Lahat ng Kabanata ng Alpha’s Little Plaything : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Loriah’s POVI was running late—of course, on my very first day of class. My night shift at the restaurant had dragged on until nearly dawn, and by the time I stumbled into bed, exhaustion already had its claws in me. Then Sister Nora called. She always did, ever since I left the orphanage.“Promise me you’ll do your best today, child,” she said softly, her voice laced with pride.“I promise, Sister,” I murmured, smiling even though I was bone tired.But just as I hung up, my phone buzzed again. Brea.“Are you even awake?” she demanded.“Barely,” I yawned. “Didn’t you sleep?”“I couldn’t. First day of law school, Lorie! My stomach’s in knots. I kept dreaming I showed up in pajamas.”I laughed, picturing her striding into class in her silk floral set. “Honestly, you’d still look better than half your professors.”“Stop it. You know I hate when you say things like that,” she sighed. “Looks don’t win cases in court.”“Maybe not, but they don’t hurt either,” I teased. We ended up talking

Loriah’s PoV I was rummaging through my tiny closet, biting my lip as my hands sifted over the same three blouses for the tenth time. Nothing felt right. Nothing felt… special enough. My heart was already a chaotic drum, and I hadn’t seen him yet. The doorbell rang. “Loriah, it’s me—Claire!” I yanked the door open, and she breezed in like she owned the place. Her heels clicked against the floor, impossibly tall and sharp, matching her confidence. She wore a leopard-print crop top so tight it looked painted on, with black jeans that hugged her curves like a second skin. Her brown hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, her makeup flawless, and her eyeliner sharp enough to kill. She looked like she belonged on the cover of a magazine. “You look stunning,” I muttered. Claire smirked, holding up a shopping bag. “I came here to rescue you.” She dumped the bag on my bed and shook out a handful of dresses. Fabrics in every color spilled across my quilt like treasure. My eyes caught on

Loriah’s PoV After that day, we became inseparable. It was as if something snapped inside both of us the moment his lips touched mine for the first time. I never thought a kiss could hold so much power, so much hunger. Every stolen moment, every glance across a crowded hall, ended the same way—with Draco pulling me into some dark corner of campus, kissing me until I was dizzy, until my lungs burned for air. And I let him. I wanted him like I had never wanted anything before. His mouth would devour mine, his hands restless and sure. Sometimes he would drag me into the back stairwell, sometimes between the stacks in the library, but his favorite was the storage room behind the theater. It gave us more privacy. The smell of dust and paint, the shadows and silence—it all became the backdrop to our stolen passion. That afternoon, the air in the little room was thick, charged with something that made my skin prickle. His lips were on my neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks I

Loriah’s POV The moment Draco threw my sweater onto the sofa, my pulse fluttered wildly in my throat. His mouth trailed fire along my skin, his hands firm and possessive as they cupped my breasts. Heat spread through me until my cheeks burned. “Draco…” I whispered, half a plea, half a moan. “Slow… please.” He lifted his head, eyes dark and tortured. “Fuck,” he muttered, almost as if ashamed of himself. “Do you want to have dinner first?” His voice had dropped into something rougher, deeper—like it took every shred of control for him to ask. My gaze slipped lower, catching on the impressive bulge straining against his pants. Before I could stop myself. Almost without thinking, my fingers brushed against him. The sound that tore from his throat—half groan, half growl—made my stomach tighten. “Don’t,” he warned, his hand wrapping around mine but not pushing it away. His jaw clenched hard. “Don’t do that, beautiful, unless you want me to take you on this couch and forget eve

Loriah’s PoV I felt the world crumble when my eyes locked onto Draco across the dining room. The woman beside him touched his arm with a familiarity that made bile rise in my throat. She leaned in when she spoke, her smile elegant and knowing. And around them—two older couples, their laughter blending into the clinking of wine glasses. I felt sick. “Elena,” I whispered, catching one of the senior waitresses as she swept by. “Who are they?” She glanced at me. “That’s Draco Thorne and his fiancée, Marla Allard. Marla Allard booked the restaurant for the first time—Alessandro’s thrilled. They even brought their parents. The Thornes own that multibillion-dollar record company. Word is, Draco and Marla were betrothed since childhood. You know how it goes, old money, match made in heaven.” Her words blurred after that. Betrothed. Fiancée. Only heir. The glasses on my tray rattled. I barely made it to the bathroom before I collapsed against the sink, retching until nothing was