Claimed By My Enemy's Alpha Brother

Ericka POV:

"Have you seen Junior?" I asked one of the pack warriors, trying to keep my voice steady over the music.

He shook his head, his eyes already scanning the crowd for someone more important; and tonight is my twenty-second birthday party, which my best friend Candice Knight invited me to stay at the Knight family estate to host a few days ago, but my boyfriend Junior, whom I want to see most, is nowhere to be found

So was my best friend, Candice Knight.

A cold knot formed in my stomach. It was supposed to be the perfect night. Junior had been dropping hints for weeks, his voice low and promising. He told me he had a surprise, something that would change everything.

I knew it was a proposal.

I smoothed down the silk of my dress, my fingers trembling slightly. I scanned the grand ballroom again. No sign of his dark hair, no glimpse of Candice's signature blonde curls.

"He said he was going to the west lounge," I murmured to myself.

Leaving the thrum of the party behind, I slipped down a quiet, carpeted hallway.

The west lounge. It was more of a private sitting area, rarely used during large parties.

As I neared the heavy oak door, I heard it.

A low sound. A moan.

It was female. My blood went ice-cold. I knew that voice.

It was Candice.

My hand trembled as I reached for the doorknob. Faint light seeped through the crack in the door, along with fragmented snippets of conversation.

"She's too naïve, Candice," Junior's voice came, tinged with disdain, hoarse and satisfied, "she has no idea what I really want. Not like you—you're my spark."

"She actually thinks you're going to propose—how ridiculous," Candice giggled, her voice dripping with triumphant mockery. "That fool Ericka—she's not worthy of you at all, Junior. You deserve so much better."

On the plush velvet sofa, Junior was moving, his body slick with sweat, buried deep inside my best friend. They were naked, tangled together in a mess of limbs and raw lust.

His shirt was thrown carelessly on the floor. Pinned to the collar was the silver tie clip I'd given him last Christmas.

In the middle of a guttural cry, Candice's eyes flickered open. They met mine through the crack in the door.

There was no shock. No guilt.

Just a slow, triumphant smile that curled her lips. A smile that said, I won.

I slammed the door shut, the sound muffled by the blood roaring in my ears. I pressed my hand to my mouth, choking back a scream that clawed at my throat.

I stumbled through the hallways, past laughing guests whose faces blurred into monstrous shapes.

I burst out into the cool night air, gasping for breath that wouldn't come. I found my old, beat-up car in the staff parking lot and peeled out of the driveway.

I drove without thinking, until the glittering lights of downtown Los Angeles surrounded me. I pulled up in front of The obsidian tower of the Grand Regis Hotel.

I drifted through the opulent lobby and found the whiskey bar tucked away in a dark corner.

"The strongest you have," I rasped to the bartender, my voice raw. "Double."

He didn't question it. He just poured.

The first glass burned a fiery path down my throat, a welcome pain. I drank another, chasing a numbness that wouldn't come.

Through the haze of alcohol, I noticed a man sitting at the far end of the bar.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and radiated an aura of cold authority that kept everyone at a distance.

Then, his scent hit me.

It was a clean, sharp fragrance of winter pine and cold metal. It cut through the cloying sweetness of the bar's perfume and the sting of whiskey.

I lifted my tear-swollen eyes and met his.

They were gray. Just a deep, unnerving calm. It made me feel strangely safe.

Desperation, fueled by whiskey, clawed its way up my throat. A wild, self-destructive idea took root.

I picked up my glass and swayed toward him.

"Alone?" I asked, my voice a husky ruin. I slid onto the stool next to him.

He didn't speak, just gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. His gaze dropped to my red-rimmed eyes.

My fingers, acting of their own accord, reached out and traced the back of his hand where it rested on the bar. The skin was warm, the knuckles hard, covered in a light dusting of calluses.

The moment my skin touched his, a strange sense of calm washed over me, quieting the storm inside. I gasped, the sudden tranquility making me pull my hand back.

His body went rigid. His gray eyes darkened, turning to smoke.

"Take me with you," I whispered, leaning close, the words tasting of whiskey and despair. "Anywhere."

The scent of pine intensified, wrapping around me, heavy with an Alpha's dominance that was both terrifying and intoxicating.

He stood without a word, dropping a black credit card on the bar. His hand clamped around my waist, firm and unyielding, and lifted me from the stool.

My consciousness was already fading as he led me from the bar. I was aware only of a hard chest against my back and that incredible, grounding scent.

He took me to the hotel.The lurch of an elevator. The beep of a key card. The dizzying sensation of being tossed onto a massive, soft bed.

Then his mouth was on mine, a punishing, brutal kiss that swallowed my sobs and devoured what was left of my sanity.My last flicker of lucidity, like a dying candle in the wind, flickered out, and I completely abandoned all struggle, letting myself drown in the torrent of sensations, utterly engulfed by his brutal taking.

The next morning, I woke to a blinding headache and a sliver of sunlight cutting across a lavish, unfamiliar room.

I was naked, tangled in sheets of the finest Egyptian cotton.

I shot upright, my heart hammering against my ribs. This was a presidential suite, all dark wood and floor-to-ceiling windows.

Then I heard it. The sound of running water from the bathroom.

Through the frosted glass door, I could see the tall, masculine silhouette of a man in the shower.

My mind was a blank, terrifying void, slowly being filled by fractured memories.

A strange Alpha.