LOGINThe mark on my neck throbbed like a living brand as I slipped back into my lavish bedroom on the upper floor of Thornwood Manor.
Dawn was still hours away, yet sleep felt like a distant, laughable concept. I locked the door with shaking fingers and collapsed against the heavy wood, my silk slip ruined and sticking to my sweat-slicked skin. Cassian’s bite pulsed with dark energy—his Alpha essence already seeping into my blood, making my wolf preen with possessive delight while my mind reeled in shame and insatiable hunger. I stumbled to the full-length mirror, tilting my head to examine the fresh claim. Two deep puncture marks marred the elegant curve where my neck met my shoulder, surrounded by bruising that screamed ownership. It wasn’t a complete mate bond—yet—but it was enough. His scent clung to me like a second skin, woody and dominant, overpowering my own. Any wolf who came near would know I had been marked by the Alpha. By my stepfather. “Fuck,” I whispered, tracing the wound with trembling fingertips. A jolt of pleasure shot straight to my clit, making my pussy clench emptily. Even the slightest touch reignited the fire he had stoked in the studio. I could still feel his thick fingers stretching me, fucking me with ruthless precision, his bulge grinding against my ass as he fought not to knot his own daughter. I moved to my ornate writing desk and pulled out the leather-bound diary hidden in the false bottom—a secret confessional I had started the night I first discovered his ritual footage. The pages were already filling with my filthiest thoughts. I dipped the pen and wrote with frantic intensity: Dear Moon Diary, Tonight I let him mark me. Daddy’s fangs in my neck while his fingers destroyed my cunt. I came like a whore, squirting all over his hand, and I would have begged for his knot if he hadn’t thrown me out. I’m going mad with need. His scent is inside me now. I want more. I want him to film me—bent over, presented, taking every inch of the Alpha who raised me like his own blood. The laws be damned. Closing the diary, I stripped off the ruined slip and stepped into the shower, but the hot water only heightened my sensitivity. Every drop felt like Cassian’s tongue. I slid my fingers between my legs again, replaying the scene—his gravelly voice calling me a filthy bitch, the way his cock had throbbed against me through his trousers. I brought myself to another shuddering orgasm, moaning his name into the steam, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough again. By morning, I had covered the mark with a silk scarf and applied heavy makeup. At breakfast in the grand dining hall, the tension was electric. Lady Isolde sat at one end, elegant and sharp-eyed as always, while Cassian occupied the head of the table like the king he was. I took my usual seat to his right, close enough that his presence overwhelmed me. “Good morning, Father,” I said sweetly, my voice carrying just a hint of mockery as I reached for the fresh fruit. Under the table, I let my bare foot slide up his calf, brushing teasingly against his thigh. His hand clamped down on my knee like a vice, hidden from view, squeezing hard enough to bruise. “Morning, Evangeline,” he replied, tone perfectly controlled for my mother’s benefit. But his amber eyes flashed a warning that sent fresh slick coating my thighs. “You look… flushed. Did you sleep poorly?” Isolde glanced up from her tablet, eyebrows raised. “Is something wrong, darling? You’ve been restless lately.” “Nothing at all, Mother,” I answered, smiling innocently while Cassian’s grip tightened. Under the table, I pressed my foot higher, boldly rubbing against the growing hardness in his trousers. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking furiously. The scent of his rising arousal mixed with mine, creating a private storm between us. After breakfast, Isolde left for a pack luncheon, leaving us alone in the hallway. Cassian grabbed my arm and dragged me into his private study, slamming the door shut and pinning me against it with his massive body. His hand wrapped around my throat, just above the hidden mark. “You dare tease me at my own table, you wicked little slut?” he snarled, fangs partially extended. “After I warned you last night?” I met his gaze defiantly, my bad-girl nature surging. “I can still taste your fingers on my tongue, Daddy. I want the real thing. Your cock. Your knot. Stretch your daughter’s forbidden pussy and film it for your precious clients.” Cassian’s control frayed. He yanked the scarf away, exposing his bite mark, and attacked it with his mouth—sucking and biting until I whimpered. One hand shoved between my legs, finding me bare and dripping under my dress. No panties. He growled in approval and plunged three fingers deep inside me, fucking me hard against the door. “So fucking wet for me,” he rasped, curling his fingers mercilessly. “This cunt knows who it belongs to. But I won’t knot you, Eva. Not yet. You’re going to suffer like I am.” He punished me with brutal precision, bringing me to the edge again and again only to pull back, edging me mercilessly until tears of frustration streamed down my face. My hips bucked desperately against his hand, chasing release that he denied. “Please, Alpha… Daddy, I’ll be good,” I begged, voice breaking. “Just let me come.” Cassian finally relented, rubbing my clit with vicious speed as he bit down on the mark again. I shattered, screaming into his shoulder as my orgasm ripped through me, walls pulsing violently around his fingers. He held me through the aftershocks, breathing ragged, his own cock straining painfully against me. When he stepped back, his eyes were tortured. “This ends here. Go to your room. Stay away from the basement. If I catch you again, I won’t stop next time.” But as I left the study on unsteady legs, scarf replaced and thighs sticky with evidence of my sin, I knew I would defy him. That night, I crept back toward the basement stairs once more, diary in hand, craving the next forbidden taste of my Alpha stepfather. The pull was too strong. The addiction had already taken root. And Lord Cassian Drake would soon break completely.The second day in the London residence passed behind locked doors and drawn curtains. Cassian kept me close—sometimes beneath him, sometimes curled against his chest while the knot locked us together, always collared. Between the physical claims we spoke in low, practical tones about the future we were shaping. The encrypted messages from Kieran arrived at regular intervals. Isolde had questioned the staff. She had tried to access the east wing security logs. She had asked pointed questions about the timing of our sudden departure. Kieran was deflecting, but the window was narrowing. In the late afternoon Cassian sat in the leather armchair near the window, fully dressed in black, while I knelt between his knees wearing only the collar. His cock rested heavy and hard against my tongue as he reviewed the latest message. He spoke while I worked him slowly. “Kieran suggests a controlled disclosure,” Cassian said, fingers threading through my hair. “A small circle of trusted males—him
The private residence in London was a fortress of glass and dark stone hidden behind high walls and layers of pack security. Cassian had purchased it years earlier under a shell company for exactly this kind of necessity—absolute privacy when Thornwood Manor became too dangerous. We arrived just after midnight. The moment the reinforced door locked behind us, Cassian dropped our bags, turned, and pinned me against the nearest wall. The modest dress I had worn for the journey was ripped open down the front. He shoved the fabric aside, lifted me, and thrust into me in one hard stroke. There was no slow buildup. He fucked me against the wall with deep, urgent thrusts, the collar shifting against my throat with every movement, until the knot swelled and locked us together. I came with a broken cry, face buried against his neck. Cassian followed moments later, flooding me while his teeth found the mark once more. Only when the knot eased did he carry me deeper into the residence and se
The modest black dress Cassian chose for me covered my throat and fell to mid-calf, yet it did nothing to hide the truth from those who knew how to look. The leather collar sat beneath the high neckline, a secret weight against my skin. The mark on my neck pulsed under the fabric. Between my legs I still felt the residual ache of his last knotting only hours earlier. Cassian kept me close from the moment we left his chambers. His hand rested at the small of my back as we entered the main hall, a gesture that appeared protective to the rest of the pack and possessive to anyone who understood the new reality. Senior wolves filled the long tables—Betas, enforcers, a few allied Alphas visiting for territory discussions. Kieran stood near the head of the table, grey eyes tracking us the moment we appeared. Isolde was already seated, elegant and sharp, her gaze narrowing the instant she saw me on Cassian’s arm. “Evangeline,” she said as we approached. “You’re looking… recovered.” “Yes,
Morning arrived with the heavy weight of consequences. Cassian left the bed before dawn to meet with Kieran and the senior Betas under the cover of routine territory business. He ordered me to remain in his chambers, collared, wearing only one of his shirts, and to open the door for no one. Breakfast arrived on a tray left outside. I ate in silence, the leather collar a constant reminder of the new reality we had created. By mid-morning the first fracture appeared. A soft knock sounded at the door. Not Cassian’s firm pattern. I froze. A second knock followed, lighter, accompanied by a familiar voice. “Evangeline? It’s your mother. Open the door.” Isolde. My heart slammed against my ribs. I pulled the shirt tighter around myself and stayed silent, hoping she would leave. Instead the handle turned. The lock held, but her voice sharpened. “Cassian said you were unwell. Why is this door locked from the inside? Evangeline, answer me.” I forced my voice to sound hoarse and tired. “I
The raised voices outside the door lasted only a few minutes before falling into a tense, controlled silence. Footsteps approached. The lock turned. Cassian entered first, expression carved from stone. Behind him stood Kieran Ashford. The Beta was thirty-two, tall, and built with the lean, lethal muscle of a born enforcer. Dark hair, sharp grey eyes, and a permanent air of restrained violence. He closed the door behind them and locked it without being asked. His gaze swept the room once—lingering on the rumpled bed, the scent of repeated claiming thick in the air, and finally on the black leather collar around my throat. “So it’s true,” Kieran said quietly. “You knotted her.” Cassian did not deny it. He moved to stand between us, one hand resting possessively on the back of my neck just above the collar. “She is mine. The bond has begun. You will keep this knowledge to yourself, or we will have a problem.” Kieran’s nostrils flared as he took in the full scent of what had happened
Cassian kept his word. For the remainder of the day I remained locked inside the Alpha’s private chambers, wearing only his shirt, the scent of our repeated joinings saturating every surface. Food arrived on a covered tray left outside the door by a silent staff member who never saw my face. I ate little. Most of the hours were spent in a heavy, sated daze, replaying the feel of his knot locking inside me and the low, possessive growls he made each time he came. When the door finally opened again it was full dark. Cassian entered carrying a small leather bag and the sharp scent of the outside world. He locked the door, set the bag down, and crossed to the bed in three long strides. Without speaking he pulled the shirt over my head, pushed me onto my back, and spread my thighs. “Missed this cunt,” he muttered, already hard. He thrust into me in one smooth motion, burying himself to the root. The stretch was still intense, my body still tender from the previous claims, yet the wet







