"His cock drove into her harder. Deeper. 'You were made for this,' the Beast Alpha growled, his knot swelling at her entrance. 'Made to be bred by your Alpha."
Daciana's breath caught.
She pressed her thighs together so hard her knee hit the desk. Heat pooled low in her belly, thick and insistent. She shifted in the chair. It only made it worse.
She grabbed a cold French fry, chewed without tasting it, and flipped the page anyway.
Five Beast Alphas surrounded the heroine. Massive. Feral. Cocks hard and ready.
"She can't take all of us," one said, stroking himself slowly.
"She will," the largest promised. He wrapped a clawed hand around her throat and squeezed. "Won't you, little wolf? You'll take every inch we give you."
Daciana whimpered out loud.
She was wet — embarrassingly, shamefully wet. Thighs slick, underwear ruined, body screaming for something she refused to name. Her wolf simply said: More.
"We are not doing more," Daciana muttered. "We are on a mission."
Her wolf ignored her.
The book was called Knotted by the Pack. She'd stolen it from her roommate's shelf three days ago intending to mock it. That was before page forty-seven. Before the heroine got pinned face-down and begged so prettily the reader could feel it in her own clit.
Now Daciana was on page one-ninety, fries forgotten, unconsciously grinding against the hard library chair for the last twenty minutes.
She was going to need therapy. Expensive therapy.
She was hiding in the abandoned fourth-floor library of Lunar Mixed Academy, spying on the Westmont Alpha brothers … Kruze and Zarek, the Lycan King's sons. Yesterday she'd overheard them mention a meeting here at five. She'd arrived at four-twenty and made the fatal mistake of bringing the book to "pass the time."
"Tell me you want my knot," the alpha in the book growled.
"I—I want it. Please. Give it to me."
"Louder."
"Please knot me—"
Daciana's hips rolled forward on their own.
Then she heard voices.
She slammed the book shut, bent the cover, and crept toward the sound with her phone already recording.
Through the shelves she watched Kruze and Zarek drag a bloody boy into the open. His arm was broken.
Kruze grabbed the shattered limb and squeezed. The scream echoed.
Zarek smiled like he was offering someone tea. "Where's your accomplice?"
The boy sobbed. "Nobody—I swear—"
Kruze's claws slid out. Zarek's followed. Shifting outside the full moon was illegal. Exile-level illegal. And the Lycan King's sons were doing it in school like it was nothing.
This is it, Daciana thought. Proof. First step to burning the Westmont name to the ground.
Her hands stayed perfectly steady.
Zarek's claws flashed. "Last chance."
"I don't know anything—"
Kruze struck. Four deep gashes across the boy's chest. Blood sprayed the shelves.
Daciana's hand flew to her mouth. Her elbow clipped the Coke can.
It rolled.
Straight into Kruze's boot.
Silence.
He looked down. Then up. Straight at her hiding spot.
"Well," he said softly. "Hello."
Daciana ran.
She dropped the book without thinking, pink sneakers squeaking, phone clutched in her fist, arousal still pulsing traitorously between her legs because her body was a fucking traitor.
"You can't outrun us," Zarek called, delighted. "Sweetheart, we're faster."
She sprinted harder — and suddenly a hand yanked her through a door she hadn't even seen.
It slammed shut.
"Don't."
The single alpha command froze her wolf solid. Then his mouth was on hers.
No warning. No permission.
His hand cupped her jaw, thumb pressing her pulse, and he kissed her like he owned the air in her lungs.
Her wolf arched into him with a sound that felt like surrender. Daciana kissed him back, already soaked from the book, now drenched because of him.
Outside, footsteps slowed… stopped.
He deepened the kiss, grinding her against the wall until she felt every hard inch of him. Her hips rolled helplessly. He felt it. She knew he felt it.
The footsteps moved on.
He pulled back.
Rodrigo Westmont.
Oldest son. Heir. The most dangerous of the three.
She stared at him, lips swollen, thighs shaking.
"You—"
"You're welcome." He straightened his blazer like he hadn't just tongue-fucked the enemy against a wall. "I masked your scent. They would have found you."
"You could have just hidden me!"
His mouth twitched — almost a smile. "You're drooling, little spy."
"I am not.." She wiped her mouth anyway. "You're an asshole."
"And you're the wolf who just watched my brothers carve up a traitor." His eyes darkened. "I expect a thank you."
She lifted her chin. "I wasn't going to thank you. I'm not keeping quiet about what I saw."
He went very still.
Then he stepped in until his scent wrapped around her . "Don't make me regret saving you. I'd love to watch my brothers run their next little experiment on someone so… entertaining."
Experiment.
The word punched the air from her lungs. Lily in the hospital bed. Tubes. Blood. Her mother on the floor. The Westmont press release ..eighteen words, zero apologies.
Rodrigo searched her face once. Something flickered in his eyes. Then he walked out.
Door clicking softly behind him.
She stood alone in the dark, lips still tingling from Rodrigo Westmont's mouth, the ghost of his hard cock pressed against her belly burned into her memory.
The bell rang overhead — end of last period.
She slipped out, still dazed, lips bruised, and barely made it to Hartley's classroom before the door slammed shut behind the last student.
"Miss Mikelson Again." Professor Hartley's voice cut like glass from the front of the room. "That's your sixth unexcused late this month. Detention. Rest of the day. Smitty's classroom. Now."
She didn't argue. Just nodded and turned toward the hall, the professor's glare burning into her back.
Twenty minutes later she was slumped in the back row of detention, thighs clenched so tight they ached. Every time she shifted, the soaked fabric of her panties dragged against her swollen clit and she had to bite her lip to stay quiet.
Teacher Smitty snored at his desk.
She cracked open the contraband pages inside the decoy textbook and the words hit.
The three alphas had the female lead backed into the corner of the library, moonlight slicing through the shelves.
"You can't run forever, little wolf," the leader growled, fisting her hair and yanking her head back. "We can smell how wet you are. Your cunt is dripping down your thighs while you watch us."
His brother stepped closer, voice silky. "Beg nicely and maybe we'll knot you together instead of breaking you."
The heroine whimpered but her hips rolled forward anyway.
Daciana's breath hitched. The scene was too close. Way too close. Her own slick had already ruined her panties hours ago and now the words were making it worse.
Outside the high windows, daylight faded to gray, then to full dark. Streetlights flickered on across the academy grounds.
It was already getting late so she stood up to leave.
"Leaving so soon?"
She spun.
Kruze and Zarek Westmont filled the doorway.
Zarek leaned against the frame, grinning wide and wicked. "Found you, little spy."
Kruze moved first and set her stolen book on the desk with deliberate care.
Knotted by the Pack.
"You dropped this," Zarek said cheerfully. He stepped closer, reached out, and slowly tugged a lock of her hair, forcing her head back just enough to expose her throat. He inhaled at her neck, long and deliberate. "Mmm. Still soaked in that sweet, desperate scent."
Kruze didn't smile. He simply caught her chin between two fingers, tilting her face up until she had to meet his cold, unblinking stare.
"Your slick is all over the pages," he said quietly. "We could smell it from the hallway. You were dripping while you watched us work. Did the torture make you wet, little wolf? Or was it the thought of what we'd do to you next?"
Zarek's thumb brushed the racing pulse at her throat. "We thought we lost you. Then we found your filthy little book." His voice dropped, playful and cruel. "So here's the question…"
Kruze's grip tightened, eyes promising violence and something far darker.
"Do we kill you?"
Zarek finished with a bright, terrible smile, "or do we keep you?"
They both leaned in.
Daciana looked at the book on the desk. At the two sons of the man who had destroyed her family. At the locked door and the dark windows and the promise in their eyes that matched the pages she'd just read.
She had come here for proof.
She had no idea the price would be her body… and maybe her soul.
The Moon Goddess, it turned out, had a genuinely terrible sense of humor.