Ruined By Five: My Brother’s Alpha Bestfriends Want Me

VIOLET I think I have cold feet. The thought keeps circling in my head like an annoying mosquito. The place is full of laughter, clinking glasses, and expensive cologne, but my stomach won't settle. I sip my mocktail and plaster on the sweet, polished smile I've perfected over three years of being Damien Black's fiancée. He loves me. He does. Even if our engagement was strategically engineered by my family's old money connections, it's not like we're strangers. We’ve been together for three years. He's been busy lately, yes. Distant, even. But that's just the pressure of the wedding. Right? I catch sight of him across the room, standing in the corner with his best friend, Marcus. They're laughing too closely, their heads tilted towards each other. Tonight something feels... off. I set my glass down a little harder than necessary and weave through the small crowd. My silver-blonde hair is pinned up exactly how he likes it, my dress is soft lavender silk that hugs my curves without being scandalous. Perfect omega bride material. Damien notices me approaching and straightens, flashing that million-dollar smile. "Violet, baby," he rasps, pulling me against his side. His hand settles possessively on my waist. "You look bored. Everything okay?" His touch is warm and familiar. So why does my skin feel restless under it? "I'm fine," I say, keeping my voice light and a little sassy. "Just wondering if my fiancé plans on remembering I exist before the wedding, or if I should start sending carrier pigeons." Marcus chuckles. Damien's friends nearby laugh too, like I'm the evening's entertainment. Damien leans down and presses a kiss to my temple. "You know I've been slammed with the merger talks. But you're the only thing on my mind, beautiful. Always." His voice is so smooth. "That dress should be illegal. Every man here is jealous I get to call you mine." The praise lands like it always does, warm and flattering. I want to melt into it. Instead, I feel oddly detached. I tilt my head and give him a small, teasing smile. "Flattery won't make up for you ignoring my texts for two days, Mr. Busy." He laughs softly, his thumb stroking my hip. "Let me make it up to you." He reaches behind the bar and pours a glass of champagne, pressing the flute into my hand. "One drink. Then I'll take you upstairs, get you out of that dress, and rub your feet until you forgive me." I eye the glass. "You know I'm saving myself for the wedding night." His eyes darken with heat. "I know, baby. I respect that. Just one sip. For luck." From the sitting area, his friends cheer and whistle. "Go on, Black! Get your bride to bed!" Damien grins at them, then looks back at me with that intense, focused gaze that used to make my heart race. "Come on, Vi. Let me take care of you tonight." I take the glass. One sip won't hurt. The bubbles fizz on my tongue, crisp and cold. He watches me drink, satisfaction flashing across his face. "Good girl," he whispers. Then louder, for the whole room, he says, "That's my future wife." More cheers. I finish the glass faster than I meant to, the alcohol spreading warmth through my veins. My head feels a little fuzzy already. Maybe I really am just tired. "I think I'm going to bed," I tell him, handing the empty flute back. Damien's hand tightens on my waist. "I'll take you up." He guides me towards the private elevator, one arm around me. The moment the doors close, he spins me and kisses me hard. There's nothing gentle about it. His mouth claims mine, his tongue demanding entrance, one hand fisting in my perfectly pinned hair. I gasp into the kiss as he presses me back against the mirrored wall. For a second, heat sizzles in my belly. Then something cold and uneasy slithers in right behind it. He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, breathing hard. "Three more days," he whispers, his voice thick. "Then you're mine completely." I smile up at him even as my pulse flutters with unease. "Can't wait," I lie softly. The moment the elevator doors open to our suite, Damien doesn't waste time. As soon we enter the dimly lit suite, he kicks the door shut and pushes me against it, his mouth crashing back onto mine. This kiss is deeper and filthier than the one in the elevator. His tongue strokes mine with purpose, tasting like champagne. A sharp pulse of heat shoots straight between my legs. Gods, it's almost painful how fast my body responds. My core clenches, my wetness soaking my lace panties. I whimper into his mouth, my hips twitching involuntarily. "f**k, you're so responsive tonight," he groans. One hand slides down, bunching my dress up around my waist. His fingers trace the edge of my panties before pressing firmly against my soaked centre. "Already this wet for me? Good girl." I'm burning. The arousal is intense and feverish. My knees tremble as he rubs slow circles over my c**t through the drenched fabric. Then he draws closer, grinding the hard length of his c**k against me with every roll of his hips. A moan escapes me. I'm getting wetter with every thrust, the friction making my eyes flutter. He's panting now, humping me like he can't control himself, the swell of his d**k catching perfectly against my throbbing c**t again and again. "Damien... wait—" My voice comes out breathy and weak. "Stop. I don't want my first time like this. Not... not before the wedding—" He doesn't stop. "Just let me feel you, baby. You're so f*****g perfect. So wet already..." My head spins. The room tilts. My limbs feel heavy and boneless. The heat in my body is turning strange, like it's burning me from the inside. I try to push at his chest, but my arms won't obey. "Damien... please... stop—" Everything goes dark. I'm nineteen again, standing in the moonlit garden behind my brother's estate. The Five Supremes tower over me. My voice cracks as I bare my soul. "I have feelings for all of you. I want to be yours." Riven's voice is icy when he speaks. "You're a child playing with fire." Soren smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "You'd never survive us, darling." Carmine grunts. "We'd break you." Atlas looks like he's in pain. "You're too good for us." Reegan snarls. "f**k off, Violet. You're too innocent." Tears roll down my cheeks as the crushing feeling of despair hits me. I watch them walk away, their broad backs disappearing into the night. 'This is a dream,' I think hazily. 'This already happened years ago...' ... I jolt awake with a gasp. My head throbs. My body feels heavy and my limbs are sluggish. I'm lying on an enormous bed draped in black silk, the room vast and luxurious, with floor-to-ceiling windows showing a glittering city skyline I don't recognize at all. I push myself up… and freeze. Someone is standing at the foot of the bed. His eyes are silver. Cold and sharp like polished steel, cutting straight through me. His blank expression doesn't change as he watches me. Riven. Holy— A soft chuckle drifts from the left. I turn and my stomach drops. Leaning lazily against a marble pillar is another man, all relaxed. Golden eyes gleam under his lowered lashes, his mouth curved in something that almost looks like a smile. It doesn't reach his eyes. Soren. "Well," he drawls, his voice silky. "She's even prettier when she wakes up." My pulse spikes. "No..." The word barely leaves my lips. A third presence shifts closer. He doesn't speak. The air around him feels heavier and charged, like the moment before a storm breaks. His sea-green eyes drag over me slowly, taking in every detail. Carmine. I shrink back instinctively. A shadow moves to my right. He’s huge. Oh goddess, he’s even bigger than before. He hesitates before stepping fully into view, like he doesn't quite belong in the same space as the others. His hazel eyes are wide, conflicted, and filled with... guilt. Atlas. For a split second, relief blooms in my chest. It dies instantly. Because the last one steps forward. His presence hits me like a blade to the throat, feral and suffocating. Ice-blue eyes lock onto mine, burning with raw hunger. His lips curl into a wicked sneer. Reegan. Five of them. My heart slams against my ribs as my reality rushes in, dizzying. "This isn't—" My voice cracks. "This can't be real—" No one corrects me. They just... watch me. A scream tears out of my throat.