5
1129 Words
NIKOLAI
“I wouldn’t call if I weren't desperate…Nikolai, we’re barely living…Please, help us.”
Her voice on the line was ragged. I thumped the end call icon and let it hover. Debra was the last person I expected to ask for help and the last person I’d think to help.
“With what you did to me, Debra, you’re bold,” I said finally.
“I know you’re mad but now is not the time. I am willing to do anything for a safe space,” she pleaded, then her voice went quiet for a beat as she inhaled. “Still interested in having a child? I’m a dominant, special omega, Nikolai. My kids tend to be alphas. You want that, right?”
“And if I have that, what next?” I tested her. I needed to know if what she wanted beyond shelter.
She laughed, small and sharp. “If you had that, you could have ended the call the moment I offered.”
I squeezed the phone so hard the case creaked. I hated being called out, but she was right. “Who is this ‘we’ you keep talking about?”
“Me and my nineteen-year-old daughter, Romy. We want to be part of your pack. Under your protection.”
“Who are you running from?” I asked.
“Your older brother, Dmitri.”
The words stopped me cold. Years had passed since I last heard that name, yet it still filled me with rage. “How soon can you get pregnant?”
“As soon as I’m with an alpha. My mate died. I’m no longer bound to him. I just want to protect the legacy he left behind, my Romy. We are tired of running.”
And that sealed the agreement. I might despise Debra for her betrayal, but nothing outweighed my hatred for Dmitri. I didn’t even want to know her offense against him.
Besides, she was offering exactly what I needed. What I have been searching for . With an omega like her, an alpha child was guaranteed, a rightful heir, and a perfect reason to bring them into Moonclaw.
The day arrived, Debra pushed her daughter forward like it had all been planned, only that Romy seemed to have forgotten her line. “Go on, dear. Greet your stepfather.”
I looked at her then. Smaller than I expected. Dirty blonde hair framed her face, those sharp gemstone-green eyes too old for nineteen. Two faint beauty marks dotted her left eye, drawing attention. Innocent but in pain.
She carried herself like someone trying to vanish, shoulders tight, chin lowered, her heart-shaped lips puckered unknowingly, whilst she tried her hardest to look fierce.
Something in me jolted. Not surprise. Not recognition. More like a feathered wire wrapped around my heart, tightening yet so delightful. Her scent hit me, soft, slipping past the suppressants, laced with something that twisted my lower gut.
For one suspended second, the room was silent, and even Debra, who was speaking, disappeared. There was only her. Those guarded green eyes, flickering up at me, and the soft rise and fall of her chest.
I couldn’t explain what had gotten into me to see my soon-to-be stepdaughter in such a way, but I knew it was unholy and best buried. So I avoided her. It was easy, since she hated me.
She didn’t even try to hide it, though I warned her never to show her hostility towards the alpha of the pack. If I must confess, I only warned her because a part of me wanted to be treated kindly. I couldn't care less who likes me or not.
So when I saw Lana trying to frame her, I should have stepped in before she lashed out.
“You should apologize, Romy. Violence is never the answer,” I told her softly. Me–soft. I had never spoken gently, not even to my dying father. But with this stubborn girl, I found myself trying.
Romy didn’t take it as comfort. She burst into tears and somehow still managed to force the words, “you are so biased. I f*****g hate you .”
She stormed away, holding back sobs that carried so much pain they made my chest clench, even as anger pounded through my veins.
“Svetlana,” I turned to her, voice cold.
She brushed her fake blonde hair behind her ear, trying to look innocent as always “I was just playing with her, not my fault, she decided to act like a bit—”
I struck her before she could finish. Not hard, but hard enough.
Her eyes widened then watered instantly, lips twisting in a trembling pout. “You hit me…because of her?”
“No, I was just playing with you, not my fault you decided to act like a b***h,” I said, throwing her childish words back before leaving her there, crying with hopes it would affect me.
Lana had always been a brat, but I had enabled her nastiness by staying silent. And now, because of the freedom I gave her, Romy was furious with me.
I dragged both hands through my hair, feeling the mild wetness from the run I had before all this. What the hell was wrong with me? Why did I care so much what that girl thought of me? I kicked the chair, the first thing I attacked after getting into my office. Was I really losing my mind over my stepdaughter?
That question haunted me the whole day. I couldn’t focus in meetings. I kept wondering how to make it right with her. Insanity, pure insanity. And yet the height of my madness came at night.
The last thing I remembered was thinking about her as my eyes fought the heaviness, shutting it…
I heard soft, echoing laughter in a room filled with white curtains. I followed it, but it danced away, slipping further and further.
“Nikolai…”
Her voice stopped me cold. Romy… Why was she here?
I pushed through the curtain until I found her. She stood in a shallow pool of water, draped in sheer white fabric, her back to me, long hair spilling down.
Slowly, she peeled the fabric from her shoulders, turning just enough to glance at me. When she smiled, my breath caught. The fabric slid to the floor, and her bare skin gleamed under the pale light.
She smirked at my reaction and began to turn fully—
But the alarm blared.
I shot upright. Panting, I dragged the duvet aside only to see the tent that had formed between my legs. Heat crawled up my neck. Shame burning hotter than desire. What kind of man dreams of his stepdaughter?
- Writer
