Page 47 of The Alpha Under My Bed

I screamed, my entire body seizing as the pulsing turned into something relentless, something devastating. My free hand slapped against my mouth, muffling the sound, but I knew he heard it—knew he was listening to every gasping breath, every stuttered moan I couldn’t hold back.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured. “It feels good… doesn’t it?”

I couldn’t answer. I was too busy fighting my own body, my own traitorous heat, the pressure winding tighter and tighter in my core. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing it away, willing him away?—

The vibrator increased again.

I whimpered, my thighs trembling as my grip on the belt slackened. I was so close, the pleasure spiraling out of control, my body burning under his control, his fucking voice holding me in place as effectively as any bond.

“Say it, sweetheart.” His voice was silk and steel. “Say you’re mine.”

I refused. I wouldn’t.

The pleasure swelled, cresting so high I couldn’t breathe. I bit my lip, choking on the sound that threatened to escape, my body trembling on the edge?—

And then I hung up.

The silence was deafening. My phone dropped onto the nest beside me, my entire body shuddering as I finally, finally tipped over the edge, pleasure rolling through me in waves—alone, unseen?—

My phone buzzed.

One message. One simple, devastating line.

Unknown Number: Such a tease.

The heat still hadn’t faded from my skin when I stumbled out of the nest, legs shaking, frustration crawling under my skin like something alive. I needed a shower. I needed to think.

But first, I needed to get my fucking slick off me.

By the time I left the apartment, the cool air felt like a slap to my overheated skin, cutting through the lingering remnants of my frustration. My body was still betraying me, my scent still running too rich, too warm, but I ignored it. I forced my feet forward, my hands shoved deep into my jacket pockets, and let the walk clear my head.

I didn’t know where I was going until I was already there.

The bookstore was quiet, but my heart wasn’t.

The moment I stepped inside, the scent of old paper and vanilla hit me, grounding me in a space that felt safe—at least safer than my own body at the moment. I had to focus. I had to find something, anything, that could tell me how to break a bond.

My fingers trailed over the spines of books, searching. Most were about traditional pair bonding, scent compatibility, and how to strengthen ties—not sever them.

I exhaled sharply, pulling a thick tome from the shelf: The Biology of Bonds.

Flipping through the pages, my eyes scanned for anything remotely useful. Breaking a bond is rare, often deemed impossible without extreme physical intervention. My stomach clenched. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. My fingers tightened on the page as I kept reading. Bond-severing attempts often result in permanent physiological distress, ranging from chronic pain to the complete loss of the ability to bond again.

My pulse skipped. There had to be something. A loophole. A way out.

I grabbed another book, flipping through its index, trying to ignore the persistent heat still simmering under my skin fromearlier. I was so deep in my search, so desperate for information, that I almost didn’t hear my phone buzz. It hammered against my ribs as I skimmed the shelves, my fingertips tracing over the spines of old tomes and modern paperbacks, searching. The scent of old ink and dust curled in my nose, mixing with the warm undertone of polished wood and vanilla candles burning on the counter.

I grabbed a book, flipping through the pages too fast to make sense of the words. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I swallowed hard before pulling it out.

Unknown Number: I have a tab at that bookstore. Just tell the cashier it’s under Cross.

The name hit me like a cold slap.

Cross.

A memory surfaced, sharp and unwanted. Pack Cross. I had gone on a few dates with them before they told me I wasn’t the omega for them. It had stung at the time, but I had moved on.

But this… he… couldn’t be related. Could he?

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