skin still buzzed with heat, and worst of all—my wolf wouldn't shut up.
You saw her. Felt her. She's ours.
"No," I muttered, dragging a hand through my damp hair. "She's Jenny's best friend. That makes her untouchable."
Doesn't change what she is.
"She already has a mate."
Not a real one, Storm growled. You know it. You felt it. Weak. Incomplete. But what we felt? That was real.
I closed my eyes, trying to push the conversation out of my head.
I had work to do. Reports to finish. Decisions to make.
I needed to focus.
But all I could see was the way she had looked back at me in that dress—eyes wide, chest heaving, mark exposed.
My wolf was restless now.
You're just going to ignore it? Let our second chance disappear?
My jaw clenched. The phrase made something ache behind my ribs.
This wasn't just bad. It was impossible.
Amelia wasn't just some girl. She was Jenny's best friend.
Practically family.
What would it say about me? What would it do to her?
And Jenny—god, she was already too much like her mother.
Beautiful, stubborn, always surrounding herself with people who only told her what she wanted to hear.
And when I tried to talk to her, tried to step in, I became the villain.
Just like her mother had painted me to be.
You care more about what Jenny might say than about your second chance? the wolf snapped.
I didn't answer.
But my feet were already moving.
I didn't have a plan. Just an unshakable feeling that something was wrong.
The closer I got to the ballroom, the worse it got—a low thrum beneath my skin, a buzzing warning deep in my gut.
I walked in and the crowd froze.
Laughter vanished. All eyes turned to me.
That much, I was used to.
But when I saw the half-empty glasses and the dazed expressions of some of the guests, my teeth clenched.
Jenny noticed and cut me off before I could say anything, trying to play it cool.
But I could already feel my blood heating.
I turned on my heel, jaw locked, and started pacing the hall.
I needed a second to cool off, to think.
Then I saw him.
Down one of the side halls, slumped beside a half-conscious Amelia.
One hand on her thigh. The other reaching for the hem of her dress and all I saw was red.
I don't remember crossing the space between us.
One moment he was touching her, and the next he was flying back, crashing against the wall with a thud.
I didn't even hear the punch—just felt the bone snap beneath my fist.
Amelia was limp, unresponsive.
Her eyes half-lidded, her skin flushed and too warm.
"Amelia," I said, lifting her gently. "It's okay. I've got you."
I held her close and carried her out of that vulture's nest.
She wouldn't be safe here.
Not with people like that circling around.
Immature, selfish children playing at power.
I took her straight to my car.
"Prepare a sedative," I told my Beta over the phone. "And call ahead. Not the Pack House. My estate."
She whimpered when I tried to set her down in the backseat, arms tightening around my neck.
Her breath was hot against my skin.
She shifted, legs wrapping around my hips, holding me in place.
Her mouth was near my ear.
"Please don't leave me," she whispered.
I froze.
The scent of her hair was dizzying—faint rose and something wild underneath.
I rubbed her back instinctively.
"It's gonna be okay," I murmured. "Let's just get in the car."
She moaned, low and needy, and clung to me even tighter.
Awkwardly, I sat down in the back seat with her still wrapped around me.
The driver took off.
She relaxed almost immediately.
Her body slumped against mine, head on my shoulder.
But then her breathing changed.
A different tension rolled off her.
She shifted again. Her hips rocked slightly, grinding against me.
I swallowed hard. "Amelia? Are you alright? Are you feeling sick?"
Her coat had slipped from her shoulders.
I caught it before it fell entirely and brushed my fingers over her skin to steady her.
She leaned up—closer than before.
Her lips brushed my ear.
And without any hint of the shy girl I'd spoken to earlier, she whispered:
"I'm wet."
My grip on her tightened for just a second before I forced myself to go still.
I had no words.
Just heat, and her breath, and the spiraling knowledge that everything had just changed.
And I wasn't sure I was strong enough to stop it.
Chapter 5
Richard
Her voice was barely a whisper, but it hit me like a freight train. "I'm wet."
Time stopped.
My heart pounded, blood rushing everywhere at once.
The air inside the car turned suffocating.
My wolf, Storm, snapped to attention, full of restless hunger.
Now. She's ours, she wants us. Feel her—taste her—make her ours.
I clenched my fists, pressing my head back against the leather seat.
She's drunk. She doesn't know what she's saying.
She knows, Storm snarled. You felt it. The way she clung to you. The way she ground against your thigh. She knows exactly what she's doing.
I forced myself to look away from her.
Her breath was hot on my neck, her arms wrapped around me like she'd melt into my skin.
Her thighs straddled my hips, pressing flush against me with maddening friction.
Every time the car hit the smallest bump, her body rocked against mine.
Each motion sent a shockwave through me.
She's in heat, the wolf said.
"She's drunk," I muttered aloud. "She's not thinking clearly."
She whimpered—an aching, needful sound that scraped against my resolve.
Then she shifted again, her core grinding against the front of my slacks, and I choked on a breath.
She needs you. She needs us. Look at her—look at those thighs, that soft little mouth. Smell her. She's begging you to do something.
I swore under my breath, wrapping one arm tighter around her waist to keep her from falling off me as the car hit another turn.
Her coat slipped further, exposing more flushed, fevered skin.
I tried to adjust it—tried to help—but my fingers brushed bare flesh and she moaned.
A quiet, sweet moan.
Raise the partition, my wolf hissed. No one will know. She already asked for it.
"Shut up," I hissed. "She's Jenny's best friend."
She's ours. Jenny's not who you should be concerned with right now. Amelia is. Amelia, with that tight little dress and that ugly mark that shouldn't be there. That mark is wrong. We should be the one who gave it to her.
My jaw locked.
From the passenger seat, my Beta cleared his throat and sent a mindlink: We can raise the partition if you'd like.
The car stopped at a light. She whimpered again.
"Drive faster," I barked.
I looked down at her.
She was rubbing again, slow and aimless, like her body was moving without her permission.
Her forehead pressed into my neck.
Her breath came in short, uneven bursts.
I could feel the heat of her arousal through her clothes and mine, and I was sure she could feel my growing hardness beneath her.
"I—Richard—" she murmured.
"I've got you," I said, trying to steady myself more than her.
She shivered. "So hot… I feel so hot."
Her hands slid under my coat, gripping my shoulders, holding tighter.
I let her hold on.
Every inch of my body was screaming.
My wolf howled louder than before, thrashing against my mental walls.
Take her. You want her. You've always wanted her. This is your second chance, and you're going to let it slip away?
"She's drunk," I said through gritted teeth. "She won't even remember this."
She will, the wolf said darkly. And so will you. Every second of not touching her. Every sound she makes. You'll remember.
I cursed under my breath. I couldn't take it anymore.
"Pull over," I told the driver.
The car skidded to a stop at the edge of the estate.
Before my Beta could ask questions, I was out of the car, lifting her in my arms.
Her body molded against me like it was made to fit.
She stirred as I carried her. "Where are we?"
"My home," I said. "You're safe."
She blinked up at me.
Her expression was muddled with confusion and longing.
"You're okay," I added, my voice low and soft. "You're going to be okay."
I brought her into my private quarters—my room, the one no one ever entered—and laid her down on the bed.
She looked up at me, lips parted, breathing shallow.
I moved to step back. "I'll give you space to rest—"
Her hand caught mine.
Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated. "Don't go."
"Amelia…"
She sat up, eyes burning into mine.
Her arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me closer.
"I don't want you to go," she whispered.
Then she kissed me.
My heart stopped. My wolf roared in victory.
I kissed her back, and then I couldn't stop.
Her lips were soft and insistent.
She kissed like she needed me to breathe.
I held her, tasted her, let the heat between us rise until I thought I'd explode.
My hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer.
She made another one of those sweet, gasping noises as she settled in my lap.
Her hips rolled once, twice, and I lost my mind.
She gripped my shoulders, nails digging into my back.
I kissed her harder.
Let my tongue slip into her mouth.
Let her taste me the way I'd tasted her.
Her fingers tangled in my hair.
My hands traced the curve of her thighs, her hips, her lower back.
She was everywhere. She was everything.
I pulled her coat off her completely, letting it fall to the floor.
Her skin was hot, feverish.
I ran my fingers up the sides of her torso, feeling the curve of her ribs, the tightness of her dress, the shudder of every breath she took.
She moaned my name. Just once. Barely audible.
I growled.
I kissed down her jaw, to her neck, to the hollow of her throat.
My hands found the hem of her dress again.
Yes, my wolf whispered. Take her.
Amelia
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling.
A chandelier. Ornate, but not flashy. Classic. Elegant.
The kind of thing you'd see in a historical mansion or a magazine about power couples.
Definitely not mine. Where was I?
My mouth was dry. My head pounded.
Every limb ached like I'd run a marathon in heels.
I tried to sit up and winced.
Something was clutched in my hand. I blinked at it.
A man's shirt, what the hell—
Flashes.
Shots of something. A burning throat.
Too many people laughing.
Hands on my back.
That guy's breath in my ear.
Panic.
Oh god.
I jolted upright, nausea curling in my stomach.
Was I in his room?
No. No, no, no.
My arms locked at my sides. My legs wouldn't move.
My breath went shallow.
I forced myself to look to my right, heart pounding in my throat.
And then I saw him.
Richard.
Topless, sleeping beside me, and the mark.
A faint red indentation just below his collarbone.
Like teeth, my teeth.
More flashes.
Heat. Lips.
His hands on my hips.
My mouth on his neck.
The low, guttural sound he made when I bit him.
Oh my god.
I didn't know how far we went.
I didn't remember how it ended.
Did we—
He stirred, exhaling groggily. "What… what happened?"
I opened my mouth, nothing came out.
I didn't know what to say. What I could say.
And then my phone rang. It was Jenny.
I scrambled to grab it. "Hey," I croaked.
"Girl, where the hell did you go last night? I didn't see you after you left the ballroom."
"I—uh—"
Jenny didn't wait. "Anyway, you are not gonna believe this. I just heard that my dad brought some woman back to his private estate. He had the staff get her clothes and everything. He's never done that before. I swear, if she's still here, I'm dragging you down with me to spy."
My heart stopped.
"Oh," I said weakly.
"I'm home right now," she added. "So if you're nearby, swing by. We'll hunt her down together."
Footsteps, getting louder, coming toward the door.
"Dad?" Jenny's voice rang out, muffled through the wood. "Come down and have breakfast!"
I nearly threw my phone across the room.
My heart shot into my throat as I turned to Richard, panicked.
He looked perfectly calm. Unbothered.
Like this wasn't a complete crisis.
"Don't worry," he said smoothly.
Jenny knocked again. "Dad?"
Richard reached over and ended the call on my phone without hesitation.
My mouth opened.
I couldn't even form the question fast enough before he leaned in behind me—his breath warm against my ear—and whispered,
"Be a good girl and follow my lead."
Then—Click.
The doorknob turned.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
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Your student loans are about to default.
If I miss another payment, I lose my spot at The University.
But every single job interview I go in for, the interviewer just snaps, "How did this Wolfless even get past security?"
That one word—wolfless—undoes everything else.
It shows up on my CV and suddenly my entire application is invisible.
Jenny, my best friend and the Alpha King's daughter, invited me to work as a server at the mating ball after she heard about my situation.
When I took the job, Jenny had grinned and said, "Most of the unmated Alpha heirs are coming tonight—you never know, maybe you'll meet someone."
But we both knew it was just a joke—I was already mated.
So here I am, in this fancy ballroom, carefully laying out the overpriced desserts Jenny ordered from her private pastry chef onto the dining table, just like I was assigned to do.
And just then, Jenny made her entrance—sweeping into the ballroom in a red evening gown.
Within seconds, guests were drifting toward her like she had her own gravitational pull.
She greeted each of them with that sugar-sweet smile she'd perfected ages ago, even if she forgot their name the second they walked away.
It's still kind of wild that we ended up friends, though I guess that was due to us being classmates.
I didn't want to interrupt Jenny, so I decided to head to the kitchen to help out instead.
But then Jenny called out to me—clear and bright, like she wanted people to hear—and instantly, heads turned.
All at once, the room seemed to freeze.
A wolfless girl, in a server's uniform, getting called over by the Alpha King's daughter?
You could feel the confusion ripple across the crowd.
People stared. Whispered. Some barely masked their surprise.
I wasn't surprised, I was almost used to it by now.
But Jenny didn't seem to care—and that meant more to me than I expected.
She took my hand and pulled me aside to talk.
"Can you believe Stacy actually came up to me and tried to start a conversation? Like everything's fine? Unreal."
I was a little thrown—wasn't she just chatting with Stacy like everything was fine?
But then Jenny clarified, and suddenly it made more sense.
"Do you know what she did last time? She actually asked me for my dad's phone number! Her Alpha father's pack is tiny, and she thinks she could become my new stepmother?"
"But come on, King Richard's been divorced and single for years—can you really blame Stacy? I mean, he just got voted Sexiest Alpha again, didn't he?"
Jenny's smile faded instantly.
She wasn't just venting—she wanted backup.
She wanted me to hate Stacy too, to treat her like some mutual enemy just because Jenny did.
"What do you mean by that? Do you think my dad should be with Stacy? He's single because he's still in love with my mom! I've told you, I am not letting any of my friends get involved with my dad!"
I was very familiar with Jenny's intense "protectiveness" over King Richard.
She once had a very close friend who tried to flirt with Richard, and when Jenny found out, she immediately cut all ties with her.
I mean I totally get why that would bother her, but if you've seen Richard, you'd understand why those crazy girls act the way they do.
He's the most attractive man I've ever seen.
"I mean, you can't really stop girls from daydreaming, right? Every she-wolf's probably jealous of whoever ends up Luna queen." I said it casually, hoping she'd take it as a joke.
Any woman who becomes Richard's Luna would be envied by everyone.
But obviously, it could never be someone like me.
Sure enough, Jenny's attention shifted. She said, "I really envy you—you found your mate right at eighteen. And a Beta, too. His pack might not be big, but for someone without a wolf, that's kind of a big deal."
Her words sat uncomfortably with me.
Did she really think being wolfless made someone less?
The thought stung, but I didn't say anything.
Jenny, clearly curious, continued, "So how are things between you two?"
I sighed, a little disappointed. "He hasn't replied to my messages in a while. I guess he's just too busy with his new job."
To my surprise, Jenny actually looked kind of pleased, "Is that so? Well, I mean... you can't really blame him."
For a second, it felt like Jenny was actually enjoying my awkward situation—but I shook the thought off.
Maybe I was just reading too much into it.
As two she-wolves passed by, I caught them whispering about a "handsome young man."
They didn't say who, but something in their tone piqued my curiosity.
I found myself turning to look.
That's when I saw him.
Adam.
My mate. A boy from my college, tied to me by the bond—we shared a wonderful time together, and I worked so hard just to be someone who could stand beside him.
My heart swelled at first. He looked incredible.
Black suit, perfectly tailored. Polished shoes. Collar sharp enough to cut glass.
But then my heart caught in my chest.
I hadn't told him I'd be here.
And yet, there he was—perfect suit, perfect posture, at the center of everything I didn't belong to.
Adam couldn't even reply to a message, but he found the time to dress up and show up for a mating ball?
"I thought you weren't replying because you were busy," I said, stepping forward. "What are you doing here?"
He looked surprised at first, but it disappeared almost instantly.
His expression cooled. "Just... here with friends."
I looked into his face, searching for something—recognition, care, anything—but he wasn't looking at me anymore.
He was looking past me.
And maybe it was just my imagination, but he, once again, deliberately put space between us, as if he didn't want anyone to see us together even though we were fated mates.
"Surprise!" Jenny chirped, looping her arm through mine. "My Valentine's gift to you!"
Right…I almost forgot—it was Valentine's Day.
Still, something didn't sit right.
He reached out to Jenny—but couldn't be bothered to answer even one of my messages?
I couldn't help but wonder if he was ever really here for me at all.
I blinked at her, then at him.
The red of her dress. The red of his tie.
Her hair curled, her makeup perfect.
They looked... coordinated.
And I looked like I'd wandered in from the kitchen.
Jenny's eyes flicked down and found the stain on my shirt.
I saw her notice—just for a second—before she covered it with the same tight, generous smile I'd seen earlier that day, when she handed me the uniform.
"You've worked hard," she said, like a compliment, like it wasn't also a reminder. "I've got a spare dress upstairs—go change and join us!"
Maybe the dress would be beautiful.
Maybe it would make me look like I belonged here.
But I couldn't stop thinking about how I ended up in this shirt in the first place.
Jenny always had a way of making it sound like a favor.
I nodded and followed her instructions.
The second-floor hallway was quieter than the rest of the house.
The room she sent me to was still lavish, but in a completely different way.
Gone were the jewel-toned silks and eye-catching flourishes Jenny loved to flaunt downstairs.
Instead, the space was layered in gold wallpaper, soft-toned furnishings, and delicate lace curtains.
It exuded a calm, confident elegance—understated but undeniably expensive.
The bed alone probably cost more than my student loans.
This wasn't Jenny's style. Not even close.
There was something almost unsettling in how different it felt—more mature, more grounded, like the person who put this room together actually cared about balance and atmosphere.
I lingered in the doorway for a second, taking it all in.
A glittering chandelier overhead, the soft hum of distant music from downstairs, the faint scent of sandalwood clinging to the room like a memory.
None of this felt like mine.
I stepped inside and let the door click shut behind me.
There was a suitcase at the foot of the bed, half-unzipped.
Button-up shirts stacked inside—crisp, immaculately pressed, and definitely not Jenny's.
I hesitated. Her room? Maybe not.
But the dress was right there, hanging neatly on the back of a chair.
I took one step, then another.
Then the bathroom door swung open.
Steam rushed out into the room, thick and hot and immediate.
The temperature jumped several degrees.
The scent hit next—cedar and skin and something faintly metallic, like heat over stone.
I could hear the water still dripping.
I could almost taste the steam in the air, dense and clinging.
For a moment, everything blurred, then the haze started to clear, and I saw him.
The last thing I expected to see.
A half-naked man, wrapped in nothing but a towel, with the most defined muscles I'd ever seen.
It was Richard. King Richard.
Now I have to decide: scream and run, pretend I didn't see anything, or ask him to help me zip the dress Jenny gave me.
