Mated To My Best Friend's Alpha Father

Falon Haynes POV:

I pushed open the heavy double walnut doors of the Hamilton Group penthouse, my heels sinking into the plush wool rug.

In my trembling hand, I tightly gripped the freshly signed Mating Agreement.

Just yesterday, my arrogant ex-fiance, Casimer Conner, broke our engagement to secure a political alliance, smirking as he told me that a weak, family-less Omega like me would come crawling back to him in a week. He thought I was just a pet he could discard and reclaim at will.

He was wrong. Instead of crying, I walked straight into the territory of the most dangerous man in the city and signed a blood oath covenant.

Brock Hamilton. The ruthless Alpha of the Hamilton Pack, a billionaire CEO, and-ironically-the adoptive guardian of my best friend, Halie.

To the outside world, this marriage was just a mutually beneficial contract to get his Pack Elders off his back about finding a Luna. But stepping into his private domain, the reality of what I had just done finally hit me.

The living room was dark, illuminated only by the sprawling glow of Manhattan's neon skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It cast a sharp silhouette over the tall figure standing in the distance.

Brock had already stripped off his tailored suit jacket, tossing it carelessly over the back of the leather sofa.

He wore only a midnight-blue silk dress shirt, his broad shoulders and tapered waist exuding the suffocating dominance unique to a pureblood Alpha.

I stopped dead in my tracks three yards away, my pulse hammering in my throat.

He seemed to sense my hesitation and turned around slowly. In the dim light, his deep, ink-blue eyes locked directly onto mine with predatory precision.

He didn't speak. Instead, he walked toward the marble bar counter, his long fingers lifting a crystal decanter of amber bourbon.

He poured two glasses. The sharp clink of ice cubes against the crystal cut through the dead silence of the penthouse, vibrating against my frayed nerves.

He crossed the room toward me with measured, unhurried strides. As the distance between us shrank, the crisp scent of cold cedar rolling off his skin wrapped around me like a tightening net.

Every instinct told me to take a step back, but I forced my heels to remain glued to the floor, meeting his gaze head-on.

He came to a stop barely an inch in front of me, extending one of the glasses. His deep, gravelly voice rumbled in the quiet air.

"Drink. You're shaking."

I stared at the glass for half a second before reaching out to take it. My fingertips inevitably brushed against his rough, calloused knuckles.

Zap.

A sharp, electric jolt sparked at the point of contact, racing straight up my arm and straight into my chest. I flinched, pulling my fingers back instantly and clutching the base of the glass to hide the sudden tremor in my hands.

To mask my sudden panic at that bizarre, intense spark, I tilted my head back and swallowed the burning liquid in one single gulp.

The high-proof bourbon scorched down my throat, leaving a trail of fiery heat laced with an unnervingly sweet, floral undertone.

For werewolves, The Heat was a primal biological wave triggered by meeting a fated mate or catalyzed by ancient herbs. It stripped away all rational thought until raw instinct took over.

The second the empty glass left my lips, a sudden, violent blaze ignited in the pit of my stomach. The heat surged through my bloodstream at a terrifying speed, melting my defenses and turning my knees to water.

I staggered forward, the crystal glass slipping from my numb fingers and thudding heavily against the thick carpet.

Brock moved with terrifying speed. His powerful arm hooked around my waist, hauling me flush against his rock-hard, burning chest before I could hit the ground.

His overwhelming cedar scent crashed through my sensory defenses. My blood roared in my ears, and every cell in my body began to scream with a desperate, unhinged craving for his touch.

Inside me, the dormant white wolf in my bloodline let out a deafening roar-Mate!-demanding absolute possession of the Alpha holding me.

I gasped for air, my hands rising on their own accord to grip the broad expanse of his shoulders. My fingernails dug through his silk shirt into his tense muscles.

Brock froze, his entire frame turning rigid as iron under my touch. His breathing turned ragged and heavy, the ink-blue depths of his eyes bleeding into a dangerous, dark crimson.

"Falon..." he growled through clenched teeth, his voice scraping low and hoarse. "Do you have any idea what you're doing right now?"

Brock Hamilton POV:

I locked my arms around the soft, burning body in my embrace, my throat working as I fought with every ounce of my Alpha willpower not to take her right there on the rug.

My idiot Gamma, Chad, had slipped an ancient herb that induced The Heat into that decanter. I had intended to take things slow.

I wanted to give her time to heal from Casimer's betrayal, refusing to take advantage of her when she thought this was just a cold business transaction.

She had no idea. She thought she was just a convenient shield against my Elders. She didn't know that since the day she saved me in the Red River Woods over a decade ago, I had been waiting in the shadows.

But the moment her scent-a rare, intoxicating white lily that belonged only to me-bloomed unchecked across the room, my celebrated Alpha restraint shattered into dust.

My inner wolf slammed relentlessly against the bars of my mind, roaring to mark the woman I had secretly desired for ten long years. Mine. My Fated Mate.

I bent down and scooped her up into my arms, taking long, ruthless strides across the penthouse hallway before kicking the master bedroom door wide open.

I laid her gently down on the vast velvet mattress. Like a lost cub seeking warmth, she tangled her limbs around me, pressing her feverish lips against the side of my neck, letting out a soft, needy whimper that completely destroyed me.

The last thread of my sanity snapped.

You signed the contract, Falon, my inner wolf purred darkly as I leaned down and crushed my mouth against the soft lips that had spoken only formal words to me all evening. There is no going back now.

Falon Haynes POV:

Morning sunlight cut through the narrow slits of the window blinds, stinging my eyes.

I tried to push myself up, only for a wave of crushing soreness to wash through my bones. It felt like a semi-truck had flattened every joint in my body.

I sucked in a sharp breath. The wild, chaotic memories of the previous night-heavy with the scent of cedar, sweat, and breathless gasps-flooded my mind all at once.

The vast king-sized bed was empty beside me. The second pillow was cold to the touch; Brock had clearly been gone for hours.

I rubbed my aching lower back and swung my legs over the edge of the mattress. The moment my bare toes touched the cold hardwood floor, my knees almost buckled. I had to grip the nightstand just to keep from collapsing.

A heavy, black-and-gold card sat on the wooden surface. Brock's sharp, powerful handwriting stood out against the dark cardstock:

Emergency board meeting. Breakfast is in the warmer. The garage keypad code is your birthday. -Brock.

I stared at the words your birthday for several long seconds, an unsettling ripple spreading through my chest. Why would a man who only married me for convenience use my birthday as his private security code?

Shaking off the thought, I pushed myself up and limped toward the bathroom.

I slid open the frosted glass door and stepped in front of the vanity mirror. The moment my eyes landed on my reflection, my breath hitched in my throat.

Across my pale neck and collarbones, dark crimson bruises were scattered in reckless abandon. Right over my jugular vein sat a concentrated, intensely heavy mark carrying the raw scent of an Alpha's claim.

While he hadn't broken the skin to complete the permanent bite, that dominant cedar aroma was more than enough to announce to every werewolf in the city that I had been thoroughly and utterly claimed.

I turned on the faucet, splashing cold water over my throat to scrub away the phantom heat, but the scent clung to my skin like it was woven into my very soul.

Giving up, I returned to the walk-in closet and dug out a thick, cream-colored turtleneck sweater, pulling the high collar up until it completely hid the bruised skin.

Once dressed, I grabbed the car keys off the foyer console and took the private elevator straight down to the underground parking level.

The garage was lined with rows of luxury sports cars. I hit the unlock button, and in the far corner, a massive, matte-black armored SUV flashed its amber lights.

Brock's daily ride-a literal steel beast designed to withstand a war zone. I climbed into the high driver's seat, feeling a strange sense of safety wrapped inside his vehicle, and steered it into the morning rush of Manhattan traffic.

Half an hour later, I pulled the armored SUV up to the curb outside the Riverdale University Architecture Department. I spotted Halie waiting on the stone steps and pushed the door open.

Halie immediately bounded down the stairs like a hyperactive pup, throwing her arms around me in a crushing embrace.

"Falon! You're finally here! My structural mechanics paper is literally about to end my life!"

"Okay, okay, let me breathe first," I laughed, patting her back before trying to steer her toward the library.

We hadn't taken three steps when Halie suddenly froze. Her nose twitched. She leaned in toward my neck, sniffing the air like a trained bloodhound.

My heart skipped a beat. I instinctively yanked my turtleneck higher, stepping back.

Halie's emerald-green eyes went wide as saucers. She pointed a trembling finger straight at me. "Whoa. Falon... why do you reek of the old man? And why is it so damn strong?!"

"He's thirty-two, Halie, not an old man," I muttered, looking away to dodge her gaze. My face was burning. "I probably just brushed against his coat."

Halie crossed her arms, a wicked, knowing grin spreading across her face. Without warning, her hand darted out, hooking her finger over the collar of my sweater and pulling it down just an inch.

She gasped loudly.

"Brushed against his coat?!" Halie burst into laughter, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "That is pure, unadulterated Alpha territorial claiming, Falon! My eyes are burning just looking at it!"

Heat rushed all the way to the tips of my ears. I swatted her hand away and adjusted my collar. "Shut up. It was just the alcohol and the herbs in the drinks. It was an accident."

Halie leaned into my ear, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial, teasing whisper. "An accident? The great Alpha Brock Hamilton doesn't do accidents. Does this mean I should start calling my best friend 'Luna Mommy' now?"

"Halie!" I clamped a hand over her mouth, looking around the campus frantically. "Don't you dare call me that out loud!"

Halie mumbled a laugh against my palm, ducking away and catching my arm. "Fine, fine! I'll stop teasing. But seriously, look at you! You're glowing!"

She linked her arm through mine, her smile softening into something genuine. "Anyway, help me fix these blueprint calculations really quick, and then I'm taking you to the edge of the territory. I have a massive surprise for you."

"A surprise? What kind of surprise?" I asked, grateful for the subject change.

Halie gave me a cryptic wink, her eyes glinting with excitement. "A wedding gift. And trust me, Falon... it's going to completely blow your mind."

I smiled, shaking my head as we walked into the library. But as we sat down to work, the strange hum of the mind-link at the base of my skull began to vibrate.

Someone was trying to bridge a mental connection with me-a connection only a true mate could initiate.

Falon Haynes POV:

The heavy cedar scent and the burning memories of last night still haunted my senses as we walked out of the university library.

Suddenly, a faint, high-frequency hum vibrated at the base of my skull. It wasn't a sound heard through my ears, but a deep, rich baritone echoing directly inside my mind.

Within a pack, the Mind-Link allowed wolves to communicate across distances.

But to bridge a connection this clear and intimate, it required a profound bond-usually one reserved only for true fated mates. I assumed it was simply his overwhelming Alpha bloodline forcing the connection.

"Falon. Are you alright?" Brock's voice came through. It carried a tightly wound edge, as if he were holding back a raging storm.

I jumped, whipping my head around in surprise, earning a puzzled glance from Halie. I shook my head quickly at her and focused my thoughts to push a response back along the mental link.

"I'm... I'm fine. I'm with Halie."

"I know," he replied, his tone vibrating through my chest. I could practically feel the subtle, steady rhythm of his breathing.

"About last night... I apologize. I lost control. The herbs in that drink clouded my judgment, but I should have protected you, not taken advantage of you."

The memory of his calloused hands gripping my waist and his searing kisses rushed back into my head, setting my cheeks on fire.

I bit my lower lip, desperately trying to rebuild the emotional walls Casimer's betrayal had forced me to create.

"Don't bring it up," I projected back firmly, trying to sound as detached as possible. "It was just a biological reaction. An accident. Let's just stick to the terms of the Mating Agreement."

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the link.

When Brock spoke again, his tone was laced with an unyielding Alpha authority that sent a shiver down my spine. "It wasn't an accident, Falon. You are my Luna. And I will treat you as such."

Before I could fire back a denial, a sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom glided to a halt at the bottom of the library steps.

The passenger door opened, and Martha Kowalski, the Hamilton family's senior housekeeper, stepped out in a crisp gray suit.

She held a black velvet box in both hands, her eyes scanning the crowd before locking onto me. She walked straight over, completely ignoring the staring students.

"Good day, Luna," Martha said, bowing her head with absolute deference. "The Alpha instructed me to deliver this to you personally."

She lifted the lid of the box.

Resting on the dark velvet was a jaw-dropping platinum band set with a massive, flawless pink diamond, flanked by rows of deep-blue sapphires.

Whispers broke out immediately among the passing students. A pink diamond of that caliber wasn't just jewelry; it was a symbol of absolute authority. It meant the entire Hamilton Pack was now at my feet.

I stared at the blinding ring and felt like I was looking at a piece of burning coal.

"No, this is far too much," I said, taking a step back and shaking my head. "Please take it back, Martha."

Martha kept the box extended, her expression polite but completely immovable. "Luna, the Alpha made it clear that I am not permitted to return to the estate with this ring."

Brock's low voice echoed in my head once more, possessive and dark. "Take it, Falon. Wear it. Let everyone know who you belong to."

I drew in a steady breath. Only yesterday, Casimer had treated me like a useless pet he could discard for a better political alliance. I refused to be a caged bird again, even a gilded one under Brock's protection. I didn't want his compensation or his pity.

"Tell the Alpha I appreciate the thought, but I don't need it," I said, my voice leaving no room for argument. I gently but firmly pushed the velvet box back toward Martha.

Martha let out a quiet sigh. She snapped the box shut, bowed once more, and retreated to the vehicle.

Halie watched the Rolls-Royce pull away, her jaw practically on the floor. "Are you insane?! You just rejected a custom pink diamond from the Alpha? That thing costs more than an entire city block! He is trying to claim you, Falon!"

"I don't want to owe him anything more than I already do," I murmured, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the armored SUV. "Our marriage is just a contract. I need to remember that, even if he doesn't."

"You are so stubborn," Halie groaned, shaking her head as she climbed into the passenger seat. "Fine. But you are definitely accepting my gift. Drive north. Aim for Maple Lake."

At the mention of Maple Lake, my chest tightened. That was the land my parents had dreamed of developing before their tragic deaths. Why would Halie want to go there?

I hit the ignition, the powerful engine letting out a low, guttural purr before I steered it onto the main avenue.

But just as we reached the intersection to leave the campus, a silver-gray sports car suddenly lunged out from a side lane, tires screeching against the asphalt. It slammed on the brakes, blocking our path entirely.

The driver's door swung open, and Casimer Conner stepped out. His golden-brown hair was perfectly styled, but his amber eyes burned with an arrogant, furious fire as he marched straight toward my vehicle.