Marked Twice by the Alpha King

Ava's POV

The room froze when I saw him kiss her. One second I was hidden in the shadows, and the next my claws were digging into my palms, blood dripping onto the marble floor.

Control, Ava. You can't shift here.

I stood in the darkest corner of Moonlight Lodge's ballroom. My champagne tasted like cardboard. Shadow Creek pack was still a mess after our Alpha's death last month. Not the time or place for me to lose control.

Jackson and Sophia swayed on the dance floor. My ex-fated mate couldn't keep his hands off the Silverpeak princess. When she laughed at whatever he whispered, pain shot through my mark.

My neck burned where he'd marked me. Four months ago, he swore we were meant to be. Now he's chasing power instead of love. His plan was simple: marry the Alpha King's daughter, become Shadow Creek's next Alpha. Easy upgrade from dating a nobody like me.

My fangs were already pressing against my lower lip. No amount of breathing exercises would stop this shift if I stayed watching them another minute.

I set down my champagne and made a beeline for the bar. Maybe alcohol could drown the rage before I fully transformed in a room full of elites who'd eat me alive for the entertainment value.

"Double whiskey," I growled, not bothering to hide the gravel in my voice. The bartender's eyes widened at what must have been the yellow glow of my irises.

"Make that a Moonlight Martini for the lady," a deep voice cut in. "And the whiskey for me."

My wolf froze mid-snarl. Just... stopped. Like someone had hit pause on her fury.

I turned and looked up—way up—into eyes the color of a storm-tossed sea. They weren't just looking at me; they were seeing through me.

He wasn't pretty-boy handsome like Jackson. This man's face had character—laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, a slight crease between his brows from frowning too much. Dark hair with silver at the temples. His suit fit him like a second skin, but couldn't hide the raw power underneath.

But his scent—fuck. Rain-soaked pine trees, woodsmoke, and something wild that made my wolf sit up and beg. The complete opposite to Jackson's cologne-masked scent that never made my wolf react like this.

"I didn't ask for your input," I said, trying to sound tough while my wolf was practically rolling over.

One corner of his mouth kicked up. "You're about thirty seconds from shifting in a roomful of pack leaders. The drink has wolfsbane extract. It'll help."

I glanced down at my hands. Claws, not fingernails.

"Whatever," I muttered.

The bartender slid over the martini—swirling silver-blue like moonlight on water.

The stranger leaned closer. "Drink up. Your eyes are giving you away."

I knocked it back in one go, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste.

"Better?" he asked, voice so deep I felt it in my chest.

The effect was almost immediate. My wolf settled, claws retracting, teeth returning to normal.

"Thanks," I said reluctantly. "Though I'm not sure why you give a damn if I make a scene."

His eyes flicked to the dance floor, then back to me with unexpected heat. "Let's just say I have a soft spot for underdogs."

Before I could respond, people started moving aside, stepping back to clear a path. For him. The penny dropped.

"You're Blake Morgan," I said, my stomach doing a backflip. "The Silverpeak Alpha."

The Alpha King. The one who could destroy every Alpha in the world with a single command.

My wolf cowered and preened at the same time, a confusing mix.

"And you're wearing a mate mark that's being rejected." His gaze dropped to my neck where the silver-white mark throbbed. "Who did that to you?"

The question hung between us. Telling the Alpha King that his future son-in-law had marked and abandoned me seemed like a bad idea.

"Someone who decided power was more attractive than keeping his word," I said instead.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Your control is slipping again. Come with me."

It wasn't a suggestion. The words carried the weight of Alpha command, pressing against my will. My wolf, weirdly, didn't mind.

He guided me toward a private elevator, not touching me but close enough that his body heat reached across the inches between us. My skin prickled like I'd stuck my finger in an outlet.

The top floor suite was bigger than my entire house. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the forest and mountains beyond, silver moonlight pouring across dark furniture.

He went to a cabinet, returning with a glass of water and some dried herbs.

"Chew these," he instructed.

I raised an eyebrow. "You always carry herbs for random werewolves having meltdowns?"

"Only the interesting ones." Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "The mark on your neck—it's making you lose control, isn't it?"

I touched it reflexively, wincing. "They never covered 'what to do when your fated mate dumps you' in werewolf school."

"It's strange to see a marked wolf without their mate present." His voice dropped lower. "Especially at an event where that mate might be."

The gears turned behind his eyes. He was connecting the dots—my reaction downstairs, the mark, his daughter's fiancé.

"It's Jackson, isn't it?" he asked quietly. "My daughter's fiancé marked you."

I couldn't speak, but my silence said it all.

"When?"

"Four months ago," I said, tasting the bitterness. "Right before he decided being the next Shadow Creek Alpha was worth more than honoring a fated mate bond."

Blake's jaw tightened, the only sign that my words hit home. "And he never tried to break the mark properly?"

"Apparently dumping me in a coffee shop with 'it's not personal, it's politics' counts as closure in his book."

Blake moved closer, his scent wrapping around me like a warm blanket. My wolf, who should have been cowering before the most powerful Alpha in our world, was instead practically purring.

"May I?" His fingers hovered near my neck, not quite touching the mark.

I should have said no. This was Sophia's father. Jackson's future father-in-law. But my wolf pressed forward, tilting my head to expose the mark.

When his fingertips brushed my skin, lightning shot through me. His eyes darkened, pupils expanding.

Something flashed in his expression—surprise, confusion, then interest.

Instead of pulling away, he traced the outline of the mark. Heat bloomed from his touch, not the burning pain I'd gotten used to, but something warm and sweet that pooled low in my belly.

I couldn't deny it. My wolf was straining toward him like he was the last steak on earth.

"Why?" I whispered.

Why am I reacting to my ex's future father-in-law?

He shook his head slowly, still touching my neck. "I don't know what this is. But I want to find out."

The pull between us grew stronger with each heartbeat. When he finally leaned down, it felt inevitable—his mouth meeting mine with a hunger that matched my own. My hands grabbed his shirt, dragging him closer. His arms wrapped around me, lifting me effortlessly against him.

It was crazy. Completely nuts. He was the father of the woman who'd stolen my mate. The most powerful werewolf alive. And I was nobody—just a Delta's adopted daughter with a worthless mate mark.

My wolf didn't care. She recognized something in him that cut through all that human BS.

Just as his hands slid lower, a voice sliced through my mind:

Ava... they took your father...

I gasped, color draining from my face. My mother's voice, shaky and terrified, crashed through our mindlink with an urgency that chilled my blood.