The Alpha's Forbidden Sister

Tessa grabbed my arm the second we rounded the corner toward the campus courtyard.

"Stop," she ordered, leaning close. Her eyes narrowed as she pulled my wrist toward her face, inhaling deeply. "Explain that."

I tried to tug my arm back, heat rising quickly up my neck. "Explain what? Tessa, class starts in ten minutes."

"Don't play dumb with me, Elara. That’s pure Alpha cedar and crushed pine. You smell like Rowan." She pinned me with a sharp look. "What happened last night?"

"Nothing," I stammered, looking anywhere but at her. "We talked. That’s all."

"You talked, and his scent is practically branded into your body?" Tessa raised an eyebrow. "You’re lying. Your heart is hammering right now."

Before I could invent a better excuse, a sudden commotion across the stone courtyard cut me off.

A crowd had formed near the fountain, students circling around a massive display of crimson roses. Silas Voss stood in the center, wearing a tailored black jacket and a smug grin. When he saw me, his smile widened, and he gestured toward the velvet box resting on a pedestal beside him.

"Elara!" Silas’s voice echoed across the quad, loud enough to draw every eye in the vicinity. "I told you I wasn't going to give up easily."

Whispers rippled through the gathered pack members. Silas walked forward, holding a silver pendant carved with the Voss family crest.

"I figured I'd make my intentions unmistakable," Silas said, stopping three paces from me. "Be my date to the Solstice Gala. Accept my courtship."

Tessa groaned under her breath. "He is unbelievable."

I opened my mouth to shut him down, but the heavy press of an Alpha aura swept across the open courtyard before I could speak. The temperature seemed to drop instantly.

Rowan stepped out from the library colonnade.

His eyes locked onto Silas with lethal focus. Within seconds he had crossed the distance and positioned himself squarely between Silas and me, cutting off Silas’s line of sight.

"She isn't going anywhere with you," Rowan said. His voice was quiet, but it carried the absolute weight of command. "Take your flowers and get out of here, Voss."

Silas didn't back down. His grin turned razor-sharp as he looked past Rowan's shoulder at me.

"I'm not asking you, Rowan," Silas said smoothly. "Elara has a voice. Why don't you let her speak for herself?"

"I speak for this family," Rowan replied, his jaw set like iron. "And she doesn't want you near her."

Silas let out a mocking laugh that carried across the hushed crowd. "Family? You're just her brother, Rowan. You don't own her. You can't decide who she chooses."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Several students took a cautious step back. Rowan's hands clenched at his sides, the muscles in his back bunching beneath his dark jacket. He looked furious.

"I’m protecting my sister," Rowan spat, the words sounding forced, dragged through grit. "Which is my duty. Move along before I make you."

Watching Rowan stand there, rigid and territorial, sent an unexpected jolt through my chest. He was furious, out of pure, unadulterated jealousy. He couldn't hide it, no matter how hard he clung to the family excuse.

A part of me felt a sick rush of satisfaction seeing him this close to losing control.

"Silas," I said, stepping out from behind Rowan's shadow.

Rowan turned his head slightly, his gaze dark and warning.

"Thank you for the gesture," I told Silas, keeping my voice firm and clear for the crowd to hear. "But the answer is no. I’m not going to the gala with you, and I’m not accepting your courtship. Please take your things."

Silas’s smile finally vanished. He glanced between Rowan and me, irritation twitching at his jaw, before he snatched the pendant box and turned on his heel.

The crowd began to disperse, murmuring in disappointment that a fight hadn't broken out.

I turned toward Rowan, expecting him to say something. But he wasn't looking at me with relief. His expression had shuttered completely, cold and distant.

"You took too long to answer him," Rowan said flatly.

"What?" I frowned. "I turned him down."

"You hesitated." His tone was harsh, defensive. "If you're that tempted by a Voss, do it somewhere off-campus where it doesn't reflect on the pack."

"Rowan, that's completely unfair—"

"I don't care," he cut in, refusing to meet my eyes. "Just don't make a fool of yourself."

Without another word, he turned and walked away, his long strides carrying him toward the administrative building.

***

By midnight, the family estate was completely silent.

I couldn't sleep. Rowan’s cold dismissal in the courtyard kept replaying in my head, mixing with the restless pulse in my veins. The monthly moon bond was nearing its peak, and every nerve ending felt raw and overly sensitive.

Needing a glass of water, I slipped into the dim hallway.

A thin strip of golden light spilled from beneath the door of Rowan's private study. As I drew closer, a low, ragged sound caught my attention.

I froze.

Through the crack of the unlatched door, I heard heavy, ragged breathing, followed by a fractured whisper.

"Elara..."

My heart stopped.

I leaned in slightly, looking through the narrow gap.

Rowan was sitting back against the edge of his heavy mahogany desk. His shirt was unbuttoned and open, his chest slick with sweat. In one trembling hand, he held a crumpled photograph of me from last summer, along with a stack of old notes I had left on his desk over the years.

His other hand was wrapped tightly around his thick, weeping cock, stroking in rough, violent pumps.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head falling back against the desk lamp's warm glow. His hips jerked upward into his fist, desperate and completely out of control. "Elara... damn it, Elara..."

He wasn't the composed future Alpha who commanded respect from everyone. He looked wrecked, completely consumed as his knuckles whitened against his shaft, pumping himself with a frantic, punishing rhythm that showed just how deeply he was unraveling.

Seeing him like that shattered every doubt I had carried.

He didn't see me as a sister. He never had. He wanted me with an intensity that terrified him, an obsession he tried so hard to choke down behind cold glares and sharp orders.

My breath grew shallow, heat flooding straight between my thighs.

Every instinct screamed at me to push the door open, to walk inside and let him take what he was clearly dying for. But the reality of our lives crashed down just as fast. My adoptive parents had taken me in when I had nothing. They loved us both. If we crossed this line, we would tear this entire house apart.

I pulled back from the door, my steps silent on the carpet as I retreated down the corridor and slipped back into my bedroom.

Closing the door behind me, I collapsed against the wood, trembling from head to toe. The moon bond flared violently inside my chest, echoing Rowan's raw heat like a fever. I could still hear his rough groans, could still picture his thick cock sliding through his fist as he called my name.

My hand slid down my stomach, pushing past the waistband of my shorts.

"Rowan," I whimpered into the dark.

I slipped two fingers between my folds, slick and soaking wet, rubbing hard against my clit. I arched my back against the locked door, moving my fingers in fast, desperate circles, matching the frantic rhythm I had just witnessed. In my mind, it wasn't my fingers touching me—it was his rough, possessive hands, pinning me against that desk, claiming every inch he had forbidden himself from touching.

The orgasm ripped through me within minutes, intense enough to leave me gasping for air against the cold wood floor.

I lay there in the quiet room, trying to steady my breathing, when the floorboards in the hallway gave a faint creak.

I held my breath.

A shadow fell across the crack beneath my bedroom door, blocking the dim hall light.

Someone was standing right outside.

Rowan was there. I could sense his heavy presence, lingering just inches away through the thin wood. He stood in absolute silence, waiting, hesitating in the dark.

He didn't knock.