Page 92 of The Alpha Under My Bed

Julian sighed, the sound laced with something almost pitying, something that sent rage burning slow and hot beneath my skin. “You always were stubborn,” he mused, shaking his head. “But Mal, she’s?—”

“Not Ellie.”

The words came out flat. Final.

Because that was the only thing that fucking mattered.

Julian’s jaw flexed. “She’s our match.”

“And Ellie is my mate.”

He exhaled through his nose, patience thinning, temper simmering just beneath the surface. “Then you’ll have two.”

The words dripped with certainty, as if this was a solution, not a problem. As if the very idea of rejecting my scent match was unthinkable.

Then, with a slow, practiced flick of his wrist, he gave the silent signal.

The doors opened.

And everything changed.

A scent hit me—soft, delicate, and dangerously inviting. It slithered through the room, a silent command that whispered to every primal instinct buried deep in my bones. Warm and sweet, it wrapped itself around me like a lover’s touch—subtle, but unmistakable. Every inhale was a calculated seduction, designed to ensnare, to weaken, to bind.

But it wasn’tEllie.

My mind screamed the truth, but my body didn’t listen.

Something inside me reacted before my brain could even catch up—a violent, gut-churning twist, a sharp, visceral pull that had nothing to do with logic or choice. It didn’t care that I had spent years loving her, that I had sworn loyalty to someone else.

This was something deeper. Something I had no control over.

The alphas around me stiffened, their shoulders straightening with the ease of predators recognizing their prey. Their tension evaporated into something far more dangerous—satisfaction. This was what they’d been waiting for. The moment they had been preparing for.

Because the omega standing before me?

Iknewwho she was.

Genevieve Laurent.

Her name had drifted through high society for years, carried in the hushed, reverent tones of alphas who dreamed of a matelike her. She was pedigreed perfection, a genetic masterpiece designed for breeding contracts and power plays. The kind of omega people killed for.

And I had never given her a second thought.

Because I had never scented her.

Not until now.

My body betrayed me first. A deep, instinct-driven breath dragged her scent into my lungs, latching onto my biology like a parasite, like a trick. My stomach turned as my muscles coiled tight, a sickening, foreign pull twisting through my instincts.

And that was the cruelest fucking joke of all.

Julian smirked, his satisfaction palpable as he watched my reaction, as he saw the way my body responded, even as my mind rejected everything about this.

“She’s exquisite, isn’t she?” he murmured, his voice smooth, coaxing. “Genetically selected. Your perfect match.” His eyes gleamed, a slow, victorious tilt curling the edges of his lips. “Your fated mate.”

My stomach churned, my jaw clenching so hard my teeth ached.

Genevieve.

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