Claim

The scent hits you first—one you know all too well, unmistakable and powerful. It’s the scent of a king. He is here. In the darkness, his gaze flicks toward you, suspicion burning in his eyes.

“Have you no respect for your new king?” he growls, his voice laced with warning. “Do you dare show up smelling like you do? Dressed like that?” His eyes narrow as they drag over your form.

You couldn’t resist the urge to fight back, the defiance too strong to ignore. “I’m not dressed,” you reply, your words dripping with sarcasm. You can almost feel the tension ripple through the air as every head in the room turns toward you, the silence thick. Then, to your surprise, a chuckle escapes from the shadows.

Did the king just laugh at my joke? You can’t help but wonder if it’s the first sign of something more dangerous. Your pulse quickens as a thought creeps into your mind—would he kill you if he knew the truth? If he knew that you were his fated mate? The thought of his body inside you, claiming you, sends a jolt of heat through your core.

Suddenly, his voice cuts through your thoughts, cold and commanding. “Everyone must leave Alpha Chase and join me as your Alpha King.”

A cold shiver of dread washes over you. Don’t. This is a trick. If we join him, he’ll know who we really are. Your mother’s voice reverberates in your mind, filled with urgency.

You panic, your mind racing. What about Dad?

The response is sharp and quick. He is not your biological father. Do you remember your favorite bedtime story from when you were a child?

A chill runs down your spine. The previous king... was my father? The revelation hits you like a thunderclap, and you stumble, disoriented, as if the world around you has shifted in a way you can’t quite comprehend.

One of the rogues—a female, eyes narrow and judgmental—steps forward, her gaze assessing you. “This one looks sick,” she says with an air of distaste.

Your mother moves in, stepping between you and the rogue. “She had a rough day,” she explains quickly, her voice steady but strained. “Please, let me take her home.”

In a flash, the king is upon you, his movements lightning-fast. He grabs your mother by the throat with one hand, and with the other, he seizes you. His grip is brutal, a vise that leaves you gasping for air. “Why didn’t you two accept my invitation?” he snarls.

Before you can even react, he orders coldly, “Kill their Alpha.”

Your heart pounds as your throat constricts. You claw at his hand, but your voice emerges in a rasping whisper, “No.” The room erupts into chaos as Alpha Chase’s head rolls, severed in an instant, a gruesome display that sends some of the rogues screaming in terror.

“Mom,” you gasp, your eyes darting to where she struggles in his grip. “What is happening? What’s going on?”

We have to fight him and run. We’re better off as rogues, your mother’s mind link cuts through your panic. She struggles but fails to break free from his grasp. Then, just as quickly, he lets go of her, letting her fall to the floor in a heap.

You barely have time to comprehend the sudden shift before you hear him, his voice low and possessive. “Mine.” He says it again, and your stomach churns as he hoists you over his shoulder with ease, carrying you away like a trophy.

‘Try running, and I’ll kill a random person,’ his voice floods your mind, making your heart drop into your stomach.

“I can walk,” you protest, your body burning against his, the warmth of his skin against you sending an unwelcome thrill through your veins.

For a brief, terrifying moment, you think he’s taking you to some dark dungeon, but then your back hits something soft. Satin. A bed. The world spins as he throws you onto it, his body following in a swift motion, caging you in.

“Mine,” he repeats, the words like a mantra that vibrates through you, making your body react involuntarily, a shiver of anticipation running through your veins.

Run, your mother’s voice is a desperate whisper in your mind as you hear the sounds of struggle fading. The rogues dragging your father and her away.

“Where are you taking my parents?” you demand, panic seizing your chest as his lips trace the sensitive skin of your neck.

“A royal family in hiding,” he responds, his breath hot against your skin. “Who are you?” His voice deepens, curiosity mixing with something darker as he searches your mind for the answers, but there’s nothing. You are empty to him.

“I just found out,” you groan, your body betraying you as his lips find your nipple. The sensation is overwhelming. “They’re not my biological parents.”

“Mmm,” he hums in satisfaction, releasing your stiffened nipple with a wet sound. “I can still smell your virgin blood,” he mutters, and you feel the heat of his lips against yours.

“If your rogues hurt my parents, I will hate you forever,” you warn him, your voice low but filled with an edge of fury.

His lips silence you, capturing your mouth in a brutal kiss, devouring you. The force of it, the hunger in his kiss, sends a spike of arousal through you despite yourself.

Did you keep your virginity for me? His question floods your mind, the intimate connection between you both growing stronger with every word.

Not you specifically, you respond, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

He pulls back, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Lie to me again, and someone will die.”

“Does someone always have to die with you, mafia?” You scoff, trying to push him off you.

Before you can make a move, he grabs your wrist, forcing your palm to his mouth in a gesture both possessive and commanding. “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice drips with dark amusement.

“I want to see my parents,” you demand, trying to wriggle free, but his grip tightens.

“Join my pack, and I promise no harm will come to them,” he promises, his lips brushing over your palm, his kisses deceptively soft. But the grip around you remains unyielding, pulling you closer with every passing second.

“You just killed our Alpha!” You cry, frustration and helplessness boiling over. “What kind of monster are you?”

His mouth moves to your neck, and with a low growl, he whispers, “Claim me.”

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. Why does he want me to claim him first? The question lingers, but you don’t have the answer.

Suddenly, he stands, and for a long moment, he simply watches you, his eyes filled with something unreadable. He steps back, removing his tailored jacket, unbuttoning his shirt with a slow, deliberate motion. Each button undone reveals more of his sculpted body, his eyes never leaving yours as you follow the path of his fingers, transfixed by the sight of him.

Run, your mother’s voice urges once more, but it’s too late. You are already lost in him.

He leaps forward, too fast for you to react. In one swift movement, he removes his belt and binds you to the bed. “Tell your mother if she advises you one more time, she’ll regret it,” he warns, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. You arch your body instinctively, feeling the heat of his bare chest against yours.

His smile is small, predatory, as he realizes you’re not going anywhere. He loosens the belt, dragging it over your chest, his touch light, exploratory, as if trying to gauge what kind of lover you will be.

In a desperate attempt, you reach for the belt, pulling it toward you. With one final motion, your hands find the fastening of his pants, undoing them with trembling fingers. The moment you touch him, a wave of raw need crashes over you, and your hands slide down to grab his firm backside, nails digging in.

“Mine,” the words slip from your lips before you can stop them.

“Are you sure you want this monster?” His voice is dark, but the heat in his eyes tells you everything you need to know.

The next moment, he shifts, his body transforming before your eyes. Half man, half wolf, his teeth sink into your collarbone with a suddenness that sends shockwaves of pain through you. You cry out, but the pain is nothing compared to the hunger that overtakes you.

With each thrust, he claims you, over and over again. “Mine,” he growls, his eyes wild with something more—something primal.

In the end, your body betrays you, swept up in the overwhelming flood of pleasure and pain. His hand grips your hair, pulling your face into his neck as he demands once more, “Claim me.”