The Billionare Alpha's Desirre

Seraphina Death wasn’t what I expected. There were no bright lights. No pearly gates. And thank goodness for no fire and brimstone. Death was… quiet. Peaceful. Comfortable. Suspiciously comfortable. Like collapsing into a high-priced down bed after the longest day of your life. Which was odd, since I could have sworn that the afterlife included clouds and harps — not the smell of luxury bedding with a warm duvet tucked up around my shoulders. Unless Heaven had undergone a rebranding. The harder I tried to think, the more sense snuck through the darkness. The softness beneath my body. The comforting weight of blankets on top of me. The soft smell of something warm and clean. Then voices came ringing through the mist. “Should’a left her to die,” came a shrill female voice. Instant dislike bloomed inside me. ”There is no way that the pack will take her. She’s a bitten. She is no more than a beta. And hell, we’ve got enough of them.” Pack. Bitten. Beta. The words hit me like a bucket of cold water. I wrestled my way into consciousness, pieces of moments snapping into focus. I was lying on a bed. In a warm room. And there were people just on the other side of the door. How many? Who were they talking about? A long, slow breath slipped into my lungs — and something else new moved in me too. Instinct. Awareness. Two people in the corridor. One male. One female. Both lycan. My eyes flew open. How the hell did I know that? The revelation hit me in waves. How could humans discern species by smell through a closed door? Wolves were not in humans’ bones. Nobody else was home. Which meant they were talking about me. “You just don’t know that.” The male voice said coolly. "It's not unheard of for a bitten wolf to become an alpha. Rare, yes. But not impossible.” The woman laughed, the sound crackling and malicious. “Really? You’ve seen her. Humans, like all the other ones—pathetic! Weak-willed. Good enough to go to bed with, perhaps. But Darian Blackthorne is looking for a tougher woman to be his mate. And a wolf only bites once in a generation.” Darian. The name splintered something inside my chest. Memory flooded back. Teeth. Pain. Blood. Darkness. Okay. I had disliked her before. And now I had her mentally upgraded to cow-from-hell. Instead of a hospital ceiling, one covered in fabric. Rich blue fabric cascaded in graceful folds over my head, bunched to a whorl at the top. I traced it outward to a wooden post whose top was carved like a disk. Four-poster bed. Heavy. Antique. Definitely not heaven-issued. “Stronger?” the man—Ethan, apparently—laughed. 'You're the highest-ranked female in the pack, so I think it won't take much to guess what you expect Darian to breed with don't you Isabella?' Isabella. I could almost hear her shrug. “If the title fits… why not? An alpha female has to be strong. Capable in a fight. Able to enforce discipline.” I snickered as I struggled to rise. Even I, with my piss-poor knowledge of the lycan world, knew that leadership was about more than power. It was about responsibility. Protection. Sacrifice. Clearly not her strong suits. My head swam slightly. My legs dangled over the side of the bed and i peered down at myself. The last time I went to Old Town, I wore a long white nightgown that reached from my neck to my ankles. It wasn’t mine. Heat crept into my cheeks. Who had dressed me? That question opened the floodgates. Where was I? What happened after Darian bit me? Why did I see smell in the air, like streamers of dim light? “Welcome back to the world of living, Seraphina.” I looked up sharply. A tall figure was standing in the door. Broad-shouldered. Amber eyes. Calm expression. I would have said this man was the most beautiful creature to ever breathe if I hadn’t already met Darian Blackthorne. But I had. So Ethan took second place. “No, don’t get up.” He hurried across the room as I attempted to rise, a soft hand on my shoulder holding me in place. For a man who was built like a warrior, it was oddly tender. “You were injured. Out for a few days. Take it easy.” My head decided to spin for another go, so I collapsed on the mattress. “Yeah. Sitting sounds good.” “I’m Ethan. Pack medic.” He offered a small smile. “Mind if I check you over?” Medic. Shouldn’t that technically be vet? I prudently retained that to myself and nodded. He flashed a tiny spotlight in my eyes, then gingerly explored my neck. Something inside me flinched the second his fingers touched my skin. A soft, unfamiliar purr rumbled through my chest. Not mine. And yet— Mine. The second he was done, I pulled away. Relief flooded me. He noticed. Of course he did. He smiled knowingly and pulled his chair away from the bed a bit. His expression turned serious. My heart skipped. "Darian bit me," I blurted before he could say anything. “He made me a werewolf. — Darian Blackthorne was to the manor born. Old money. Old blood. Old wolf. The best was his from the start. The finest education. The most prestigious circles. Generations of dominance twisted inside his veins. And the pack. The Blackthorne pack had been his when his father had passed—along with the empire that was now his charge. The Blackthorne Alpha had everything twisted under his will. Everything. Except me. He stood beside the broad window of his manor office, looking out across the garden and grounds. I didn’t need to, because I could feel him. I could feel him even before seeing him that afternoon. As gravity tugging my bones. The bowling green spread in waves of lush green down below. There was a hammock that swayed leisurely under some trees. I was in it. The wind had kissed my skin, making strands of my hair to float. My body was still so fragile, as if made of glass not quite glued all the way back together. I hadn’t died. But I’d come close. And Darian had saved me. By biting me. The wind shifted. Even over into the grounds, his smell got to me. Dark cedar. Smoke. Something wild and electric. My pulse reacted instantly. I could feel him looking at me. Feel the tension in him. For although I was alive… I wasn’t out of danger. Conversion madness. The words had been muttered at my door more than one time. If my body reacted against the change, I might go out of my mind. Or my life. And even if I survived… I was a bitten wolf. A beta. The pack wouldn’t have an alpha breeding me. A spasm of pain gripped me in the chest at that thought. For the bond between us — whatever it was — felt anything but transitory. I moved in the hammock, losing my eyes on it. And in the manor above it, Darian Blackthorne stood still, half paralyzed by duty and desire. Between his pack… And me. I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t pathetic. And there was no way in hell I was going to let some power hungry alpha female determine my value. If I was to make it in this new world — I would carve my place in it. Even if I had to enter at the bottom. Even if I had to scrap for each inch. And if the pack thought I’d stand back and let Darian mate another woman- They were soon to find out just what kind of wolf I was turning into.