My Step-Brothers' Forbidden Addiction
My fated mate rejected me in front of the entire pack and they cheered while he did it.
Moving to Nightshade Pack was supposed to be my escape. Instead, I got two step-brothers who looked at me like I was something they wanted to destroy.
Dante Blackwell: brutal, possessive, with eyes that burned through me every time we were in the same room.
Mateo Blackwell: all charm and cruelty, with a smile that shouldn't make my heart race but does.
They made my life hell. Every day was a new way to remind me I didn't belong.
But one incident changed it all.
What happens when the step-brothers you're supposed to hate become the ones you can't stop craving? When the mate who destroyed you comes crawling back? When the broken girl they underestimated discovers she's something they should fear?
Sometimes the prey becomes the predator.
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Chapter 4
Delilah's POV
The pounding on the door got louder and more aggressive.
"Open this door or we break it down!"
Mom shoved me into my room and started throwing clothes into a bag. Her hands shook but she moved fast, grabbing anything within reach including my favorite books, the quilt my grandmother made, and photos of Dad.
"Change out of that dress," she ordered. "Put on jeans and a sweater, something you can travel in."
I stood there frozen, still unable to process what was happening. The rejection, Sarah, Jaxon's hands on her, the bond ripping apart, and now warriors at our door ready to drag us out and whip us for daring to exist.
"Delilah!" Mom grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard. "I know you're hurting and I know this is terrible, but if we don't leave right now, they will hurt us worse. Do you understand me?"
I nodded numbly and started pulling off the filthy white dress. My hands fumbled with the buttons and everything felt distant and unreal, like I was watching myself from far away.
A loud crash came from the front of the cottage as the warriors broke through the door.
"We're out of time." Mom threw the last items into two bags and grabbed my arm. She pulled me toward the window. "We're going out the back and the car is just through the trees."
"Search every room!" A male voice boomed from inside the cottage as heavy footsteps thundered through our small home.
Mom opened my bedroom window and climbed out first, then turned and reached back for me. I grabbed her hand and let her pull me through just as my bedroom door burst open.
"They're escaping! Back window!"
We ran with Mom still carrying the bags slung over her shoulder while I could barely keep up with my cracked ribs and injured hand. Branches tore at my clothes and face as we crashed through the forest. Behind us, I heard the warriors climbing through the window and crashing after us.
"There! Don't let them reach the car!"
Mom's old car sat where she'd parked it that morning, a lifetime ago when she was planning my birthday surprise. She threw the bags in the back and jumped in the driver's seat while I barely got my door closed before she started the engine and slammed her foot on the gas.
The car lurched forward just as a warrior reached us. His hand slammed against my window but we were already moving and his shout faded as we sped away down the dirt road.
Mom's hands gripped the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned white. She kept checking the rearview mirror like she expected them to chase us down any second.
"Are they following?" My voice came out hoarse and broken.
"I don't think so." Mom's voice shook. "Alpha Sterling just wants us gone and as long as we leave Riverbend territory, he won't waste resources hunting us down."
We drove in silence through the dark forest roads. Every bump and turn sent pain shooting through my ribs but I stared out the window at the trees rushing past and felt nothing. The numbness was spreading through my entire body like ice water in my veins.
The birthday cake was still sitting on our kitchen table. The white dress was probably lying on my bedroom floor where I'd dropped it. We'd left everything behind including our furniture, our dishes, and the life we'd built in that small cottage on the edge of pack lands.
And for what? Because my mother dared to love again and because I dared to believe I could be wanted by someone who actually saw me as worthy.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Mom's voice broke through the silence as tears streamed down her face. "I'm so sorry this happened to you because you deserved so much better than that cruel boy and his vicious father."
I didn't respond because what was there to say? Sorry didn't fix the gaping hole in my chest where the bond used to be. Sorry didn't erase the image of Jaxon kissing Sarah or take back three years of believing his lies.
"Ryker will keep us safe," Mom continued, trying to convince herself as much as me. "Nightshade Pack is different and stronger. We'll have a fresh start there where no one will know about the rejection and no one will judge us for the past."
I wanted to believe her but I'd believed Jaxon too, and look where that got me.
We crossed the Riverbend border just as the clock on the dashboard hit one in the morning. Mom's shoulders sagged with relief but she didn't slow down, just kept driving like Alpha Sterling's warriors might still appear behind us at any moment.
The drive to Nightshade territory took hours with dark forest roads stretching endlessly ahead. I leaned my head against the cold window and watched the darkness blur past while Storm remained completely silent in my head. The bond was still a raw wound and everything hurt with a deep ache that went beyond physical pain.
Somewhere around three in the morning, exhaustion finally pulled me under despite the pain. I fell asleep with my face pressed against the window and tears drying on my cheeks.
I woke to sunlight streaming through the windshield. We were parked in front of a massive packhouse made of dark stone that looked more like a fortress than a home, imposing and cold against the morning sky.
"We're here." Mom's voice was soft. "Nightshade Pack."
I sat up slowly and immediately regretted it as every muscle in my body ached. My ribs screamed, my hand throbbed, and my face felt swollen and tight from the bruises that makeup could no longer hide.
Through the windshield I could see wolves moving around the grounds. Some stopped to stare at our beat-up car with curious expressions while others looked hostile, like we were intruders invading their territory.
This was supposed to be our fresh start and our escape from judgment and cruelty. But looking at those cold stone walls and the suspicious faces of the Nightshade wolves, I wondered if we'd just traded one nightmare for another.
"It'll be better here," Mom said quietly as she squeezed my hand. "Ryker promised we'd be safe."
I didn't believe in promises anymore but I got out of the car anyway because there was nowhere else to go.
The packhouse doors opened and a man stepped out. He was large and powerfully built with silver-streaked dark hair and gray eyes that looked kind even from a distance. Ryker Blackwell, Mom's new mate and the reason we were here in unfamiliar territory.
He smiled warmly when he saw Mom and walked down the steps toward us with his arms open. But before he could reach us, two other men appeared in the doorway behind him.
Both were tall and dangerous-looking with the kind of presence that made you take a step back instinctively. One had black hair and storm gray eyes that swept over me with cold assessment. The other had dark brown hair with gold highlights and amber eyes that should have looked warm but were anything but welcoming.
They stared at me with expressions that made my stomach drop and my breath catch. Not curiosity, not welcome, not even the indifference of strangers meeting for the first time.
Pure hostility radiated from both of them like heat from a fire.
Ryker reached Mom and pulled her into his arms, clearly relieved to see her safe. But I couldn't look away from those two men standing in the doorway like guards protecting their territory from invaders they wanted gone.
"Delilah." Ryker turned to me with that same warm smile that seemed genuine and kind. "Welcome to Nightshade. These are my sons, Dante and Mateo."
The black-haired one, Dante, looked at me like I was an insect he wanted to crush under his boot. His storm gray eyes were ice cold as they traveled over my bruised face, my rumpled clothes, and my exhausted posture with clear disgust.
The other one, Mateo, smiled at me but it was sharp and cruel and didn't reach his amber eyes at all.
I had just escaped one hell where my mate called me worthless and let the pack throw garbage at me. Where the girl he was sleeping with beat me bloody in a bathroom and where I was nothing but entertainment and a joke to amuse them both.
The look in those brothers' eyes told me I was about to enter another hell, one that might be even worse than what I'd left behind.
And this time, there was nowhere left to run.
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8.1
"I don't share my women, Adele. Breeder or not. Go on your knees." He instructed, his hands going to unbuckle his trousers.
My heart burned with hatred as I clutched the knife behind me. "Of course, Alpha Loic. I was wondering... If you were to choose between a quick death and a slow one, which would you choose?"
I smiled brightly. He was taken aback for a moment. Then his face twisted in anger. "Have you forgotten your place so soon, Omega? Go down on your fucking knees."
"Omega? Aww. Adele would be so hurt. Tonight, I'll pronounce your death. The Alpha of the Vanguard pack, killed by fire. Touchè." I snapped my hands, and fire sprang up from all corners, encircling the room, with us in it.
"Y-you are not Adele. Who are you?" His eyes widened.
...
The Demon Queen, a name that struck terror in the minds of mortals and werewolves alike. Who'd have thought she'd meet her end during one of her adventures at a nightclub?
After being struck dead by the Alpha of her most hated race, Ophelie returns in the body of a wolf-less girl with only one mission in mind. To kill her murderer.
But sometimes, things never go as planned. When love is thrown in the mix, Ophelie finds herself and her previous plans swaying.
Refusing to kill Loic is to lose herself and her powers. What would she choose?
8.6
It was my birthday, but instead of celebrating, I was bleeding on the floor of my own bedroom. My sister Serena had just smashed a champagne bottle over my legs, her eyes filled with a dark madness because our father allowed me to wear the family diamonds.
To escape her, I bolted into a pitch-black guest suite, only to be grabbed by a man who felt like a wall of solid muscle. He was drugged, unstable, and pinned me against the wall, his teeth sinking into my neck in a primal claim that left a permanent mark.
I managed to flee, but the nightmare was just beginning. My father didn't care about my injuries; he only cared that I had "insulted" the man in that room—Delos French, the most powerful CEO in New York. He threatened to stop paying for my mother’s critical care facility unless I went to Delos and begged for his forgiveness.
My brother Julian was even worse, intentionally pouring scalding coffee over my bandaged wounds just to see me flinch. They forced me into a revealing gold dress, treating me like a high-priced commodity to be sold to the highest bidder to save their failing company.
I didn't understand how the people who were supposed to love me could be more predatory than the monster in the dark. I had spent my life fixing their scandals, yet they were ready to throw me to the wolves the moment I became useful as a pawn.
But when I stood before Delos French at his gala, he didn't see a trophy. He recognized my scent, my touch, and the fire in my eyes. He trapped me in his private lounge, kneeling to clean the blood from my injured feet.
"Marry me," he whispered, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "And I will give you the power to burn your family to the ground."
I looked into the eyes of the man who had hunted me and realized he was the only one offering me a weapon to destroy the people who had broken me.
"Okay," I whispered.
8.3
Imogen Montgomery was the perfect billionaire heiress, deeply in love and ready to marry her fiancé, Clark Ellis.
That all ended the night her cousin Kathleen ripped the sapphire pendant from her neck and pushed her into a pool of toxic chemicals to die.
Two years later, Imogen's eyes snapped open. But she didn't wake up in a hospital. She woke up tied to a stained mattress, trapped in the battered body of Briana, a teenage girl from the slums who had just been sold to a local trafficker.
After violently fighting her way out of a cheap motel, she discovered the horrifying truth. Kathleen had taken over the Montgomery Group. She had locked Imogen's grieving parents away in a psychiatric facility as prisoners.
And worst of all, Kathleen was now flaunting her stolen wealth online, preparing to marry Clark.
A wave of pure, white-hot rage boiled in her blood. Kathleen had murdered her, stolen her family, and was playing the perfect grieving cousin. How was she supposed to fight back? She was just a runaway nobody now. If she tried to expose the truth, Kathleen's security would shoot her dead in the street.
She needed a weapon. She needed a shield. She needed the one man Kathleen feared.
Covered in mud and blood, Briana intercepted Clark's car in the freezing rain. She was going to infiltrate his home as his vulgar, unhinged fake mistress, and she would drag Kathleen straight down to hell.
7.6
I was kidnapped alongside Cecilia Montoya, the new fiancée of the man who destroyed my life. Her fiancé, Damond Crane, was my ex-mate-the one who framed my father for treason just so he could marry her.
He arrived with a duffel bag full of cash, his face a mask of heroic worry for Cecilia. The Rogues took the money and shoved her into his arms.
But then their leader pointed at me, tied to a pipe in the corner. "What about the spare?" he sneered. "A little extra for the pretty Omega you left behind?"
Damond didn't even hesitate. He looked right at me, his eyes as cold and empty as a winter sky.
"She's nothing," he announced, his voice echoing in the silent warehouse. "A worthless Omega not worth a single coin. Do what you want with her."
He turned his back on me. He walked out the door with his new love, leaving me to be torn apart by monsters. In that moment, my soul didn't just break; it shattered into dust.
Just as the Rogues unbuckled their belts, a shadow dropped from the rafters. It was Waylen Montoya, Cecilia's brother, the most feared Alpha in the region. He landed between me and them, his power a crushing weight. He knelt before me, his voice a low, dangerous promise.
"Did you really think I'd let them have what's mine?"
9.2
Swapped at birth, Eileen was returned to her real family on her eighteenth birthday-only to be betrayed by them that very night.
To protect their precious fake sister, her three brothers forced Eileen and sent her to prison.
For four brutal years, she was beaten, humiliated, and abandoned, while not one relative came to see her.
When she finally walked free, her family and fiancé still treated her like a stain. So Eileen cut them off for good.
Then a limited-edition limo stopped at their door, and the man beside her made the whole family tremble.
It turned out Eileen had long since made a name for herself around the world.
"Mess with my woman, and I'll make you fucking regret it."
7.3
I was summoned home from boarding school for a funeral, thinking my family finally wanted me back. I stood in the pouring rain, watching a mahogany casket disappear into the mud, while the silence in my head felt like it was drowning me.
That night, I hid behind a tapestry and listened through a vent to my father’s study. He wasn't talking about grief. He was talking about "tissue compatibility" and "near-perfect matches" with the family lawyer.
They didn't want a daughter; they wanted a donor. My father’s voice was devoid of emotion as he discussed "the harvest." My half-sister was dying, and I was the spare part they had been growing for years. They had even removed the lock from my bedroom door so I could never truly shut them out.
The realization shattered me. I was just a biological backup plan, a life deemed less valuable than the one they preferred. How could a father look at his own child and see nothing but a heart to be cut out and transplanted?
I didn't wait for them to come for me. I stuffed a backpack, flushed my SIM card, and climbed out the window into a thunderstorm. I caught a bus to the middle of nowhere, ending up in a seat next to a massive, predatory man named Hoyt who looked like he’d killed people for less than a seat preference.
He pinned my wrist with a grip like iron and growled, "Who sent you?"
I couldn't speak to defend myself, but as we rolled into a dying town called Blackwood Creek, I knew one thing for certain. I would rather take my chances with a stranger with a gun than stay another night with the family that wanted me dead.