One Night Stand With the Alpha Who Rejected Me-
"You smell that, little wolf?"
The whisper didn't come from the air, but from the back of Sharon’s mind, a dark vibration that made her fingers curl tightly around the steering wheel. She killed the engine, the silence of the coastal drive suddenly feeling heavy. The scent was faint—a ghost of cedar, rain-drenched earth, and something metallic that made her inner wolf pace with frantic, jagged energy.
She hadn't smelled that scent in four years.
"Not possible," Sharon whispered to the empty car. She forced her breathing to level out, her eyes scanning the gravel path leading to her cottage. The Oregon mist was rolling in, thick and gray, swallowing the pines. Everything looked normal. Her small porch light was on, the flowerbeds she’d spent all spring weeding were damp from the afternoon drizzle, and the curtains were drawn. It was the picture of a quiet, human life.
Then the front door flew open.
"Mama! You're home!" Alexander came charging off the porch, his small boots thumping against the wood before he hit the gravel at a full sprint.
Sharon was out of the car before he could reach her, bracing herself as he launched into her arms. Even at five years old, Alexander had the explosive strength of his lineage, his small body a compact bundle of energy. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of flour and laundry detergent.
"Oof, you're getting so big, Xander," she laughed, though her eyes never stopped moving, searching the tree line for shadows that didn't belong.
"Blie let me help with the pancakes!" he announced, his voice vibrating against her chest. "I flipped one and it didn't even fall on the floor!"
"That’s my boy," Sharon said, finally setting him down but keeping a firm hand on his shoulder.
Blie stepped out onto the porch, her infant daughter strapped to her chest in a soft wrap. She offered a tired but warm smile. "He’s a natural in the kitchen, Sharon. My little one, on the other hand, decided today was the day for a twelve-hour lung capacity test."
"I'm sorry, Blie. I owe you one," Sharon said, her voice sounding tight even to her own ears.
"Don't worry about it. You look exhausted. Rough shift?"
"Something like that," Sharon replied, her gaze flickering to the woods behind Blie's head. The shadows there seemed too deep, too intentional. "The wind is picking up. You should probably get the baby inside."
Blie frowned slightly, sensing the shift in Sharon’s mood, but she nodded. "Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow? Don't forget we're doing the park run."
"I won't. Get home safe."
Once Blie’s car disappeared down the road, Sharon ushered Alexander inside and locked the door. She slid the deadbolt home with a decisive click, but the hollow feeling in her stomach didn't vanish. The kitchen was a disaster zone of sticky syrup and flour, but she didn't have the heart to complain. Alexander babbled through dinner, recounting every second of his day, but Sharon could barely hear him over the roar of her own pulse.
A sharp cramp twisted in her gut—low, hot, and sudden. She gasped, dropping her fork.
"Mama? You okay?" Alexander’s big brown eyes were wide with worry.
"I'm fine, honey. Just a little stomach ache. I think I worked too hard today," she lied, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"You should sleep. I can tuck myself in," he offered bravely.
"In a minute, baby. Let's get you cleaned up first."
The routine of bath time and stories usually acted as a shield, but tonight, every creak of the floorboards sounded like an intrusion. As she tucked the covers around Alexander’s chin, the memory she’d been fighting all day finally broke through her defenses.
“You want to come, don’t you, little wolf?”
The voice in the memory was a low growl, vibrating through the small of her back. She could almost feel Luthor’s hands on her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he held her arched against the headboard. The room in her mind was dark, smelling of sex and dominance.
“Please,” she’d whimpered, her palms slipping against the wood. “Luthor—Alpha—please.”
“Good girl,” he’d murmured, his teeth grazing the sensitive cord of her neck. “Tell me who owns this. Say it.”
“Yours,” she’d sobbed, the pleasure so intense it felt like pain. “Always yours.”
“Damn right.”
The memory of him filling her, the sheer, overwhelming power of his knot and his will, made her knees buckle in the present. She gripped the edge of Alexander’s bed, her breath coming in ragged hitches.
"Mama?" Alexander’s voice was a tiny thread in the dark.
Sharon shook her head, dragging herself back to reality. "Go to sleep, Xander. I'm right in the other room."
She stumbled into the living room, her skin feeling too tight for her bones. She didn't turn on the lights. Instead, she sat on the sofa, watching the front door. The cramps were getting worse, a rhythmic tightening that felt less like an illness and more like a physical reaction to a presence she couldn't see.
"Mama?"
She jumped, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest. Alexander was standing in the hallway, his face pale in the moonlight.
"Xander, I told you to stay in bed."
"There’s a man," he whispered, his bottom lip trembling. "He was at my window. He was just... looking."
The world turned cold. Sharon stood up, her movements fluid and predatory as her wolf rose to the surface. She grabbed a heavy fire iron from the hearth, her senses expanding.
Crunch.
The sound was faint—a single footstep on the gravel outside. It was slow, deliberate, and utterly confident. It wasn't the sound of a prowler. It was the sound of a king returning to his territory.
The scent hit her again, no longer a ghost but a tidal wave. Cedar. Rain. Smoke.
Luthor.
"Stay behind me," Sharon commanded, her voice dropping into a low, warning growl that made Alexander scramble to hide behind her legs.
She moved to the door. Her hand shook as she reached for the handle, but she forced it still. She was no longer the terrified girl who had fled in the middle of the night. She was a mother, and she was a wolf of this pack, even if it was a pack of two.
She swung the door open.
The man standing on her porch was a mountain of shadow and muscle. He was dressed in a dark coat that caught the mist, his hair longer than she remembered, his jaw shadowed with stubble. But his eyes—those gold-flecked, predatory eyes—were exactly the same. They tracked her with a terrifying intensity, moving from her face, down to her throat, and then settling on the small boy peeking out from behind her.
Luthor’s mouth curved into a slow, devastating smile.
"Hello, little wolf," he said, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very floorboards under her feet. "You’ve been very hard to find."
"Leave," Sharon rasped, her grip tightening on the iron. "You have no right to be here."
Luthor took a step forward, and even though he didn't touch her, the sheer weight of his Alpha presence made the air in the room feel thin. He ignored her weapon, his focus entirely on Alexander.
"Is that him?" Luthor asked, his voice softening into something even more dangerous. "Is that my son?"
"He's my son," Sharon hissed, stepping further in front of Alexander. "He has nothing to do with you or your pack. We left that life behind."
"You left," Luthor corrected, his eyes snapping back to hers with a sudden, sharp heat. "I never let you go. And a wolf doesn't forget his mate, Sharon. No matter how many miles she puts between them."
He reached out, his hand hovering just inches from her face. Sharon flinched, but she didn't back down. She could feel the heat radiating from him, the same heat that had once been her entire world.
"You smell like him," Luthor murmured, his nostrils flaring as he took in her scent. "But beneath that... you still smell like me. Like you’re still waiting for me to finish what we started."
Another cramp seized her, and this time, Sharon couldn't hide the small moan of pain. Luthor’s expression shifted instantly from smug to predatory. He was inside the house before she could swing the iron, his hand wrapping around her wrist with the force of a steel trap. He disarmed her effortlessly, the iron clattering to the rug.
"You're in heat," he growled, his eyes darkening until the gold was almost gone. "My presence triggered it. Your body knows I’m here, Sharon. It’s calling for me."
"No," she gasped, trying to pull away, but he pulled her flush against his chest.
Alexander let out a small, frightened whimper. Luthor’s head snapped toward the boy, his gaze softening for a fleeting second before returning to Sharon.
"Take the boy to his room," Luthor commanded, his voice vibrating with the Alpha tone that demanded absolute obedience. "Now. We have things to discuss that aren't for his ears."
Sharon fought it. She clawed at his arm, her teeth bared, but the biological pull was too strong. Her wolf was howling, not in fear, but in recognition. Her body was betraying her, the heat blooming in her core until she was shaking with it.
"Go, Alexander," Sharon managed to choke out. "Go to your room and lock the door. Don't come out until I say."
The boy didn't hesitate, terrified by the raw energy rolling off the man in their living room. He bolted down the hall, and the sound of his door slamming shut seemed to signal the end of Sharon’s resistance.
Luthor didn't waste a second. He backed her against the wall, his hands pinning hers above her head. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply.
"Four years," he breathed against her skin. "Do you have any idea what I’ve done to find you? Do you know what I’m going to do to you now that I have?"
"I hate you," she whispered, even as she arched her neck to give him better access.
"I know," he murmured, his teeth grazing her marking spot. "But you’re still mine. And tonight, I’m going to remind every cell in your body who your Alpha is."
He hoisted her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. The fire she’d tried so hard to extinguish was roaring back to life, fueled by the man who had started it. As he carried her toward the bedroom, Sharon knew her quiet, human life was over. The Alpha had come to claim his own, and the little wolf had nowhere left to run.
