Claimed By My Best Friend's Uncle, The Alpha

Erin Flynn POV:

A sharp light lanced through my eyelids, worsening the axe-splitting headache that pounded against my skull. I groaned, shifting against impossibly smooth silk sheets, only to realize I was completely naked in a stranger's bed. Panic seized my heart as the scent of pine and winter frost-an overwhelmingly dominant Alpha scent-enveloped me in a vast, cold presidential suite. I had actually done it. I had a one-night stand with a total stranger.

My memory was a blur of fragments. Kieran had been my fated mate, the boy I was destined to be with since we were children. But last night, he had shattered my world by publicly parading Jetta around as his chosen, sneering as he formally rejected me in front of the entire pack. The roar of laughter that followed. The burn of whiskey, shot after shot, at a bar called The Howling Moon.

Then, a tall figure.

He had sat beside me in the booth, a silent, imposing presence. His powerful aura had been a shield, deflecting the pitying and predatory glances.

I had clung to him like a lifeline.

In my drunken haze, I'd thought he was a Rogue for hire. A powerful, anonymous body to help me forget the humiliation. Flashes of the night rushed back to me in a heated wave-the bruising grip of his large hands on my waist, the frantic desperation as we tore at each other's clothes, and the scorching heat of his bare chest pressing against mine. I remembered arching into his hard, relentless thrusts, my own shameless moans mingling with his heavy breathing in the dark as he drove me over the edge again and again, his deep, dominant growl vibrating through my very core.

Oh, Goddess. What had I done?

My head turned stiffly on my neck.

Beside me, a man lay flat on his back, breathing deeply and evenly. His bare chest and shoulders were a landscape of hard muscle, etched with the kind of strength that came from centuries, not just years.

His jaw was sharp, his lips a thin, firm line. Even in sleep, he radiated an authority that was absolute.

A terrifying familiarity washed over me. I had seen him before. Somewhere.

I had to get out.

My limbs felt like lead as I slid out of the bed, my bones aching in protest of last night's frenzy.

My clothes were folded neatly on a chair. A glass of water sat beside them.

The small courtesy sent a fresh spike of fear through me. A Rogue for hire wouldn't be so considerate.

I dressed with trembling hands, feeling like a thief. I pulled all the cash from my wallet. Three hundred dollars. It was all I had.

It was an insult for a night like that, I knew. But I didn't care.

I placed the crumpled bills on the nightstand.

As I turned to leave, my eyes caught on his phone. The screen was dark, but the case bore a sigil I knew all too well.

A snarling black wolf.

The sigil of the Winters family. The most powerful pack in North America. My best friend Harley's family.

A horrifying thought struck me, so potent it stole my breath. Harley had complained endlessly about her uncle. A severe Alpha King who was more myth than man.

Barron Winters.

She said he was silent, his presence capable of freezing a room.

My blood ran cold.

I slept with my best friend's uncle? The legendary Lycan King?

The room spun. This was a thousand times worse than Kieran's rejection.

I had to run. Now. Before he woke up.

I didn't dare look back at the bed. One more glance and I felt his power might just crush me where I stood.

I lunged for the door, my hand fumbling with the handle.

The lock clicked open.

Just as I pulled the door ajar, a low, gravelly sound rumbled from behind me. A sleepy grunt.

My heart leaped into my throat.

I didn't look back. I burst into the hallway, running.

The thick carpet swallowed the sound of my frantic footsteps. My own ragged breathing filled the air.

I jabbed the elevator button, every second an eternity.

The doors slid open. I dove inside, mashing the "close door" button like a madwoman.

In the final sliver of space before the doors sealed, I saw it. The door to his suite opened. A tall, powerful silhouette stood against the light, his face obscured in shadow.

The elevator plummeted.

I collapsed against the cool metal wall, my legs giving out.

I had to get out of this city. I had to go somewhere he could never find me.

My hand shook as I pulled out my phone and dialed Harley. She was the only person I could think of.

She answered on the second ring, her voice impossibly cheerful. "Hey, Babe! Where'd you run off to last night?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came out. Shame and terror had stolen my voice.

Erin Flynn POV:

I stumbled out of the hotel's revolving door, clutching my phone.

The cool morning air hit my face but did nothing to quell the fire of panic inside me.

"Erin? You there? What's wrong?" Harley's voice crackled with concern from the phone.

Before I could invent a lie, a pink Porsche screeched to a halt in front of me.

The window rolled down, revealing Harley's face, a perfect mixture of worry and gossip-hungry curiosity.

"Goddess, you look like you've been chased by a wolf pack for three hundred miles!" she exclaimed.

Seeing her, the dam of my composure cracked. Tears pricked my eyes, but I forced them back. I could not tell her the truth.

I hung up and threw myself into the passenger seat, the soft leather swallowing me whole.

Harley immediately leaned in, sniffing the air around me like an eager puppy. "Whoa. Intense man scent. And definitely not Kieran the Asshole's. Spill. You went out and had some fun, didn't you?"

Her eyes were bright with excitement for me.

My mind raced, desperately searching for a plausible story. I couldn't say it was a Rogue; she'd worry herself sick. I definitely couldn't say it was her uncle; that would be a death sentence for us both.

Her expression softened as she took in my pale face and shifty eyes. "Erin, are you okay? This Alpha... he didn't hurt you, did he?"

Her concern was a physical pain in my chest. I was lying to my best friend.

An idea sparked. It based on a male revue show she'd dragged me to once.

"I... I hired a male entertainer," I croaked, my throat dry.

Harley stared at me for a second, then burst out laughing. She slammed her hand on the steering wheel, making the horn blare. "I knew it! That's my girl! Best way to get over an old prick is to get under a new one!"

She grabbed my shoulders, her excitement infectious. "Tell me everything! Was he good? Worth the money? Judging by that scent, he must be an Alpha-grade dancer. Is that a thing now?"

I was dizzy from her barrage of questions. I could only manage a weak nod. "He was... powerful. But... a little too quiet." I thought of Barron's deep, silent eyes.

"The strong, silent type? I love it!" Harley whistled, pulling the car into traffic. "You have to take me with you next time!"

"No!" I almost shouted. "It was a one-time thing. We're done."

Harley pouted. "Too bad. But probably safer that way."

"How did you find me?" I asked, desperate to change the subject.

She rolled her eyes. "You, that's how! You weren't answering my texts last night. I was worried you'd do something stupid, so I tracked your phone. Imagine my surprise when it pinged you at the Black Wolf Summit Hotel!"

The Black Wolf Summit. A Winters Corporation property. My stomach dropped.

"I tried to come up, but security stopped me," she continued, oblivious. "They said the top floor was booked by a 'very important guest.' I guess that was your 'entertainer,' huh? Pretty generous."

Cold sweat trickled down my back. The important guest... it was him. Barron Winters himself.

Harley chattered on. "Speaking of which, my fossil of an uncle is supposed to be visiting the office today. It's going to be a nightmare."

I felt my body go rigid. "Which uncle?"

"Who else? The scariest one, Barron!" Harley made a face. "My dad's at some Elder council meeting, so he left my uncle in charge. I can already feel the icy grip of hell."

My breath hitched. Barron Winters... was coming to my office?

Harley was still complaining about her uncle's tyrannical rules-no being a second late for meetings, zero tolerance for typos, and that terrifying, soul-freezing low pressure he carried everywhere.

I couldn't hear a word.

One thought consumed my mind: I have to leave. Now.

The car pulled up to my apartment building.

Harley patted my hand. "Don't worry, babe. It's all going to be okay. Forget Kieran the bastard, and forget the one-night-stand dancer. Tomorrow is a new day."

I forced a smile, pushed open the door, and fled into my building.

My life was over.

Erin Flynn POV:

I locked the door behind me and slid to the floor, my back pressed against the wood. The trembling started then, a deep, shuddering quake that came from my bones.

I stumbled into the bathroom and turned the shower on, twisting the knob until the water was scalding. It poured over me, but I felt nothing but a profound, soul-deep cold.

I scrubbed at my skin, desperate to wash his scent away. But it was no use. It felt like it was branded into me, a permanent mark on my soul.

The mirror reflected a ghost. Pale face, bloodless lips, and a constellation of purple bruises blooming across my neck and collarbone.

They were marks of shame. Reminders of my reckless abandon.

My eyes stared back at me, but my mind was three days in the past, at the pack gathering that had sent me spiraling into this hell.

I had been wearing my mother's moon-white dress. I stood beside Kieran Stephenson, the Alpha of the Stephenson Pack, my intended mate since childhood. Everyone expected him to formally announce our bonding.

Instead, he took another woman's hand. Jetta's.

He looked at me, his eyes cold and clinical. "Erin," he said, his voice ringing out for all to hear. "I, Kieran Stephenson, hereby reject you, Erin Flynn, as my mate."

According to the ancient laws of our kind, a public rejection inflicts a tearing pain on both souls. But the one who is rejected bears the double share of the agony. It felt like my very essence was being ripped in two.

The pack didn't offer sympathy. They offered whispers and mocking laughter. I was a cast-off, a worthless Omega.

My own father, Patrick Flynn, didn't even look at me. He was too busy schmoozing with the Stephenson elders, as if it wasn't his daughter who had just been publicly humiliated.

The memory faded. My nails dug into my palms, the sharp pain a welcome distraction.

That was why I'd gone to the bar. That was why I'd thrown myself at the first powerful man who wasn't part of that world. I thought a Rogue would be simple. A transaction. No strings, no attachments.

Instead, I'd found the Alpha at the very top of the food chain. An Alpha a thousand times more powerful, a million times more dangerous, than Kieran.

A rumor I'd once heard surfaced in my mind. Barron Winters had also been betrayed. An arranged mate, a woman from the Baird pack named Devorah, had broken their pact.

He knew my pain.

The thought didn't bring comfort. It brought terror.

A Lycan King, ancient and betrayed, would have a possessiveness that bordered on psychosis.

I could not let him claim me. I would not be a prize won, a bird locked in a golden cage.

I shut off the water and moved to the living room, grabbing my phone. I couldn't tell Harley the truth, but I could ask for advice.

I typed a message: Harley, what if... just what if, a really powerful, really stubborn man won't leave you alone?

Her video call came through instantly.

I hesitated, then answered. Her face, covered in a green clay mask, filled the screen.

"Oh my Goddess, babe, you don't mean the stripper, do you? Is he stalking you?" she asked, her voice tight with alarm.

I seized the lie. "Um... he seems to think it was more than just a paid gig."

Her expression hardened. "I knew it! Men who sell their bodies are the worst! Don't you worry, you tell me who he is and I'll have some of our warriors 'educate' him!"

"No! Don't!" I said, panicked. "I don't want to make a scene. I just want him to go away."

Harley considered this. "Okay. With a powerful Alpha, you can't fight force with force. You have to make him think you're worthless. Make him lose interest."

Worthless. The word stung, a fresh jab at an open wound.

"You need to give him money," she continued, warming to her idea. "An insulting amount of money. Like you're paying off a beggar. A proud Alpha can't stand that kind of humiliation."

Her words were a beacon in my fog of despair.

Yes. Insult him with money. Barron Winters, the Alpha King, could surely not tolerate being treated like a common Rogue, a man whose time could be bought and dismissed.

It was a brilliant, terrible idea.

I was going to do it.