“Are you crying?”

The gravel in Dominic Hale’s voice vibrated through the phone, hitting Jess Whitman right in the center of her chest. She choked back a sob, her knuckles white as she gripped the cold metal of the park bench. Around her, the scents of the California night—damp earth, exhaust, and the faint, metallic tang of shifting gears—felt suffocating.

“I dialed the wrong number, Dominic. Go back to your team meetings or your supermodel of the week. I didn’t mean to buzz you.”

“Jess. Where are you?” The tone wasn't a question; it was a command, the kind an Alpha used when he scented blood in the air.

“I’m fine. I’m just—I’m in a park. Near Michael’s place.”

“Why aren't you in Michael’s place? It’s midnight. The Crescent Moon territory isn't safe for a lone wolf after dark, especially one who hasn't shifted yet.”

Jess let out a jagged, watery laugh. “Michael’s currently busy being knotted by some blonde omic-wannabe in his bedroom. So yeah, the park felt a bit more spacious.”

The silence on the other end was heavy, pulsing with a sudden, sharp heat she could practically feel through the speaker. Dominic wasn't just her brother’s best friend; he was the Alpha heir of the Northstar Pack, a man whose presence usually felt like an oncoming thunderstorm.

“Stay put,” Dominic growled. “Don't move a muscle. I’m three minutes out.”

“Dominic, wait—”

The line went dead. Jess shoved the phone into the pocket of her hoodie, her skin still crawling. She could still see it—the way Michael Reynolds, the man she’d thought was her fated mate despite her delayed shift, had looked at that girl. The way his claws had lightly raked the girl’s hips in a way he’d never done with Jess. You’re too fragile, Jess. You’re too human, Jess.

The roar of a high-performance engine cut through the quiet of the street. A black SUV slammed into the curb, the tires screeching against the asphalt. The door hadn't even fully closed before Dominic was out, moving with a predatory grace that made the shadows seem to shrink away from him. He wasn't in a jersey or a suit; he was in a charcoal henley that strained against shoulders that looked wide enough to carry the weight of the entire pack.

He stopped three feet from her, his nostrils flaring as he caught her scent—salt, heartbreak, and the lingering, foul stench of Michael’s cologne.

“He touched you,” Dominic said, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating with a low, sub-vocal snarl.

“He’s an asshole, Dom. It happens.” Jess tried to stand, but her knees felt like water.

Dominic was there in a heartbeat, his hands steadying her. His touch was electric, a searing contrast to the night air. “He’s a dead man. I’ll tear his throat out for this.”

“No,” Jess snapped, finding a spark of her old fire. “He’s not worth the blood on your claws. I dumped him. I punched him. I think I broke his nose, actually.”

A grim, dark smile tugged at the corner of Dominic’s mouth, though his eyes remained stormy. “Good. Your brothers taught you well. But you’re shaking.”

“I’m just cold.”

“Liar.” He didn't hesitate. He stripped off his heavy leather jacket and draped it around her. It smelled like him—sandalwood, rain, and pure, uncut Alpha. The heat from the lining seeped into her bones, making her dizzy. “Get in the car. You’re coming with me.”

“I can’t go home, Dom. Jonathan and Marcus will smell the sadness on me before I even hit the driveway. They’ll go on a rampage, and Katherine’s wedding is in three days. I can’t ruin it.”

“You’re not going to your brothers’ place,” Dominic said, opening the passenger door. “You’re coming to the penthouse. Private territory. No one enters without my say-so.”

Jess hesitated, looking up at him. Dominic Hale was a public icon, the star of the league, a man who lived his life under a microscope, yet he looked at her with a raw, unshielded intensity that made her wolf-less heart stutter. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because he’s a fool,” Dominic whispered, leaning down until his breath stirred the hair at her temple. “He had a queen in his bed and he went looking for a stray. Get in, Jess.”

The drive was a blur of neon lights and the rhythmic hum of the tires. Inside the penthouse, the air was cool and smelled of expensive cedar. Dominic locked the door behind them, the click of the deadbolt sounding incredibly final.

“Shower’s through there,” he said, gesturing toward the master suite. “Scrub his scent off your skin. All of it. I have some clothes that might fit—or at least stay on you if we tie the drawstrings tight enough.”

Jess nodded, her mind numb. She stripped in the marble bathroom, the steam rising to meet her. She scrubbed until her skin was raw, desperate to erase the memory of Michael’s betrayal. When she stepped out, wrapped in a towel, she found a pile of clothes on the counter—a soft, black t-shirt that reached her mid-thigh and a pair of gray sweatpants.

She walked back into the living area. Dominic was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He turned, and his breath hitched. The t-shirt hung off her frame, the neckline slipping to reveal a pale, freckled shoulder.

“Better?” he asked, his voice thick.

“Physically? Yes.” Jess sat on the edge of the oversized leather sofa. “Mentally? I want to set something on fire.”

Dominic set the glass down and walked toward her. He didn't sit; he knelt between her knees, his large hands resting on the cushions on either side of her. The proximity was overwhelming. She could see the gold flecks in his blue eyes, the way his pupils were blown wide in the dim light.

“He told her I was boring,” Jess whispered, the words leaking out like a wound. “He told her he’d been trying to get rid of me for months because I’m… I’m not shifting. Because I’m just a human girl playing dress-up in a wolf’s world.”

“Look at me,” Dominic commanded.

Jess raised her gaze.

“You are Jess Whitman. You have more spirit in your little finger than that entire pack of cowards combined. Your wolf is there, Jess. She’s just waiting for a reason to wake up.” His hand moved, his thumb brushing the line of her jaw. His skin was scorching. “And if Michael Reynolds couldn't see that, it’s because he’s a blind whelp.”

“You don't have to say that, Dom. We’ve known each other since I was ten. You’re supposed to be the objective one.”

“I stopped being objective about you the day you turned eighteen, Jess.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and charged. Dominic’s hand slid into her hair, his fingers tangling in the damp strands at the nape of her neck. He pulled her slightly closer, his face inches from hers.

“Dom?” she breathed, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

“I’ve spent years staying away because of your brothers. Because of the pack. Because I didn't want to be the one to break the peace.” His voice was a low growl now, the sound vibrating in his chest. “But seeing you cry over a piece of filth like him? I’m done being patient.”

He didn't wait for her to answer. He crushed his lips to hers.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was an explosion of suppressed hunger and Alpha dominance. It tasted like fire and desperate need. Jess let out a small, broken moan, her hands flying up to grip his forearms. His muscles were like granite beneath her touch.

Dominic groaned into her mouth, his tongue sweeping past her teeth to claim her. He moved with a sudden, fluid power, lifting her off the couch as if she weighed nothing and pinning her back against the cushions. He climbed over her, his massive frame settling between her thighs, his weight a grounding, delicious pressure.

“Tell me to stop,” he gasped against her throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin over her pulse point. “Tell me to stop now, Jess, or I’m not letting you go tonight.”

Jess arched her back, her fingers digging into his shoulders. The betrayal of the night was fading, replaced by a white-hot sensation that started in her belly and radiated outward. “Don’t stop. Please, Dominic. Don’t stop.”

He growled, a sound of pure animal triumph, and ripped his shirt over his head. His chest was a map of scars and hard-won muscle, the ink of a wolf tattoo sprawling across his ribs. He looked like a god of war, and he was looking at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

He gripped the hem of the oversized t-shirt and pulled it up, his eyes devouring every inch of her skin as it was revealed. When she was bare beneath him, he paused, his hands trembling slightly as he cupped her breasts.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his thumbs circling her nipples until they peaked into hard points. “Perfect.”

He bent his head, taking one bud into his mouth, his tongue swirling and pulling with a rhythm that made Jess cry out. Her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, pulling him closer, needing the friction.

Dominic’s hands slid down, over her ribs, over the dip of her waist, until he reached the junction of her thighs. He found her already slick, a soft gasp escaping her as his fingers made contact.

“Look at me,” he groaned, his voice ragged.

Jess opened her eyes, her vision swimming. He watched her face as he slid one finger inside her, then two. He was slow, deliberate, stretching her until she was sobbing his name.

“Dominic, please. Now. I need you now.”

He reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, kicking them off with a frantic energy that mirrored her own. When he moved back over her, Jess gasped. He was thick, heavy, and pulsing with a life of his own. He positioned himself at her entrance, the tip of him brushing against her, teasing the heat.

“You’re mine, Jess,” he growled, his eyes glowing a faint, ethereal gold. “From tonight until the end of time. Mine.”

He lunged forward, burying himself deep inside her in one powerful stroke. Jess’s head hit the sofa cushion, her mouth falling open in a silent scream of pleasure. She felt full—stretched to her absolute limit, her body struggling to accommodate his sheer size.

He stayed still for a moment, his forehead pressed against hers, his breath coming in jagged hitches. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she choked out, her hips tilting up, demanding more. “Don’t stay still. Move. Dom, move.”

He started to thrust, his movements raw and unrefined. It was a primal rhythm, the sound of their bodies colliding—a wet, rhythmic slapping—filling the quiet room. He was relentless, pounding into her with a force that made the world tilt. Jess held on for dear life, her nails leaving red crescents in his back, her legs locked tight around his hips.

“That’s it,” he panted, his sweat dripping onto her skin. “Take it all, Jess. Take it.”

The tension built, a coil of lightning tightening in her lower belly. She felt the world start to fracture at the edges. Dominic’s pace increased, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, his teeth bared in a snarl of pleasure.

“I’m—Dom, I’m going to—”

“Go,” he roared. “Come for me, Jess. Let me feel it.”

The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her internal muscles clamping down on him in tight, rhythmic pulses. She screamed his name, her body arching off the sofa as wave after wave of heat crashed through her.

Dominic let out a guttural sound, his body tensing as he gave one final, deep shove. He buried his face in the crook of her neck as his own release tore through him, his knot swelling and locking them together in the ancient, biological bond of their kind.

The silence that followed was heavy with the scent of sex and the lingering hum of power. Dominic collapsed onto her, his weight immense, crushing her into the leather. Jess didn't mind. She felt safe. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, a sharp, cold chill prickled at the back of her neck.

Dominic stiffened, his head snapping toward the door.

“What is it?” Jess whispered, her voice still raspy.

“Someone’s outside,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a lethal, low register. “And they don’t smell like your brothers.”

The handle of the penthouse door rattled, then exploded inward as the lock was shredded by a force far beyond human strength. A tall, slender woman stepped into the light, her eyes cold and calculating.

“Well, well,” Vanessa Price sneered, looking at the tangled mess of limbs on the sofa. “And here I thought the little Whitman girl was just a pet. I wonder what your brothers will say when they find out you’ve been marking the Alpha’s territory while the wedding flowers are still being delivered.”

Vanessa held up a phone, the screen glowing. “Smile, Jess. This is going to be the highlight of the pack meeting tomorrow.”

“You’ve got ten seconds to vanish before I snap your spine like a dry twig,” Dominic growled.

He didn’t just stand there; he loomed. His shoulders, thick with the kind of muscle only an Alpha-born NFL star could carry, blocked out the streetlights. Jess Whitman felt the heat radiating off him, a stark contrast to the numbing cold Michael Reynolds had left in her chest.

Michael skidded to a halt, his chest heaving, his expensive pre-med scrubs rumpled. He looked small. For two years, Jess had seen him as a giant, the brilliant future doctor who loved her despite her lack of a wolf. Now, standing next to Dominic Hale, Michael looked like a mangy pup.

“Jess, who the hell is this?” Michael panted, his eyes darting between her tear-streaked face and Dominic’s lethal glare. “Is this why you were in the closet? To set me up? You brought some muscle?”

“I brought a reality check, Michael,” Jess spat, her voice cracking but holding steady. She stepped out from the circle of Dominic’s protective aura, her small fists clenched at her sides. “I was in that closet in lingerie I bought to surprise you. Instead, I got to watch you knotting Vanessa Price. How’s that for a surprise?”

Michael’s face drained of color, then flushed a guilty, mottled red. “Jess, babe, look—it’s a wolf thing. You wouldn’t understand. She’s an Omega, her scent was everywhere, and you… you don’t even have a scent. I have needs that a human-passing girl just can’t—”

Dominic’s hand shot out, his fingers locking onto the collar of Michael’s shirt. He hauled the smaller man off his feet with a single, effortless jerk. The sound of tearing fabric punctuated the silence.

“Don't you dare blame your lack of honor on the Moon,” Dominic hissed, his voice dropping into that low, sub-vocal vibration that made the air tremble. His eyes, usually a sharp, piercing blue, flickered with a dangerous gold. “She’s a Whitman. Her blood is purer than yours will ever be. You’re a bottom-feeder, Reynolds. If I ever see you within a mile of her again, I won’t just break your nose. I’ll make sure you never walk again.”

“Put me down! You can’t do this, I’ll call the Council!” Michael clawed at Dominic’s hand, his feet dangling.

“Call them,” Dominic invited, his smile a serrated edge of teeth. “Tell them you insulted the sister of three Alpha-tier warriors while cheating on her. See who they side with.”

He dropped Michael like a bag of trash. Michael hit the pavement with a grunt, scrambled to his feet, and bolted back toward the apartment complex without looking back.

Jess let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The adrenaline was fading, leaving her hollow. “You didn't have to do that, Dom.”

“I did,” he said, turning back to her. The golden tint in his eyes faded, replaced by a raw, unshielded intensity. He reached out, his thumb catching a stray tear on her cheek. His skin was scorching. “He’s a waste of breath. Let’s get you out of here.”

He led her to the midnight-blue sports car. The engine didn't just turn over; it roared like a caged beast.

“Where are we going?” Jess asked, sinking into the leather seat. It smelled like him—sandalwood, rain, and power.

“My place,” Dominic said, shifting into gear. “The press is all over my hotel because of the photoshoot. My penthouse is the only place in the city that’s truly secure. No one gets in without my thumbprint.”

“Dominic, I can’t stay at your place. If Jonathan or Marcus find out, they’ll lose their minds. They already think I’m too fragile because I haven’t shifted.”

“Let them. I’ll handle your brothers,” he said, his jaw set. “And stop saying you’re fragile. You punched a shifter and stood your ground. You’re a Whitman. Shifting doesn’t make you a wolf, Jess. This does.” He tapped his chest, right over his heart.

The drive was fast. Dominic drove the way he played—aggressive, precise, and completely in control. When they reached the penthouse, he didn't wait for her to open her door. He was there, his hand reaching for hers, pulling her into the private elevator.

The doors slid open to a space that was all glass and dark wood, overlooking the glowing sprawl of the city. Jess walked to the window, her reflection ghost-like against the glass. “Michael said I was boring. He said he’d been looking for a way out for months.”

“He was looking for an excuse for his own weakness,” Dominic’s voice was right behind her.

She turned, and he was there. He hadn't turned on the lights. The city skyline provided the only glow, casting long, dramatic shadows across his chiseled face. He looked at her like he wanted to devour her and protect her all at once.

“Is that why you’re here, Dom? Pity? Taking care of your best friend’s little sister?”

“Pity?” Dominic let out a low, dark laugh. He stepped into her space, forcing her back against the glass. He placed his hands on the window on either side of her head, pinning her. “I’ve stayed away from the Whitman house for two years because of you, Jess. Because every time I saw you, the wolf inside me wanted to claim you. Because watching you with that pathetic excuse for a man made my blood boil.”

Jess’s breath hitched. “You’re serious.”

“I don’t joke about this,” he whispered, his face inches from hers. “I’m the Northstar Alpha’s heir. I have everything. Fame, money, power. And none of it matters if I can’t have the one thing I actually want.”

His hand slid from the window into her hair, his fingers tangling in the strands, tilting her head back. His gaze dropped to her lips.

“Dom,” she breathed, her heart hammering.

He didn't wait. He crashed his mouth onto hers.

It was a collision, not a kiss. It was the release of years of restraint. Jess didn't pull away; she met him with a desperate hunger of her own. She needed to feel something other than the cold ache of betrayal. She needed the fire he was offering.

Dominic groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated into her lungs. He swept her up, her legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. He carried her toward the massive bed in the center of the room, never breaking the kiss.

He dropped her onto the silk sheets and followed her down, his heavy, muscular frame a welcome weight. He was everywhere—his hands, his mouth, his scent. He ripped his shirt off, the fabric fluttering to the floor, revealing a torso of sculpted muscle and old battle scars.

“I’ve wanted this since the day you turned eighteen,” he panted, his teeth grazing her collarbone.

He didn't waste time with words. He stripped her clothes away with a frantic, focused energy. When she was bare beneath him, he paused, his eyes glowing gold again as he took her in. His hand slid down her body, his palm hot against her belly, moving lower until he found the center of her heat.

“You’re so ready for me,” he groaned, his fingers finding her slick and pulsing.

“Please,” Jess begged, her back arching off the bed. “Dominic, now.”

He reached for his belt, his movements a blur of controlled violence. When he moved back over her, Jess felt the sheer size of him, the raw power of an Alpha in his prime. He positioned himself, the head of his cock brushing against her entrance, teasing her until she was sobbing his name.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice a rasp.

She opened her eyes, seeing the gold, seeing the man who had been her silent guardian for a decade.

He drove into her in one deep, punishing thrust.

Jess’s scream was muffled by his mouth as he kissed her again. He was huge, stretching her, filling her in a way that felt like soul-deep completion. He didn't move for a moment, letting her body adjust to the invasion, his muscles corded and shaking with the effort of holding back.

“You okay?” he gasped.

“Don’t stop,” she cried, her nails raking down his back, drawing thin lines of red. “Dom, please, move!”

He began to thrust, a slow, heavy grind that sent sparks of white-hot pleasure through her nerves. He wasn't being gentle. He was claiming her. Each strike was deep, hitting her most sensitive spots, making her vision blur. He transitioned to a faster, more brutal pace, his hips slamming against hers with a rhythmic, wet sound that filled the room.

“You’re mine,” he growled into her ear, his breath hot. “Not Michael’s. Not your brothers’. Mine.”

Jess couldn't speak. She could only feel. The friction was building, a coil of lightning tightening in her core. She threw her head back, her throat bared, her legs locking around his waist to pull him even deeper.

Dominic’s pace became frantic. He flipped her over, pulling her onto her hands and knees. He gripped her hips, his fingers bruising her skin, and drove into her from behind. The change in angle was devastating. Jess screamed, her hands clutching the sheets as he pounded into her, his knot beginning to swell, demanding the final release.

“Dom! Dom, I’m—I’m going to—”

“Give it to me,” he roared, his voice more wolf than man.

The orgasm hit her like a physical blow. Her internal muscles clamped down on him, milking him, as the world exploded in a kaleidoscope of heat. A second later, Dominic let out a primal howl, his body tensing into a rigid arc as he poured himself into her, his knot locking them together in the ancient, unbreakable bond of their kind.

He collapsed on top of her, his sweat-slicked chest heaving against her back. He stayed inside her, the weight of him grounding her, the lingering warmth of their union humming in the air.

Neither of them spoke for a long time. The only sound was the hum of the city and their syncing breaths.

Eventually, Dominic rolled off, pulling her into his arms. He tucked her head under his chin, his hand stroking her arm. Jess felt a strange, new sensation—a low, rhythmic thrumming in her own chest. For the first time, she felt her inner wolf stir, nudged awake by the Alpha’s power.

“You should sleep,” Dominic whispered.

“I don’t think I can,” Jess murmured, though her eyes were heavy.

Just as her eyelids began to flutter shut, a sharp, electronic chime cut through the silence.

Dominic reached for his phone on the nightstand. His face went stone-cold as he read the screen.

“What is it?” Jess asked, sitting up, the sheet clutched to her chest.

Dominic turned the phone around. It was a message from a private pack frequency. A photo of his car parked outside Michael’s apartment, followed by a photo of him carrying Jess into the penthouse.

The caption read: The Alpha’s heir has a new pet. Does the Whitman family know their ‘human’ sister is sleeping with the enemy?

The sender was Vanessa Price.

And below the message, a notification popped up.

Incoming Call: Jonathan Whitman.

“Oh, fuck,” Jess whispered.

“You're finally single.”

Dominic’s words weren't a comfort; they were a claim. The interior of the SUV felt small, thick with the scent of his arousal and the heavy, metallic tang of the predator he kept on a short leash. Jess Whitman didn't move. She couldn't. Her pulse thrashed against the skin of her throat, a frantic bird caught in the sights of a hawk.

“You're an arrogant prick, Dominic Hale,” Jess bit out, though the fire in her tone was damp. “I just watched my life implode. I’ve got Michael’s scent all over me like a goddamn stain, and you’re sitting there doing math on my availability?”

Dominic shifted. The leather of the driver's seat groaned under his bulk. He didn't look at the road. He looked at her, his blue eyes fracturing into shards of gold in the dim light of the dashboard. “I’m not doing math, Jess. I’m stating a fact. That pathetic excuse for a wolf never deserved the ground you walked on. He wanted a plaything. I want a mate.”

“Don't use that word,” she snapped, her knuckles white as she gripped the door handle. “I’m wolfless. A glitch in the Whitman line. You're an Alpha heir. You need a queen with claws, not a girl who has to carry a pocketknife to feel safe.”

“Is that what you think?” Dominic’s voice dropped, a low, tectonic rumble that made the floorboards vibrate. He reached out, his hand wrapping around the back of her neck. His palm was a brand, searing hot. “You think a shift determines worth? I’ve seen Omegas with more bite than Council Alphas. You? You’ve got a furnace in your head and ice in your veins. You’re more wolf than Michael Reynolds will ever be.”

“Let go, Dom. My brothers are probably already tracking my phone.”

“Let them track it. Let Jonathan howl until his lungs burst.” Dominic’s thumb stroked the sensitive skin behind her ear, a gesture so possessive it made her toes curl. “I’ve spent a decade playing the loyal friend. I’ve sat at your table, drank your brothers' beer, and watched you look at every man in the room except me. That ends tonight.”

“We’re at my building,” she whispered, desperate to break the spell. “I’m going up. Alone.”

“The hell you are.”

Dominic killed the engine. The silence that followed was heavy, pressurized. He moved with a speed that defied his size, rounding the car and ripping her door open before she could even reach for the latch. He didn't offer a hand; he reached in and hauled her out, his grip firm on her waist.

“I can walk!” Jess hissed, shoving at his chest. It was like pushing against a brick wall.

“You’re shaking so hard your knees are going to give out,” he growled, ushering her toward the lobby. “Upstairs. Now.”

The elevator ride was a torture of proximity. Dominic stood behind her, his heat radiating through her hoodie, his breath stirring the loose hairs at the nape of her neck. Jess stared at the floor, her mind a chaotic mess of Michael’s betrayal and Dominic’s sudden, overwhelming presence.

The moment they stepped inside her apartment, the air changed. It was small—a student’s place, shared with Emily Parker, who was thankfully out for the night.

“Ice,” Dominic commanded, pointing toward the kitchen.

“I can get my own ice,” Jess snapped, but he was already there, his large frame making her tiny kitchen look like a dollhouse. He grabbed a towel, filled it with cubes, and turned back to her.

“Sit.”

She sat at the small wooden table. He knelt between her knees, a position of service that felt dangerously like a trap. He took her hand—the one she’d used to deck Michael—and pressed the ice pack against her swollen knuckles.

“Fuck,” she winled, the cold biting into her skin.

“Steady,” he murmured. He didn't look up. He focused on her hand, his touch surprisingly light. “He’s lucky I didn't rip his throat out, Jess. The only reason he’s still breathing is because you asked me to leave it.”

“I don't need a hero, Dom. I need a shower.”

“You need to realize that you’re not alone.” He finally looked up. The gold in his eyes was vivid now, the mark of a wolf pushing to the surface. “You’ve spent your whole life trying to prove you don't need anyone because the pack treats you like a liability. You’re not a liability to me. You’re a prize.”

Jess felt the tears coming again, and she hated it. She hated being vulnerable, especially in front of him. “Stop it. Just… stop being nice to me. It’s worse than the yelling.”

“I’m not being nice.” Dominic stood up, pulling her with him. The ice pack thudded to the floor. He didn't care. He backed her against the refrigerator, his hands pinning her shoulders. “I’m being honest. I want you, Jess Whitman. I’ve wanted you since you were eighteen and walked into that New Year’s party looking like a goddamn revolution.”

“My brothers will kill you,” she breathed, her heart slamming against her ribs.

“Let them try.”

He leaned in, his nose brushing hers. The scent of him—smoke, cedar, and raw Alpha—drowned out the world. “Tell me you don't want this. Tell me you don't feel the way the air thrums when we’re in the same room. Tell me Michael is the only one who gets to touch you.”

“I hate you,” she whispered, but her hands were already sliding up his chest, finding the hard, corded muscle beneath his shirt.

“Liar.”

He crushed his mouth to hers.

It wasn't a question. It was a demand. Dominic tasted like dark coffee and desperation. His tongue swept into her mouth, claiming her with a ferocity that made Jess’s head spin. She groaned, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her back arching as he pulled her flush against him.

He was hard—unforgivingly so—pressing into her belly through his jeans. The contrast was a shock; the star quarterback, the disciplined icon, losing his mind over a wolfless girl in a cramped kitchen.

Dominic’s hands slid down, gripping her thighs and hoisting her up. Jess wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his lower back. He carried her toward the bedroom, his mouth never leaving hers.

He dropped her onto the bed, the mattress groaning. Before she could catch her breath, he was on top of her. He ripped his shirt over his head, the fabric tearing in his haste. His chest was a landscape of scars and power, his wolf tattoo shifting with the movement of his muscles.

“You're mine tonight,” he growled, his voice a low, animal rasp.

He didn't wait for her to undress. He yanked her hoodie over her head, then her leggings, leaving her in the black lace she’d worn for another man. His eyes darkened until they were almost black.

“He saw you in this?” Dominic’s voice was lethal.

“No,” Jess panted. “He didn't. I was in the closet. I saw him, he didn't see me.”

“Good.” Dominic’s hand slid between her thighs, his fingers finding her already soaked. “Because I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. Ever again.”

He moved with a frantic, messy hunger. He didn't care about grace. He cared about possession. He entered her with one deep, violent surge that knocked the air from her lungs. Jess screamed, her head hitting the pillow, her eyes rolling back as he filled her to the absolute limit.

“Dom!” she cried out, her fingers clawing at his arms.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his sweat dripping onto her skin. “See who’s inside you, Jess. See who’s claiming you.”

He began to move, his thrusts short and brutal. He was pounding into her, his hips slamming against hers with a rhythmic, wet sound that echoed in the small room. It wasn't the polite, careful sex she’d had with Michael. This was a breaking. A rebuilding.

Jess’s body responded with a violence of its own. She met every thrust, her hips tilting up, her teeth bared. The pleasure was too much, a jagged lightning bolt that threatened to shatter her.

“More,” she sobbed, her legs tightening around him. “Please, Dom, more.”

He flipped her over, dragging her to the edge of the bed. He stood on the floor, pulling her hips to him, and drove in from behind. The angle was deeper, hitting a spot that made Jess’s vision go white. He gripped her waist so hard his fingers left bruises, his chest heaving as he poured everything he had into her.

“Mine,” he groaned, the word a physical weight. “Always… fucking… mine.”

The climax hit her like an explosion. Jess’s internal muscles clamped down on him, sending her into a convulsing, screaming release. Dominic roared, his body jerking as he came, his knot swelling and locking them together in the ancient, biological bond.

He collapsed over her, his heavy frame crushing her into the mattress. They stayed like that for minutes, the only sound their ragged breathing and the ticking of the clock on the nightstand.

Slowly, the weight of reality began to settle. The heat faded into a stinging, lingering warmth. Jess felt the literal weight of his body—the raw, 3D reality of a man who could destroy her world just as easily as he’d mended it tonight.

Dominic rolled to his side, pulling her into his arm. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed on the floor where he’d dropped his jeans. He ignored it. It buzzed again. And again.

He reached down, his face hardening as he looked at the screen.

“What?” Jess asked, her voice raspy.

Dominic didn't answer. He turned the phone toward her. It was a group chat. The Whitman brothers.

Jonathan: Dominic, why is your car at Jess’s place? And why aren't you answering your goddamn phone?

Marcus: I’m five minutes out. If you’ve touched her, Hale, NFL contract or not, I’m putting you in the ground.

Jess looked at the door. Then at Dominic.

“They're here,” she whispered.

A heavy fist pounded on the front door, the wood splintering under the force of an Alpha’s rage.

“HALE! OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!” Jonathan’s roar shook the walls.

Dominic stood up, reaching for his pants, a dark, dangerous smile playing on his lips. “I guess it’s time to tell them.”