Page 6 of My Forbidden Alpha

Most of the pack members live on pack territory, but some do live in the town amongst the humans and come down here, into the woods for a run, training and pack meetings. No one is forced to stay here, but most people prefer to. After all, wolves live in packs, and we prefer company instead of being alone. And it’s safer from other packs and rogues.

Our Alpha, Jackson Westwood, my stepfather, owns the area along with several miles of the woods surrounding the pack grounds. He has his own businesses that help support the pack financially. Despite our pack only having around 500 members, he is still a strong and fair alpha. In recent years, our pack has grown a lot, and I heard him saying that it is fast becoming one of the larger packs in the country.

The sun is now high in the sky, and I lower my window slightly, putting on some EDM music as I tap the steering wheel with my freshly painted black nails. It is a roughly fifty-minute drive to Birmingham, the closest airport to our town, and I’m actually grateful that I have that time to mentally prepare to see him again.

Sighing, I lean back in my seat. Elijah Westwood… It was two summers ago when he had visited from his extensive alpha training around the country, that I realised I was crushing on him, on my own stepbrother. Something that still makes me cringe.

When I saw him in nothing but sweatpants as he finished a workout with his friends, glistening with sweat as he poured water over himself… well damn, did I realise. It’s not something I’d say out loud, even my best friend doesn’t know. Heck, she’salready leading the Elijah Westwood Fan Club, and the worst thing is I have to pretend I don’t care.

I can’t help but feel nervous now, wondering if those feelings would be gone. I sure hope so. I don’t want things to be awkward between us. Plus, I doubt alpha training made him any uglier, hours out in the sun, extreme training regimes… Yeah, something tells me he might just turn up even hotter.

Elijah was never the nicest person towards me. He was always teasing, taunting, or trying to embarrass me. I was so glad when he had first left the pack five years ago, thinking ‘good riddance’.

Hell, there’s no way I consider him my brother. We really only spent three years together under the same roof. He left at sixteen and now he’s returning home permanently. Dad will soon step down as Alpha and Elijah will take that title, something everyone in the pack is excited about.

I always knew that Elijah was an extremely handsome young man, with his delicious chocolate locks that have over time naturally lightened by the sun and those piercing blue eyes…

“Fuck!” I growl with irritation at myself. Do not let yourself go down that train of thought, Scarlett… Not now. Not ever.

I just can’t. He is and will always remain my stepbrother and he’ll find his mate soon enough.

Elijah Westwood

Scarlett

The airport is far more crowded than I had imagined it would be, with people entering and leaving in a rush. Taxis and cars are parked all around, and I could not find even one empty spot until I had driven around several times and spotted someone pulling out.

It isn’t the best spot and with the car on the left parked out of its bay slightly and into mine, I take ages squeezing myself into the tight spot. I’m a new driver and it’s not as easy as it looks! I then realise I can’t open the driver’s side door because I don’t have enough space.

Groaning in frustration, I climb over to the passenger seat and get out of the car. I’m not so sure I enjoy driving anymore… I failed four driving tests before passing and bay parking is still not one of my strong points. Locking the car, I head inside. The wind is blowing strongly, making my hair whip across my face.

Finally, I enter the airport and scan the Flight Information Display. Oh crap, the flight landed thirty minutes ago. Great, I’m late… I pout, crossing my arms and hoping I am not too late. It does take time to collect your luggage, right?

“Finally… why am I not surprised?” A drawling voice comesfrom behind me. My heart skips a beat. Recognising the voice I spin around, knocking into someone.

“Ouch, fuck! That hurt!” I groan, massaging my boob. I look up to glare at the brick-like man I have just knocked into, freezing when I find myself staring into my stepbrother’s cocky face. The scent of winter spice, vanilla and white musk envelops my senses and I suddenly feel dizzy, my breath stolen from me.

“Need some help to massage that?” he asks huskily. His eyes flit down to my breasts, and I don’t miss the teasing glimmer in his eyes. I hate that I blush and instead glare at him to make up for it.

“Oh, shut up, Elijah,” I reply, rolling my eyes.

“What’s wrong? Can’t a big brother take care of his precious little sister?” he mocks as he leans closer, his lips inches from my ear. I hate how his words ignite a forbidden pleasure inside of me. My heart thunders in my chest as his breath fans the side of my face.

Take care of me? There are many ways that can be taken and a few that make my pussy ache. “I promise to takerealgood care of you… just say the word, Red,” he whispers seductively.

I shove him away, trying not to notice the way his chest feels under my fingertips. I can’t deny that he looks beyond incredible, sexier than I remember. Has he grown a little more?

He’s around six-foot-two, and he is definitely a lot bulkier than he used to be. His skin is tanned, sun-kissed to perfection, and a light stubble covers that angular jaw of his. He’s dressed in ripped jeans, a white T-shirt, a leather jacket, and Nike trainers. All-in-all, he looks effortlessly perfect.

He is the typical alpha male – drop-dead gorgeous, and he’s getting a lot of attention from young women and girls who pass us by. Some cast me an envious glance. If only they knew who he is to me.

“Stop being an ass. It’s clear you haven’t changed,” I snap,glaring at him icily as I try to focus on reality. He looks down at me and I can’t read the look in his eyes.

“You’ve changed a lot though… I was beginning to think the Instagram posts may have all been photo-shopped and heavily edited, clearly not…” he muses, but to my surprise the mocking tone isn’t there. His eyes trail over my short frame, and I can feel his gaze burn into me. Maybe it’s in my head, but it’s almost as if he’s undressing me with his eyes.

My heart skips a beat when his gaze lingers on my bust for a few seconds longer than it should have.

“When I’m this gorgeous, I don’t need Photoshop; I’m not you. Now if you’re done being annoying, shall we go? I don’t have all day,” I say, turning and leading the way out. I can feel him still staring at me, but I try not to pay attention to him.

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