
Mated To My Ex's Father ( Alpha Damon)
It all started with one encounter.
One night with a man whose touch felt like sin and whose scent still haunts my skin.
I never meant to fall - but when I caught my boyfriend, the Alpha's son, cheating on me, something inside me broke.
And that's when he found me - a stranger cloaked in dominance and danger. His hands promised ruin, his lips whispered damnation.
I gave in. Just once.
Or so I thought.
Now, I've been hired as the Alpha's new secretary.
And when I walked into his office, the world stopped.
Because he's not a stranger.
He's him.
The man from that night.
The man I should have never touched.
The father of my ex.
I tell myself I can resist him - that I can keep my secret buried. But every time his gaze lingers, every time that deep, commanding voice wraps around my name, my resolve burns away.
This isn't love.
It's an obsession. Possession. Darkness disguised as desire.
And I know one thing for sure - once an Alpha sets his eyes on you...
He never lets go.
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Chapter 3
I ran through the rain, desperate to wash everything off the pain, the humiliation, the betrayal that clung to my skin like poison. My tears mixed with the downpour as I screamed into the empty night.
"You jerk! You fool! I hate you!" The storm swallowed my voice, but I didn't stop. My breath came out in ragged gasps as the rain drenched me to the bone. My clothes were heavy, plastered to my skin, but I kept running as if I could outrun the ache tearing through my chest.
My legs trembled, my lungs burned, and finally, they gave out beneath me. I collapsed onto the cold pavement, the world spinning as sobs tore from my throat, raw and broken.
I didn't know how long I stayed there, only that the rain never stopped, and neither did the tears. It felt like the sky itself was crying with me. When I finally lifted my head, my vision was blurry, but through the curtain of rain, I saw a Club ahead.
Warm light glowed through the windows, spilling over the wet streets like a fragile promise.
The music inside throbbed faintly laughter, chatter, life. I stumbled toward it, too numb to think, too shattered to care. Maybe a drink could make me forget even just for a little while.
Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of alcohol and sweat, the hum of conversation wrapping around me like a fog.
I dropped onto a stool, my fingers trembling as I ordered a drink. When the glass hit the counter, I snatched it up and downed it in one go.
It was bitter. Sharp. My throat burned but not nearly as much as my heart did.
Because beneath the haze of liquor and pain, one thought kept echoing in my head.
"He cheated on me."
The words hurt every time they replayed. The image wouldn't leave his body pressed against another female werewolf, her laughter mingling with his.
I remembered the sound, the sight, the cruelty in his voice when he met my eyes and said,
"Watch and learn how a real woman behaves in bed."
And then their laughter. That sound would haunt me forever. Cruel. Mocking. It broke something deep inside me.
Maybe it was my fault. Maybe if I had been softer, prettier, more alluring, maybe if I had known how to please him he wouldn't have looked for someone else. Maybe I was never enough. The thought tore through me like glass.
The bartender's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. He leaned in, brows knitted with concern, asking what was wrong. I snapped, my voice trembling with anger and despair. "Just get me another drink and mind your business!"
He hesitated, but I didn't care. I needed the burn. I needed the numbness. So I kept drinking, each gulp a desperate attempt to drown the ache that wouldn't die.
My eyes drifted through the haze, over faces that blurred together - until they stopped.
That face.
Those green eyes.
Broad shoulders looked very familiar.
Before I knew it, I was on the dance floor lost, reckless, spinning under flashing lights. I shouted until my voice broke, laughed when I wanted to cry, and moved until the pain almost felt distant. The music swallowed me whole, every beat thudding against my chest like a heartbeat that wasn't mine.I danced for heaven knows how long.
Suddenly, the urge hit me. I was pressed.
Staggering, I rushed toward the restroom, my vision already turning blurry. The moment I stepped into the restroom, I gripped the sink for balance. My reflection stared back at me, flushed and trembling. Something was wrong. My skin burned as if a fire had been lit beneath it.
I wasn't supposed to feel like this. Not now. Not here. My breath came out uneven, my pulse racing so fast it made my head spin. Every nerve in my body felt alive, too alive, as though something inside me was awakening something I couldn't control.
"I'm a beta werewolf." I whispered to myself, trying to calm my racing thoughts. "I can control this. I can."
But the heat only grew stronger, crawling up my neck, spreading through my veins. My body disobeyed me. My hands shook as I pressed them against the cool marble sink, but even that couldn't soothe the fever rushing beneath my skin.
"What's happening to me?" I gasped softly.
The air felt heavy, thick with an unfamiliar scent musky, wild, and dangerous. My heart pounded harder. My mind screamed to leave, but my body was betraying me, craving something I didn't understand.
I closed my eyes, breathing hard, trying to fight the storm inside me.
I was feeling hot. I wasn't supposed to be feeling like this, I thought. My hormones weren't supposed to be acting up like this. I wasn't an omega . I was a beta female. At least I could control myself, but I couldn't as my body kept getting hotter and hotter. I groaned, pressing my legs together as I felt myself getting wet down there.
I kept rubbing my legs together," I moaned .
"Shit ,what was I doing,I felt like pleasuring myself. I could feel my nipples hardening,my hands reached up ,I hesitated but finally I brought it to my chest squeezing my tits.
"Aahhh ."I moaned again.
Then, I froze,I felt those deep green eyes watching me, that same person I saw earlier.My vision was getting blurry and my body was getting hotter. Maybe if this man could make me feel better, I wouldn't even remember what that bastard ex boyfriend of mine did .
I stepped closer to him,that face was familiar but I wasn't in the mood to find out. As I approached him,his scent was intoxicating.
You think I'm a little slut right " my voice came out sultry.
He didn't say anything just watched me, I took the initiative,I wrapped my arms around his neck,I had to stand on my feet to do that. He was freaking tall and huge.
Make me yours Daddy,make me your slut" I pressed a kiss to his chest, tracing my tongue around his nipples.
Hmmm,he grabbed my ass, raising me up." Then make sure you don't regret it,cause I'll make sure you cry out Daddy" His husky voice said.
Just hearing that voice made me more wet.
" I won't", I said and that was the only thing I remembered before leaving the bar
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8.7
I arrived at the hotel with Julian's favorite takeout, ready to surprise my fiancé before our big merger. But the moment I swiped the keycard, the silence of the hallway felt heavy and wrong.
Inside, a red-soled stiletto lay on the marble floor-the same one I'd watched my best friend Lila try on at Saks last week. Through the cracked bedroom door, I watched Julian's back arch as Lila looked me straight in the eye and smiled, wrapping her legs tighter around him to mock my heartbreak.
I fled to the penthouse to hide, only to find Grafton, Julian's "crippled" brother, waiting in the dark. To my horror, the man who was supposed to be paralyzed stood up from his wheelchair, gripped my chin with cold fingers, and forced me to sign a contract that gave him control of my family's shares. He knew about my mother's secret medical bills and used them to buy my silence, effectively turning my life into a calculated game of corporate chess.
The betrayal tasted like acid, and the injustice of it all burned in my throat. My fiancé was a liar, my best friend was a thief, and the man now controlling my fate was a predator who had been faking his disability for years.
I couldn't understand how everyone I trusted had turned out to be a monster. I was trapped between a man who cheated on me and a man who wanted to own me, with no way out and no one to turn to.
But when Julian came looking for me, Grafton didn't hide; he stood tall, looming over me with a possessive glint in his eyes. "Help me destroy Julian," I rasped, realizing that to survive the Faulkner men, I had to become the most dangerous player of them all.

7.7
"Tristan! Help!" I called out his name again. It was not a scream but a command.
He didn't even flinch. "You know the rules, Juniper," he said, his voice fearfully calm. "I don't touch you. Don't use a fall to trick me into breaking those rules."
....
But this mess is over.
I'm done playing love with him. I'm returning to the Vangough seat. And as for the man who was allergic to my touch, he's just about to find out how much it hurts when I finally let go-and take my empire with me.
Tristan wants a divorce. But I'll give him a battle he will never be able to endure.

9.7
Some chains are forged in iron.
Others in desire.
Sebastian Kol has existed for six centuries. Cursed to burn alive in his own skin every night he transforms into a beast even he cannot control. He wants one thing. Freedom. And after five centuries of searching, a prophecy finally gives it a name.
Leilani Ravenwood.
She carries the mark of the moon goddess on her skin and a prophecy that brands her as his salvation. Her blood silences his beast, and her touch sets him on fire.
In the worst possible way. And in the best possible way.
Furious at the hold she has over him, Sebastian takes her, strips her of everything, and bends her world until it breaks, determined to own what the goddess dared to use against him. What follows is dark and consuming. A monster who has never met his match, and a woman who proves to be it.
But Leilani Ravenwood does not break easily. And somewhere between the hatred and the hunger, the punishment and the pull, the ancient beast begins to suspect the terrible truth.
The woman born to be his salvation may already be his undoing, his poison and cure wearing the same skin.
And he is running out of reasons to care.

7.5
She was dead. Or at least, that's what they thought. Now, five years later, Ivy Richardson stood at her own grave, ready to face the man who put her there.
Ivy, in a custom coat, stood at her cold, black marble gravestone. "Beloved daughter and fiancée," the inscription read—a cruel joke mirroring her heart's wasteland.
A gravedigger dropped his shovel, face ashen. Trembling, he pointed, gasping, "Oh my God... you look exactly like her." He saw a ghost; Ivy was alive.
She paid for silence. Then, Clayton, her former fiancé, appeared, shaking: "Ivy? Where have you been?" She crushed his cheap lilies, her lethal gaze replacing the girl he'd abandoned.
He snarled, blaming her, justifying her "Do Not Resuscitate" order for his mistress, Ainsley. Ivy's cold laugh mocked his pathetic lies.
"Fiancé?" she echoed, revealing her new wedding ring. "That title expired when you signed the DNR... and Ainsley was watching, wasn't she?" With an icy "Go to hell," Ivy left him slipping in the mud.

7.6
I woke up to the suffocating smell of copper and sulfur, my fingers wrapped around a blood-soaked leather whip.
Hanging from an obsidian cross in front of me was a boy with silver hair and dead, golden eyes.
His pale chest was torn open to the bone.
I recognized those eyes immediately. I had spent three years describing them on my laptop.
He was Kamari Monroe, the tragic, overpowered protagonist of my own web novel.
And I wasn't just a bystander. I was Benedict Guerrero, the sadistic academy headmaster. The ultimate villain.
A reel of images flashed in my mind: my original ending. Kamari, fully awakened, skinning me alive and burning my soul in a furnace for forty-nine days.
My loyal attack dog, Gideon, stepped forward with a basin of glowing green liquid.
"Headmaster, let me wake him up with this bone-rot acid so you can resume."
If that acid hit Kamari, his hatred would become permanent. My gruesome death would be sealed.
But if I broke character and apologized, the magical world would sense the shift, and Kamari would just think it was a sicker, more twisted trap.
How was I supposed to survive a death sentence I wrote myself?
I couldn't show weakness. I had to play the monster to survive.
Suppressing my terror, I smashed the acid basin, healed his ruined flesh with agonizing dark magic, and lied straight to his face.
"Someone had to be the monster to push you into the fire."
This time, I will rewrite my own fate.

8.2
What if a succubus was sent to love the most broken, obsessive men across parallel worlds?
Isabelle Henderson is a high-level succubus who feeds on pure, intense human emotions-especially love. When she's recruited by a mysterious system to replace heroines who've abandoned their stories, she finds herself thrust into one dark romance after another.
Her mission? Make the yandere (lovestruck, obsessive) male leads fall for her. Completely. Irrevocably. Forever.
But these aren't ordinary men:
A genius investor who hasn't slept in five years, tormented by hyperthymesia and trauma
A violent mob boss with skin hunger who hates being touched-until her
A wheelchair-bound heir with suicidal thoughts and a dark secret
A high school god with split personalities who both want her
A disfigured medical genius with severe mysophobia (fear of germs) who can't stand anyone-except her
The twist? Unlike the original heroines, Isabelle isn't here to fix them. She's here to want them. Every twisted, possessive, obsessive part.
Because the purer the obsession, the sweeter the feast.
"They call it sickness. I call it dinner."