In Bed With My Ex's Brother-in-Law

Elena's POV

Someone pounded on my door, yanking me from unconsciousness. I peeled myself from the bed sheets, every muscle screaming after back-to-back nights at the office left me completely drained.

Moving toward the entrance while still half-asleep, I finally had a day off and couldn't wait to rest. When I opened the door, a uniformed security officer stood waiting outside.

"Miss Elena?" He spoke without emotion, stating facts.

Still groggy, I rubbed my face. "Yeah? What's going on?"

"Officer Ken. Mr. Dalton sent me. You need to leave this apartment right away."

His words made no sense. Mr. Dalton-Mark-my boyfriend.

I let out a shaky laugh. "Is this some kind of prank? Because it's not funny."

"No prank, ma'am." A document appeared in his hand, thrust toward my face. Official orders bearing Mark Dalton's signature. Everything inside me went cold.

"Wait. this can't be happening," I managed, my throat tight. "Mark's my boyfriend. Everything's fine between us. He wouldn't do something like this..."

"Your position at Thompson Crest Enterprise has been terminated, according to him."

Terminated. The corporate jargon cut deep. "Excuse me?"

He just stood there, offering nothing more. Frozen in my doorway, confusion twisted into hot fury as I held his gaze.

"Someone made a mistake!" My voice climbed higher. "I'm calling Mark. Right now."

Without waiting, I rushed back inside, snatched my phone, and dialed the number burned into my memory. Straight to voicemail-automated and impersonal.

Panic flooded over the anger. Racing back to the door, my confidence collapsed. "I have to talk to Mark! This is insane. Where am I even supposed to go?"

Officer Ken checked his watch deliberately. "Ten minutes to collect your belongings, ma'am."

"Are you actually serious right now?" Fear sharpened my words. "Where is he? I need to see him!"

"Mr. Dalton isn't available today," he replied, maddeningly calm while I fell apart. Then he dropped the real bomb: "He's busy with his wedding."

The floor disappeared beneath me. My lungs forgot how to work.

Something flickered in his expression-sympathy? amusement? "You really didn't know? Everyone's been talking about it for weeks."

My hands started shaking uncontrollably. Weeks? I'd been drowning in work, surviving on caffeine and deadlines. Mark kept praising how dedicated I was, his voice full of what I'd stupidly thought was real affection.

"You're amazing, Elena. This proposal is brilliant. Just get through these last few days. I've got something special planned for you."

Last night, his text promised a "surprise" after all my effort. Today he delivered a "Surprise Bomb" all right.

I pushed past Ken into the hallway. Across the street, the huge digital billboard that usually showed luxury advertisements was broadcasting something live.

"Thompson-Dalton Union: The Wedding of the Decade!"

Gold letters sparkled across the screen.

Mark Dalton-my lover, my boss-was today promising his life to another woman.

***

Inside the taxi, I frantically scrolled through social media feeds I never had time to check. Each swipe felt like a knife wound.

Hashtags trending worldwide: #PowerCouple and #FairytaleWedding. I consumed every article desperately, piecing together a picture of calculated betrayal that took my breath away.

My boyfriend-ex-boyfriend-was marrying another woman while the entire planet celebrated.

Then I saw her. Bella Thompson. Her profile showed someone almost otherworldly beautiful, but what really knocked the air from my chest was her background.

Sister to Eric Thompson, the most powerful Alpha in the Northeast, leading the prestigious Silver Crest pack.

Understanding hit like a freight train. Obviously. This wasn't about love; it was a business transaction.

She came with everything-connections, influence, a legacy woven into elite werewolf society itself.

What could my late nights, my carefully prepared presentations, possibly compete with an entire empire?

Tears threatened, but something hotter burned underneath-pure, justified rage.

So what if I'm human? So what if I started with nothing? Even if this involved some fated mate thing I'd heard them whisper about, how could he betray me like this?

Two years. Two years of loving him, supporting him, being everything he needed. My reward? An eviction notice from a stranger and watching him marry someone else as my goodbye gift.

I needed answers. Not corporate speak, not polite rejection. I needed to confront him face-to-face.

The cab stopped. Silver Crown Estate rose before me-dramatic Gothic architecture with soaring towers, windows catching light like ice, and gardens that belonged in magazines.

Pain twisted inside my chest. I'd once doodled "Elena Dalton" during boring meetings, imagining this kind of day for us. The irony physically hurt.

Scanning the entrance, I spotted perfectly dressed wolf-shifter guards standing watch, radiating complete authority. A human girl with swollen eyes and broken dreams had zero chance of getting past them. Then I noticed something-a catering van parked at the service entrance, back doors hanging open while workers unloaded champagne crates. A slim opportunity.

Pulse racing, I moved quickly. During the chaos of deliveries, I slipped into the van's dark cargo area, flattening myself between cold metal shelves just as the doors slammed shut. The engine started.

When the van stopped inside the estate grounds, I waited until the drivers walked away before climbing out. My plain dress stood out badly among the staff's uniforms, but I tried acting as if I belonged, heading toward the main hall while my mind spun.

"Excuse me, you can't just wander around," someone said sharply.

Looking up, I found a stern woman holding a clipboard and wearing a headset. Her nametag read: Event Coordinator - G. Pierce.

"Sorry, I..." Quickly wiping my eyes, I forced a wobbly smile. "I'm with the groom's family. Just got here from out of town. Kind of lost. Could you tell me where he is? I have something to give him before the ceremony."

She studied me, noticing my lack of any guest pass. But mentioning "family" combined with the desperate hope in my expression seemed enough. She pointed impatiently toward a separate wing of the estate.

"Groom's preparation suite. Past the courtyard, the building covered in ivy. Room 25. Hurry though, the procession starts in twenty minutes."

"Thank you," I whispered, barely hearing myself over my pounding heart.

I'll admit some grim satisfaction in my ability to sneak around. Getting past distracted guards and into the groom's suite felt like one last desperate act-a ghost haunting its former life.

And there he stood.

Mark admired himself in a full-length mirror, looking absolutely perfect in formal black tails-exactly how I'd once pictured him on our wedding day. His eyes caught mine in the reflection. Brief surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by that familiar, lazy smirk that now felt like it was burning me.

"You actually found your way here?" he said casually, not fully turning around. "I wondered how long before you figured things out."

My fingers gripped my purse strap until the leather cut into my skin.

"What is this, Mark?" My voice came out tight, ready to break.

He finally pivoted, his gaze sweeping over me from my disheveled hair to my off-the-rack dress-a look that lingered with palpable distaste. Then, with a casual wave of his hand, he gestured to the opulent suite, the waiting bouquet of calla lilies, the glittering cufflinks on the velvet tray.

"Isn't it pretty clear? I'm getting married." His tone was completely flat, showing zero guilt.

My heart sank, but I forced the words out. "Why, Mark? We were-"

"There is no 'we' anymore," he interrupted sharply, adjusting his already perfect tie. "I'm marrying Bella. I can't be connected to... distractions from before. Some girl from nowhere, with nothing."

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, trying to counter the humiliation flooding through me. "You said none of that mattered to you..."

He laughed coldly, mockingly. "Elena, please. Don't tell me you actually believed what men say to get what they want?"

Shaking his head in condescension, he continued. "You were entertaining. Convenient, admiring, always available. But honestly, you held back like we were living in some Victorian novel. Frankly, you should thank me for keeping you around this long."

Tears came then, hot and unstoppable, each one burning proof of how naive I'd been. This wasn't just heartbreak; it was complete destruction of every memory, every promise I'd treasured.

Mark's expression stayed frozen. He turned back to the mirror, dismissing me completely. "Leave, Elena. You're embarrassing yourself. You served your purpose. I'm done with you."

White-hot rage exploded inside me, burning away the pain. My eyes landed on a champagne flute sitting nearby-probably for his pre-ceremony toast.

I didn't think. I simply acted.

Grabbing the glass, I threw the contents straight at him. Golden liquid flew through the air, catching the light before splashing across his perfectly styled hair and pristine jacket.

"Have you completely lost your mind, you crazy girl?!" he screamed, jumping back as champagne dripped everywhere, destroying his perfect image. Brutal satisfaction cut through my fury.

"Did you expect me to just watch you throw me away and wish you happiness?" My voice came out low, shaking with wild, liberated madness.

I caught his horrified reflection in the mirror.

"Look at yourself now. Your perfect hair is destroyed. Think you'll make it to the ceremony on time? Or maybe I should visit your bride first? I have so many stories about the real Mark Dalton."

Terror and rage fought across his face. He grabbed for a towel, frantically wiping at the sticky mess, his composure completely shattered.

"Guards!" he yelled, his voice cracking as he rushed toward the door and yanked it open. "Get this crazy woman out of here! Now! Throw her out!"

Strong hands seized my arm, another guard ripping my purse away. My screams were raw and ragged, disappearing into the fancy hallway as they dragged me-fighting and scratching-toward the elevator. With one final, disgusted shove, they threw me inside. My purse landed beside me as the doors closed, sealing me in this silent metal tomb dropping downward.

I collapsed onto the cold floor, tremors wracking my body-a volatile cocktail of shattered heartbreak and unspent fury. Drawing my knees to my chest, I clutched my bag like a lifeline. Hot, silent tears carved paths through the remnants of my dignity.

Everything hurt. My pride, my heart, the entire future I'd foolishly built in my mind. Even the will to stand up had abandoned me. What was the point?

The elevator chimed, a soft, polite sound absurdly at odds with my internal ruin. The doors slid open. I didn't look up. I couldn't.

Until a pair of impeccably polished black Oxfords stepped into the periphery of my blurred vision, halting directly before me.

The air in the small cabin shifted, grew heavier, charged with a presence that was impossible to ignore.

"Elena Grey?"

I froze. My breathing stopped. Slowly, painfully, I raised my eyes.

Standing before me was, without question, the most devastatingly handsome man I'd ever encountered.

Tall, with a build that spoke of controlled power rather than brute bulk, he was elegance personified in a tailored charcoal suit that likely cost more than my annual salary.

Dark hair swept back from a commanding brow, and his eyes. His eyes were a penetrating, storm-cloud grey, holding an intensity that seemed to see right through the wreckage I presented.

This was Alpha Eric Thompson.

CEO of Thompson Crest Enterprises.

Most powerful Alpha of the Silver Crest pack.

And he was staring down at me with a look that wasn't pity or contempt, but something darker-smoldering, carnal heat.

My heart didn't just skip a beat; it stuttered to a dead halt before galloping against my ribs like a trapped bird.

Why him? Why now?

Elena's POV

His gaze locked onto me without wavering. Meeting it sent a jolt through my system-something intense, primal, almost confrontational in its ferocity. Suddenly, I felt stripped bare, as if his stare alone could peel away every layer I'd wrapped around myself.

And yet, I couldn't look away. Wouldn't.

Our gazes tangled in a wordless battle, the world beyond the elevator's mirrored walls dissolving into irrelevance. As his eyes traced a slow path over my tear-streaked face, my rumpled dress, heat flooded my veins while my heartbeat hammered against my ribs.

Some traitorous part of me-some deep, animal instinct I didn't know I possessed-screamed to launch myself into his arms, to demand he finish with his mouth what he'd started with those devastating eyes.

The thought jolted me back to reality like ice water down my spine.

What the hell are you doing, Elena?

I mentally slapped myself, hard. This man was Eric Thompson. Billionaire Alpha. The most powerful wolf in the Eastern Seaboard.

And-the cruelest cut of all-the future brother-in-law to Mark!

People at their level never look twice at women like me-not for anything real, anyway. Mark had taught me that lesson in the most brutal way possible. I wouldn't-couldn't-be that foolish again.

I scrambled to my feet, wiping furiously at my cheeks with the back of my hand. I clutched my purse to my chest like a shield.

I made to step around him, toward the open doors and blessed escape.

He didn't move.

A wall of muscle and power in an exquisite suit, he remained planted in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame. One eyebrow lifted a fraction of an inch.

"You cannot walk out like that." His voice was ice as he stared down at me, those penetrating eyes raking over me with an intensity that felt like a physical brand.

"Like what?" I snapped, following his gaze downward.

Oh, God.

My breath caught as I finally saw it-the bodice of my dress was torn, gaping open to expose far too much of my chest. Heat flooded my cheeks. The guards. The struggle. They must have ripped it during that brutal drag to the elevator. I fumbled to gather the torn fabric, pressing it closed with one shaking hand pressed against my sternum.

But why did he sound so possessive about it? As if I belonged to him? I couldn't recall ever being this close to him before, never having exchanged a single word. I masked my mortification, lifting my chin in defiance.

"What I wear is my choice," I said firmly, attempting to step around him.

His arm shot out, wrapping around my waist, and he hauled me back against him with breathtaking ease.

I couldn't tolerate this-this casual assumption of authority over my body. I pushed against his chest, struggling to break free. But the moment my palms made contact with the heat of him through that fine suit, a jolt of raw desire shot through my fingers, arcing straight to my core. I trembled. Our eyes met, and I watched his darken, the storm clouds gathering into something thunderous.

"Don't even think about it," he bit out, the words dripping with arrogant disdain. "I will not allow anyone to appear at my sister's wedding looking so indecent, so disgraceful."

That did it. That smug, sanctimonious tone ignited something feral in me.

I dropped my purse to the floor with a satisfying thud. Before I could think, before I could question my own sanity, I grabbed the ruined, dangling bodice and yanked.

The fabric tore away completely, the sound loud in the charged silence. What remained was a tight, sleeveless micro-dress that barely skimmed my thighs.

"Now are you satisfied?!" I spat, my chest heaving, my eyes blazing into his.

He went utterly still.

Then a low sound-almost a growl-escaped him. In one motion he grabbed me and pressed me against the wall, his body crowding mine dangerously close. His earthy scent surrounded me, overwhelming my senses while my pulse went wild and my legs threatened to give out.

"What the hell are you playing at?" he growled near my neck, his breath hot against my skin, eyes darker than before. "Is this your game? Parading yourself to lure men?"

"What shit are you talking about?" I scolded and pushed hard against his chest. "I'm trapped in an elevator with a torn dress-what exactly was I supposed to do? What would YOU have done?"

His jaw tightened to granite. He said nothing.

Without another word, he yanked off his jacket and threw it around my shoulders. Before I could process what happened, he hit the button. The doors slid open, and he strode out, leaving me standing there shaken, wrapped in fabric that smelled like him.

I stepped out wearing his jacket as the elevator doors shut coldly behind me.

Humiliation burned through me like wildfire, his accusations echoing in my skull-those cruel, cutting words implying I was some kind of wanton creature, flaunting myself for male attention. Rage lodged in my throat, thick and suffocating.

And yet.

I pulled his jacket tighter. That wild, masculine scent wrapped around me, sinking into my skin, making my legs weak, stirring something I desperately tried to suppress, something I refused to acknowledge.

I hated it. Hated that my body responded this way. Hated that it was HIM-of all people.

Eric Thompson-brother to the woman who'd stolen Mark away from me. The absolute last man I should feel anything for--

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."

The mocking voice stopped me cold as I hurried toward the exit, desperate to escape this nightmare. I looked up.

Selene. Mark's sister.

I kept walking. I had no energy for her games.

But she stepped directly into my path, blocking my escape.

"What are you doing here, Elena?" Her tone dripped with contempt. "Hoping to trap my brother again?"

Before I could respond, two of her friends joined her. Their eyes dragged over me with open disgust, their lips curled in mockery.

"Trap your brother again?" I scoffed. "Please. I wouldn't touch that gold-digging, smooth-talking traitor with a ten-foot pole."

"Listen to who's talking!" Selene's voice pitched higher, and her friends erupted in sycophantic laughter. "If you're not interested, then why are you here? To cry and beg him to take you back? Don't you have any shame, showing your face here?"

"What I do here is none of your business-or your snake of a brother's, Selene." I matched her venom with my own.

Her eyes hardened. "Deny it all you want, but we won't have trash like you hanging around to ruin this big day. Get out."

"Oh, please." I stood my ground, not budging an inch. "Whatever sordid little drama you people have going on here has nothing to do with me. I dumped your pathetic brother long before any of this happened."

My defiance only fueled her rage. She snapped her fingers, shrieking, "Security! Over here! Get this piece of garbage out of my sight!"

I didn't move.

The two guards approached-then stopped dead. Their eyes fell on the jacket draped over my shoulders. Their nostrils flared as they caught the scent radiating from it: the unmistakable, overpowering signature of an Alpha.

They hesitated.

Selene followed their gaze. When she registered the jacket-and the wild, dominant pheromones clinging to it-her face contorted with ugly recognition.

"Whore," she spat, the word dripping with poison. "That's all you're good for, isn't it? Spreading your legs for anyone with power."

Something inside me snapped.

My hand moved before my brain could intervene.

Crack.

The slap echoed through the corridor, my palm connecting with her cheek in a satisfying explosion of impact.

She gasped, clutching her face, too stunned to retaliate.

"Miss Elena." One of the guards spoke stiffly, carefully avoiding my eyes. "Please leave the premises."

I was already walking, my spine rigid, my pulse roaring in my ears. I didn't look back. No one dared stop me. The guards kept their distance, their gazes flickering nervously to the jacket still draped across my shoulders.

***

Outside, the weather changed suddenly and rain began to pour down without mercy. Within seconds, I was soaked and shivering. Panic tightened my chest as I thought of the jacket. I couldn't let it be ruined. I hurried into a dark corner beside the building where there was some shelter, pressing my back to the wall and praying the rain would ease.

That was when I sensed it.

Low voices. Rough laughter. And heavy footsteps drawing closer.

I looked up, and my stomach dropped.

Three men emerged from the shadows, their eyes crawling over me with slow, deliberate intent.

"God..." The whisper escaped my lips, barely audible over the drumming rain. "Someone-anyone-get me out of this."

Elena's POV

The rain hammered down harder, drumming against the shelter as if it knew I was trapped.

The three men spread out slowly around me, blocking the light and the air. Their eyes moved over me with mischief, and my heart pounded hard.

Oh God, I need help! I prayed.

"Well now, what do we have here?" one drawled without any trace of kindness in his smile. "All by yourself in this little hideaway."

The second chuckled, a low, ugly sound. "And dressed like that. A bit obvious, don't you think?"

My fingers clenched around the jacket as I pressed myself harder against the concrete wall.

"Stay back," I warned, forcing steel into my voice despite the tremor threatening to betray me. "I don't want any trouble."

They exchanged glances, amusement flickering in their eyes.

"Trouble?" The first one scoffed. "Who said anything about trouble? We're just here to keep you company."

My heart kept pounding so loud I was sure they could hear it. I glanced around, searching for an opening, any way out. There was none. Yet I decided to push through.

The moment I tried to run past them, one of them stepped in front of me, fast and effortless. "Not so quick," he said.

I turned the other way but was locked again. My breath came in sharp gasps as panic set in. Then a pair of hands grabbed the jacket.

"Let go!" I shrieked, but they yanked it away, the fabric slipping from my grasp. Cold air hit my rain-soaked skin. The sleeveless dress clung to me like a second skin, translucent and obscenely revealing.

"Damn," the first man breathed, his gaze raking over me with naked hunger. "Look at you. Playing hard to get in that?"

The second laughed outright, his eyes crawling over every curve. "Wandering around dressed like a wet dream, and you expect us to believe you're innocent?"

Shame scalded me, hotter than any fear. I wrapped my arms around myself, trembling violently. "It's not what you think!" I snapped. "Stay away from me!"

They didn't stay away. They advanced.

I swung wildly, trying to connect with anything-a face, a throat, anything to fight back. But I was human, and they were wolves. I never stood a chance.

One caught my wrist, twisting it behind my back with brutal efficiency. Pain shot through my shoulder.

"Let me go!" I screamed, thrashing.

The second stepped in, grabbing my waist, his fingers digging into my skin. "Relax," he murmured against my ear. "We're just having a little fun."

I kicked. I fought. I threw everything I had into breaking free. It was useless. I was shaking, soaked, weak.

"Help!" I screamed again, my voice cracking with terror. "Someone help me!"

Their laughter echoed. "Who's listening?" one mocked. "Everyone's at that big wedding ceremony."

Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the rain. Fear crushed my chest, making it impossible to breathe. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying-begging-for something, anyone to save me.

One of them reached for my thigh.

Then-

"Get your hands off her. Now."

The next few moments blurred into chaos.

One rogue was hurled aside as if he weighed nothing. Another screamed as he hit the ground with a sickening crunch. The third didn't even have time to flee. Eric moved with lethal precision-no wasted motion, no mercy-only raw, devastating power. When it was over, the rogues groaned and scrambled away, crawling into the rain like the vermin they were.

Then he turned to me.

The fury in his eyes banked slightly as they found mine.

And my legs gave out.

Strong arms caught me before I hit the ground, pulling me against a solid chest. I clutched his coat without thinking, my fingers digging in as my body shook.

"I've got you," he said quietly.

I couldn't stop trembling. The cold had seeped into my bones, and my head felt light. His hand brushed my forehead, his touch suddenly urgent.

"You're burning up," he muttered. "Damn it."

He lifted me easily, holding me close as if I weighed nothing at all.

I buried my face against his chest, drawing in his warmth. His scent surrounded me and made everything else fade away.

"Keep your eyes open, Elena," he said with quiet force.

I managed a weak nod, holding onto him like he was my only lifeline. He carried me toward the car with steady strides.

"Closest hospital," he told the driver. "Move fast."

The door slammed shut, sealing out the storm. I was still shaking-violently, uncontrollably. Ice ran through my veins while my head throbbed with feverish heat.

"Stop moving," he instructed.

I tried to obey, I really did. But my body had its own agenda. My fingers found him again, fisting in the fabric of his shirt, pulling myself closer to the furnace of his body.

"I'm so cold." The whisper escaped me, pathetic and small.

His breath caught. Then he was stripping off his jacket, draping it over me, his hands lingering a heartbeat longer than necessary as he tucked it around my shoulders.

"There," he breathed. "That'll warm you."

But the jacket wasn't enough. It only made me want to burrow deeper, closer. My grip on his shirt tightened, and I pressed myself against him, seeking more of that heat.

His jaw clenched. "You're not helping matters."

For reasons I couldn't begin to explain, his scent wrapped around me like an incantation, a spell I had no power to break. Eric's jacket had chased away the cold, but it had done something far more dangerous-it had scrambled my senses entirely. I craved more warmth. More of him.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was moving closer, climbing into his lap, straddling him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if my body recognized something my mind refused to accept.

"Elena." His voice was a warning-low, rough, strained to breaking. "Don't."

I barely heard him. The world had shrunk to the rhythm of his breathing, the thunder of his heart beneath my palm, the overwhelming presence of him filling every corner of my consciousness.

When my lips found his, something snapped.

He cursed-a raw, guttural sound-and then the privacy divider was sliding up, sealing us in a cocoon of darkness and heat. His pheromones flooded the space, thick and intoxicating, making my head spin and my bones ache with a sweet, unfamiliar longing. My kiss was clumsy, desperate, but it triggered something primal in him.

Every last thread of his control unraveled.

He hauled me closer, devouring my mouth with a hunger that spoke of years of restraint finally shattered. A moan escaped me-shameful, wanton-and my body responded in ways I'd never experienced. Pleasure rippled through me, sharp and overwhelming. Even with Mark, I'd never felt this-never this wild, this consuming, this utterly lost in another person.

I arched against him, grinding down, drunk on the heat building between us.

Eric matched my fervor, deepening the kiss as his hands explored, finding every place that made me weak, made me ache. His fingers slid between my thighs, parting me, finding the evidence of my arousal through the impossibly thin scrap of fabric that passed for underwear. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he hooked a finger beneath the delicate material, tugging-

The car stopped.

"Sir." The driver's voice filtered through, oblivious. "We've arrived."

The spell shattered.

Eric went rigid beneath me, every muscle locking as if doused in ice water. Then he was pulling back, his expression shuttering so completely it was as if a door had slammed shut between us.

"That should not have happened," he said, his voice rough gravel.

I wanted to ask why. I wanted to understand how we'd gone from that-from fire-to this frozen distance in the span of a heartbeat.

But the world was tilting, my vision blurring at the edges...

And then everything went dark.