MILLIE-ROSE'S POV

What's going on here? The question echoed in my head like a sick joke.

What's going on? Seriously? Millie-Rose?

It was glaringly obvious. I just caught my fiancé...the man I was supposed to marry tomorrow...in bed with my stepsister.

And not just any bed. His bed. Our future bed.

"Fuck!" Silas cursed, leaping off her like the bed had caught fire. He fumbled with the blanket, trying and failing miserably to cover his shame.

Meanwhile, Martha lay there unbothered. Completely naked. Her flushed skin was still humming from their session. Disheveled hair. Wrinkled sheets. The smugness on her face made me want to scream.

I stood there frozen, trying to blink the betrayal away. My heart felt like it had been yanked out, shredded, and shoved back in with broken glass.

My boyfriend and my stepsister.

A plot twist so cruel, even the movies I'd starred in wouldn't dare write it.

"Don't you know how to fucking knock?!" Silas snapped.

My stomach turned. Was that really his reaction?

Not "I'm sorry." Not "This isn't what it looks like." But me being the problem?

I stared at him, jaw slack, the words trapped in my throat. My lips parted, then closed. Then parted again. I looked like a goldfish choking on air.

I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.

The tears came first. Slow. Hot. Silent. Then the short gasps followed-like my lungs had forgotten how to function. My fingers clutched my chest, trying to calm the panic building there.

"Is... is that all you've got to say to me?" My voice barely made it out. It cracked. Pathetic. Weak.

Martha laughed lightly. Then lit a cigarette.

Was I invisible to her? Just another audience member to her twisted theater? 

"What do you want me to say?" Silas shrugged, running a hand through his hair, still catching his breath like I wasn't standing there shattering. "You caught me. That should be enough reason to call off the wedding."

"Wh...what?" My voice cracked again. "What are you talking about?"

Nothing made sense. Not the man in front of me. Not this betrayal. Silas wasn't like this. He was patient. Gentle. He respected my boundaries. 

He was the one who suggested waiting until our wedding night after I told him my mom's wish. Who was this cold stranger?

"Would you still wanna marry me after this?" he asked, coldly. "I mean, come on. You're not that stupid, are you?"

My breath hitched.

The conversation from the agency came flooding back.

He doesn't love her... He's only marrying her for the inheritance...

And now, it seemed like he didn't want to marry me at all.

Martha passed him the cigarette. He took a puff like it was routine. My eyes widened.

Silas never drank. Never smoked. Or so he claimed.

Who the hell had I been dating?

"Why do you look so shocked, sister?" Martha asked, slinking closer to him, running her fingers down his chest. "You thought you bagged yourself a decent man, huh?"

I thought I had.

But all I could do now was stand there, crying, trembling, and trying not to pass out.

Martha smiled, her tone turning wicked. "Right now, I bet you feel betrayed. That's good," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Because that's exactly how he felt when he found out you're pregnant... for another man."

Time. Stopped.

Her words echoed louder than my heartbeat.

Pregnant?

I stood frozen. Numb. Barely blinking. Then the air caught in my throat and I gasped like I'd been punched in the chest.

-Breathe, Millierose.-

Then, I laughed.

I laughed so hard I could barely breathe. It came out sharp and disjointed. Not funny, but hysterical.

"You're insane, Martha." I wiped the tears from my eyes. "That's the best joke I've heard all year."

I expected her to roll her eyes. But instead, her smile stretched wider.

"Laugh all you want," she said. "Doesn't change the fact that you're a cheating little whore."

My jaw dropped.

"What are you even saying?! I've never slept with anyone! I'm a damned virgin, you twisted-"

"Sure, keep saying that," she interrupted, flicking ash onto the floor. "But that won't change the test results."

My eyes darted to Silas. He still said nothing. No defense. No denial. Just sitting there like all this made sense.

"You know I'm a virgin," I turned to him. "You know that, Silas. Why aren't you saying anything?"

He shrugged again. "You sure about that?"

I nearly screamed.

Was he really asking me that?

Was this a nightmare? Had I passed out and my brain decided to torture me?

"You should be thankful you're my sister," Martha said smugly. "That's the only reason I haven't told the world. But push me, and your career will be finished before you can say cover girl."

That did it.

Messing with my heart? One thing. Messing with my future? My career? Hell no.

"Let's take a test then," I challenged, voice steady despite the tremble in my hands. "If I'm pregnant, I want to see it for myself."

"Great," she said, smug as ever. "Let's go to Dr. Saint right now."

****

"Congratulations, Ms. Millie-rose Harvey," Dr. Saint said softly, avoiding my eyes. "You're seven weeks pregnant."

Did he just say, "congratulations?" What was he congratulating me for?

The room spun. I didn't breathe. I couldn't.

Laughter spilled from Martha. Loud. Victorious. Ugly.

I gripped my dress, knuckles turning white, as I tried to stay upright. My throat burned with the scream I was holding back.

"H-how...? I've never had..." My voice broke.

My world was crumbling and I didn't have a single tool to stop it.

"I guess you're Virgin Mary now," Martha said. "Except, you know... cheaper." She scoffed, "Virgin Millie."

Dr. Saint tried to soften the blow. "It's possible you were drugged, Millierose. Maybe you don't remember..."

"Or she's just a sneaky bitch trying to trap me," Silas spat.

That was it.

"No. This is wrong," I gasped. "There has to be a mistake. This isn't possible."

"I assure you, the results are accurate," Dr. Saint said gently.

I wasn't listening anymore.

I snatched my bag. "I'll get tested somewhere else. A real hospital."

Doctor Saint's jaw twitched. 

Good.

I turned to leave, heart pounding and vision blurry...only to stop dead in my tracks when the door opened.

First, a nurse walked in.

And then him.

Tall. Intimidating. Broad shoulders draped in a brown fur coat that kissed his sculpted physique just right. Veins crawling up his hands like a living sculpture. Perfectly chiseled face framed by long black curls slicked back. Cold grey eyes. Trimmed beard. Towering presence.

He didn't speak, but the room shifted around him like gravity bowed in his favor.

My lungs forgot how to function.

Then-he looked at me. A full-body sweep of disgust and scrutiny. His upper lip twitched in a snort.

"Please tell me she's not the one carrying my child."

MILLI-ROSE'S POV

"What?" I blinked in confusion, my voice shaky. I was utterly lost by his words and low-key terrified by the fury laced in them.

"It's not her, is it? It better not be," he repeated, his deep growl slicing through the room. His eyes were glowing...yes, actually glowing and the intensity in them chilled my blood.

Involuntarily, I took several steps back, away from the storm brewing in his body.

Who the hell is this man?

Why does he look like he just crawled out of some supernatural mafia fantasy?

Whatever or whoever-he was, I didn't want to know. I couldn't afford to be curious, not even a little. Men like him were to be admired from afar. Not touched. Not approached. Definitely not... involved with.

Those beastly eyes? They'd burn every ounce of peace out of your life. Unapologetically.

Besides, I had enough problems right now.

"Please, excuse me," I said stiffly, trying to slip past him. More like run past him.

But a strong, calloused hand grabbed my arm, yanking me back like I was weightless.

"Is she the one? Yes or no? Dammit!" he snapped again. 

My body jolted from the sheer force of his voice. His eyes bore into me, and the heat of his touch on my arm felt like it would leave a permanent brand.

"Ye..." the nurse stuttered behind him.

My eyes widened. My stomach dropped.

"Yes, she is."

"No, I'm not!" I blurted out, yanking my arm back, breath trembling. "You've got the wrong person, I swear. Please, let me go."

I sounded pathetic, practically pleading now. But I couldn't help it...he had the kind of energy that made you feel like the air around you didn't belong to you anymore.

Dr. Saint finally stepped in, his tone shaky but firm. "Sir, what is the meaning of this? Let go of her arm, you're hurting her."

The man didn't blink. Didn't flinch. Didn't even acknowledge him.

Of course he wouldn't. Men like him don't ask. They take.

"She's the one, sir," the nurse confirmed again. Her voice was timid and apologetic, but her words struck like lightning.

The one what?

The one who... what? stole a car? Crashed a plane?

Carries... a child?

My heart thudded painfully.

No. No. No.

This had to be a mistake.

My terrified gaze darted to Dr. Saint, but the look on his face told me he had no control over this either. His expression practically begged for my forgiveness.

"Oh, you sly bitch. So this is him?" Silas's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and bitter. "This grumpy bastard is the one? You sure have a weird taste, Millie."

My jaw dropped.

Their voices rang in my ears like cruel music, spinning a tune I didn't understand and didn't want to be a part of.

He's not the guy. He's not any guy. I don't even KNOW him!

I'm not pregnant!

I didn't cheat!

I don't even want to be HERE!

The answers screamed inside me, but when I opened my mouth, they came out as pathetic whimpers.

"No... no, I'm not carrying his child or anyone's," I said, tears spilling freely now. "This is a misunderstanding. Please... keep looking. I'm sure you'll find the girl you're looking for, but it's not me. I swear...I don't even know you..."

My voice cracked on the last part. His jaw tensed.

Then he turned to the nurse, eyes sharp. "She doesn't know? What do you mean she doesn't know? Wasn't this supposed to be an agreement?"

The nurse visibly trembled. But before she could utter a single word, Silas chimed in again, with that venomous smile.

"So let me get this straight... you knocked her up and now you're playing daddy? Hah! Must be nice. Little slut gets a happily ever after with the Beast of Chicago."

The man didn't respond. He didn't need to.

He just glared at Silas and the tension in the room thickened like a storm cloud.

"I'm calling your father," Silas snarled, whipping out his phone. "He deserves to know his sweet, virgin daughter has been playing house with some oversized mutt."

"No!" I cried, lunging forward. I grabbed Silas's shirt, tears blurring my vision. "Please. Don't call him. Let me figure this out. Just... give me a chance. Please..."

"Get off me, you lying slut!" he roared.

His hand rose. I saw it coming, saw it aim for my face.

But I never felt the hit.

Because that stranger, the terrifying man who had gripped my arm like steel was suddenly in front of me, hand clamped around Silas's wrist.

"If you ever think about hitting her again," he growled low, his voice a lethal promise, "I'll tear your hands from their joints. Crush them. Feed them to my dogs. Do you understand me?"

Silas went pale. Like, corpse pale.

Dr. Saint's mouth hung open. The nurse looked ready to faint. Even Martha had stopped breathing.

All of this... over one man.

I needed to run.

I picked up my bag I just noticed had fallen off my grip and bolted, feet moving faster than my thoughts. I hailed a taxi with no destination, only desperation.

My phone buzzed nonstop, Callie calling, texting, reminding me about the photoshoot. But I was in no state to pose. I turned it off.

I cried silently the whole ride, replaying everything in my head.

The cheating. The lies. The terrifying stranger. The child inside me that I never asked for.

But it wouldn't be inside me for long.

I never consented to it. I didn't ask for this. So I'm getting rid of it.

I found myself at a nightclub. Why there? I didn't know. Maybe because I wanted to drown it all out.

I sat at the bar, head spinning. The bartender recognized me, but thankfully, he didn't fanboy. Just gave a respectful nod.

"What can I get you, Miss?"

"Something strong. Really strong," I said, voice brittle but determined.

He studied me, then nodded. A few minutes later, he returned with a glass of thick, dual-colored liquor.

I didn't ask what it was. I didn't care. I just needed it. Now.

But just as I brought the glass to my lips-it vanished.

I gasped.

The strange man was here again.

He downed the drink in one go, slammed the empty glass onto the counter, and glared at me like I'd just committed murder.

"What were you trying to do?" he growled.

I couldn't answer. My lips quivered. Fear warred with... something else. A strange fluttering. His scent... it was addictive. Dark. Expensive. Wild.

"You're trying to kill my baby, huh?" he hissed, leaning closer. "Good thing it's not some flimsy fetus. Booze won't do it. You'd need something stronger. Something life-threatening."

"Who... who are you?" I whispered. "What do you want from me? How did I... how did this even happen? We've never-"

"Alpha Braham," he said sharply.

My brain short-circuited.

Alpha?

Oh God, no.

Werewolves. He was a werewolf?

I didn't believe in their existence even though everyone else in the world said they were around us and lived amongst us.

It made sense now. The eyes. The strength. The aura.

They owned most of Chicago and New Orleans. Most people believed that. They mingled among us-but I had never believed or agreed with them. I was human. I liked being human and I didn't want anything with wolves.

Now I was apparently carrying one.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't even want to breathe.

Maybe if I just stopped...

"Breathe. Now," he snapped, gripping my hand.

Air rushed into my lungs like a dam breaking.

"Let me go..." I whimpered.

"Listen," he said through gritted teeth. "I didn't want this either. I needed a werewolf surrogate. Not some weak human. This disgusts me just as much as it disgusts you. But the child is alive. There's nothing we can do now. So don't even think about hurting it. You give birth, I pay you, and we never see each other again."

Terror gripped me.

But under the fear... that fluttering was still there. Warm. Pulling.

His scent. His presence. It was toxic and addictive.

"This isn't right," I whispered, tears spilling again. "I don't want this. I never... I haven't even had sex. And now I'm pregnant? I feel... cheated."

For the first time, he looked truly surprised.

His mouth twitched into something like a smile...if you squinted hard enough.

He leaned in, his breath brushing my cheek, eyes gleaming with something new. Something dark. Wicked.

"Are you indirectly asking me to be your first?" he murmured. "Because if so... I don't mind. I'd gladly take you up on the offer. Would you?"

MILLIE-ROSE'S POV

I didn't say yes to his question, but I didn't say no either.

I probably wanted it as much as he did. That was the only logical explanation for the fact that I followed him from the damn club to a hotel I'd never seen before, with a man I barely knew, and yet somehow couldn't resist.

The door clicked shut behind us, sealing the silence in.

My heart thudded, heavy and uneven, like it was trying to warn me. But if this was a mistake, then I was walking into it willingly barefoot, half-drunk on lust, and breathless from anticipation.

The room was dim, but not dark. Warm shadows danced across the walls from a single lamp near the bed, and yet I could already feel his heat closing in. I didn't need to see his face to know he was watching me... devouring me with those sharp, alpha eyes.

"Alpha Braham."

That name rolled off my tongue like a sin. Like a prayer wrapped in a warning.

He hadn't touched me, not yet. But I was already wet. My body had betrayed me long before this moment. From the club floor, to his goddamn car, to now, every cell in me had been waiting for his hands. 

"You're nervous." His voice...low, dark, and rumbling...cut through the quiet like a blade.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look up and meet his gaze. "You think?"

He smirked, not in amusement, but in hunger. "I can smell it. And I like it."

I hated the way my spine tingled at those words. Hated the way my thighs pressed together like I could contain the ache-when it only grew stronger. Louder.

He took one step forward, and I instinctively stepped back until my spine met the cold wall. I shivered.

"You should tell me to stop," he murmured, towering over me. "Now's your only chance. Because if I touch you, Millie-Rose, I'm not stopping. I won't know how."

His fingers skimmed my cheek, down to my jaw. I gasped softly, unable to hide how badly I wanted more.

"Why me?" I breathed. I didn't mean to ask it out loud, but the question had been burning on my tongue since the first moment I saw him.

His eyes darkened, like the shadows in the room had sunk into him. "Because no one has ever looked at me the way you did. Not in that club. Not anywhere." He paused. "Like you weren't afraid of me. But you should be."

Should I? I had been afraid of him. From the moment I saw him at the hospital, something inside me had recoiled, an animal instinct that screamed danger.

Unless... he just chose not to see it. Or maybe he was blinded by something else. Something more primal.

He kissed me.

No warning. No teasing. No slow build.

Just heat and hunger and a mouth that claimed mine like it belonged there.

His lips crashed into mine, hot and rough, and I whimpered into the kiss as his body pressed fully against mine. Solid. Heavy. Alpha.

His mouth tasted like midnight...dark, intoxicating, wild. Like he'd been starving, and I was the only thing on the menu.

He growled when I kissed him back... really kissed him. Tongue, teeth, breathless moans. He lifted me like I weighed nothing, pinning me against the wall. My legs wrapped around his waist like instinct. Like destiny.

"I've never..." I began, breath catching in my throat.

He silenced me with a thumb against my lips, his gaze burning into mine. "I know." His voice dropped to a growl. "I felt it. The second I touched you. Your body's untouched. But not unloved. Not unclaimed."

He peeled my blouse off slowly, with reverence...like he was unwrapping a treasure he didn't believe he deserved. His mouth never stopped moving down my neck, across my collarbone, grazing the curve of my breasts.

He stared like I was some kind of masterpiece.

"Perfect," he muttered, his hands cupping me gently, like he was afraid I might break. "Every goddamn inch of you."

I couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. I was floating.

Then his mouth closed around my nipple and I gasped...arched into him as a wave of heat burst through me. Wet pressure, then a flick of his tongue that made my spine curve and my hands grip his shoulders.

He moved to the other side, sucking harder, tugging just enough to send a pulse straight between my thighs.

I was soaked. I knew it. I could feel my panties clinging to my skin, wet and needy.

He carried me to the bed like I weighed nothing. Laid me down gently, then stared like I was something to worship.

When he pulled his shirt off, my breath caught.

Holy. Hell.

His body was carved from war. All muscle and dominance and power. There was a thin trail of hair leading from his chest down over hard abs to where...

I swallowed.

His voice brought me back. "Look at me, baby." He hovered over me. "Tell me you want this. Say it, Millie."

I hesitated...not because I didn't want him. Gosh, I wanted him. But this was insane. I didn't even know him. He wasn't safe.

And yet... I'd never felt safer.

"I want you," I whispered.

He growled low and thick, dragging his mouth over mine again. This time slower. Deeper. Like a man claiming what was already his.

He slipped his fingers into my panties and found my slick folds. His breath hitched.

"Fuck, you're dripping for me."

"Do something about it," I whispered. I surprised even myself with how boldly the words came out.

That made him chuckle darkly. "You'll regret saying that, sweetheart."

One thick finger slid inside me... slowly, deeply. I cried out, arching into his hand.

"Easy," he coaxed, voice low and calm. "You're tight. Gonna stretch you real good before I take you."

He curled his finger inside me and hit something that made me tremble. My body convulsed, legs jerking, mouth falling open in a helpless moan.

"There she is," he said, full of praise. "Give it to me."

I shattered with a cry, nails digging into his skin. But he wasn't done. He moved down, mouth replacing fingers, after cleaning the finger with his tongue, he licked me open like I was made of honey. His tongue swirled around my clit, sucking and flicking and dragging me into another climax so fast it left me gasping.

"No...wait... I can't..."

"Yes, you can," he growled, holding my thighs wide open. "You're mine tonight. Every scream. Every shake. Every fucking tear."

I broke again. Harder. Louder. My body trembled beneath him, sweat slicking my skin.

When he climbed back over me, I was wrecked. But hungry.

His cock... thick, heavy, glistening at the tip...pressed against my entrance. He paused, brushing a finger along my cheek.

"Last chance, little star. If I start, I'm claiming you. Even if you don't know what that means yet."

"Claim me," I whispered. 

Where the hell did that come from? But I meant it. Every stupid, dangerous word.

He pushed into me with one deep, punishing thrust.

We both cried out.

It hurt. Sharp and bright. But then... fullness. Stretching. Delicious pressure.

He cursed, pulling back and pushing in again. "So. Damn. Tight."

I held onto him, meeting every thrust, my moans echoing his growls. We moved together like we'd done this before...in another life, in every life.

He tangled a hand in my hair, yanking gently. "Look at me. Eyes on me while I fuck you."

It was the hardest thing I'd ever done. But I obeyed.

We didn't look away.

Bodies slamming. Heat rising. My thighs wrapped around his hips, nails clawing into his back.

He rolled us suddenly, pulling me on top, helping me ride him until my thighs ached and my breath broke into gasps. His hands gripped my waist, then my ass, guiding me harder, deeper.

"You're everything," he groaned. "Mine. Only mine."

He bent me over, one hand at the small of my back, pushing it down against the bed and raising my ass up, he slammed into me from behind. I cried out, legs shaking, eyes rolling.

This position...this...was wrecking me.

I came again, screaming into the sheets, his name tangled in my breath.

He followed...roaring, hips jerking as he spilled inside me. One final thrust. Then silence.

The room was filled with panting. Skin. Sweat. The thick scent of sex and something wilder.

I collapsed onto his chest, both of us still trembling.

And then he whispered, voice rough with something too raw to name...

"I've searched for you in every lifetime, Millie-Rose. And now that I've found you... I'll burn the world before I ever let you go."

That sounded so much like a promise

And yet... it terrified me like a threat.