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.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 6
Kiera's POV
I woke up with a start.
My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I blinked rapidly, trying to remember where I was. The ceiling above me wasn't mine. The sheets beneath me weren't mine either. Everything smelled faintly of cedarwood, dominance, and something masculine that made my entire body tense.
Then it hit me.
My Boss.
My breath caught in my throat.
Holy shit.
It was supposed to be my first day at work.
Heat crept up my neck as flashes of last night's chaos blurred behind my eyes, his voice, his scent, the way my body had betrayed me. I clutched the sheets tighter against my chest, my cheeks burning in shame.
I looked down and froze.
I was wearing his shirt.
His scent clung to me strong, intoxicating, impossible to ignore. I pressed a trembling hand against my mouth, hoping it would somehow muffle the rush of thoughts screaming inside my head.
He had told me to rest. Said I looked tired.
That was the last thing I remembered before my body gave in completely to exhaustion.
I swallowed hard, my mind was foggy, heavy with confusion and something deeper I couldn't name.
The door opened softly.
He stood there tall, broad-shouldered, his presence commanding without a single word. His eyes lingered on me, quiet but sharp, reading every flicker of panic on my face. I bowed my head instantly, unable to meet his gaze.
"I... I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
He said nothing. He simply studied me for a moment then exhaled and turned away, his deep voice low and steady.
"Rest," he said. "You're tired."
And just like that, he walked out of the room.
The silence that followed felt unbearable. I sat there for what felt like minutes, maybe hours, clutching the sheets to my chest as my thoughts spiraled.
What had I done?
I tried to stand, but the moment my feet hit the floor, a sharp ache shot through my legs. My knees wobbled. I winced, sinking back down on the edge of the bed. My body felt sore, every nerve too aware of the memory I was trying desperately to erase.
Humiliation burned through me.
The first day at work and I had already... ended up on Alpha's bed.
Not just my boss.
The Alpha of our pack.
I wanted to vanish.
There was no way I could stay lying there. I couldn't face myself if I did.
I forced myself up, ignoring the dull pain, and reached for the dress he had brought for me. It was neatly folded on the chair, simple, elegant, perfectly my size. My hands trembled as I slipped it on, buttoning it up with shaking fingers.
When I stepped out of the room, he was there waiting.
His gaze lifted immediately, calm but unreadable. I froze, feeling like a criminal caught in the act of something unforgivable.
"I- I'm sorry for... what happened," I stammered, voice cracking.
He didn't reply. Not even a nod. He just looked at me. His silence was heavy, not angry, not cold, just... intense. It made my chest tighten in ways I couldn't understand.
Unable to bear it any longer, I bowed quickly.
"I'll... I'll get back to work now."
And before he could say a word, I turned and hurried out of his office, my pulse racing wildly.
The corridor outside felt too bright, too quiet. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to calm my breathing. The world was spinning. I felt like everyone could see it and smell it. The scent of him still clung to me like a secret I couldn't wash off.
I checked my watch. It was already afternoon.
I'd lost half a day.
Panic kicked in. I darted toward the smaller office James had shown me earlier that morning
my office. The one place I could breathe.
The room was quiet when I entered, sunlight spilling over the desk. I set down my bag, grabbed the stack of papers waiting for me, and forced myself to focus.
Work. I just needed to work.
But my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Every time I looked down at the documents, his face flashed in my mind. His eyes. His voice. The weight of his presence. The way my body had reacted when he stood too close when his scent filled the air.
It was madness.
He was my boss.
The Alpha.
And I was supposed to be his secretary. Nothing more.
I tried to tell myself that. Over and over again.
But no matter how hard I tried, the memory wouldn't leave. The way his gaze had softened for a second the warmth beneath his control the way I felt seen, desired, claimed.
It wasn't right. It wasn't normal.
Yet my heart wouldn't listen.
Even as I sorted the papers, even as I checked schedules and replied to emails, my pulse refused to slow down. It felt like something invisible was tying us together, something stronger than logic or reason.
Fate?
No. That was impossible.
Still... I couldn't stop thinking about it.
His touch. His voice. The way the world had faded around us for that brief, dangerous moment.
It felt like we were meant for each other like something ancient and untamed had bound us long before we ever met.
I shook my head, forcing the thought away.
No. I couldn't let myself believe that.
He was The Alpha. My boss. And I was just his secretary.
I had to know my place, even if my heart refused to obey.
I took a deep breath and kept working, trying to bury myself in the rhythm of the day. But deep down, I already knew no amount of work would make me forget the way he looked at me. The way he made me feel.
Something had started between us that night.
Something neither of us could stop.
And no matter how hard I tried to fight it...
a part of me already knew I didn't want to.
Keep Reading
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to
Unlock All Chapters
You may also like
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."