Tempting My Stepsister’s Alpha

CHAPTER FOUR — LEANDER

(Mature Content Ahead)

Sleep was not happening.

He had known it wouldn’t — had known since he sat in the chair with the bracelet in his hand and his wolf doing that low insistent pull toward a floor below where a girl with amber eyes was probably resting with the infuriating composure she appeared to bring to everything.

At two in the morning he gave up pretending.

He stripped off his shirt, set the bracelet on the bedside table with deliberate care and walked out through the suite’s private terrace onto the grounds below. The Summit estate backed onto a stretch of old forest — maintained, unlike the dead land between territories, but dense enough and dark enough to serve his purposes.

He needed to run.

His wolf needed the night.

The moon pulled at him, restless and demanding, so he slipped away from the guest wing, stripped, and shifted. The massive black wolf tore through the forest, muscles burning, trying to outrun the wrongness of Elowen’s scent and the constant, gnawing pull toward the girl he wasn’t supposed to want.

Until her scent hit him like a drug.

He slowed, then stopped at the edge of the trees where the river widened into a calm pool. Moonlight spilled across the water like liquid silver.

And there she was.

Elowen.

Completely naked, standing waist-deep in the river with her back partially to him. Her long dark hair hung wet down her back, droplets tracing the elegant line of her spine. She tilted her head back, letting the water cascade over her shoulders and breasts. The movement lifted her full t**s, n*****s tight and glistening in the cool air.

Leander shifted back to human form without thinking, staying crouched in the deep shadows. His c**k was already hard, throbbing painfully against his thigh.

She didn’t know he was there.

At least… that’s what she wanted him to believe.

Elowen ran her hands slowly up her arms, then down over her breasts, cupping them gently as if simply washing. But the way her thumbs brushed over her n*****s — slow, deliberate circles — made his breath catch. She arched her back slightly, pushing her chest forward into the moonlight, water streaming down her body in shining drops.

One hand trailed lower, gliding over her stomach, then dipping between her thighs. She parted her legs just enough that the moonlight caught the slickness at her core. Two fingers stroked lazily over her c**t, then pushed inside her with a soft, wet sound that carried across the water.

Leander’s fist clenched around the base of his c**k. He didn’t dare stroke yet. Not here.

She continued bathing, pretending complete innocence. She turned slowly in the water, giving him a full view of her body — the curve of her ass, the way her breasts swayed with every movement, the soft pink of her p***y as she slowly f****d herself with her fingers. Her lips were parted, breath coming in quiet little sighs, but she never once looked toward the trees.

She knew.

The calculated grace in every touch, the way she lingered on her most intimate places, the arch of her back — it was all for him.

His wolf was losing control.

It slammed against his ribs, snarling, claws pushing at his fingertips, fangs aching to drop. Mine. Go to her. Pin her in the water. Bite. Knot. Claim.

Leander’s hand tightened around his c**k as he watched her slide a third finger inside herself, hips rolling subtly. Her head fell back, a soft, breathy moan escaping her lips. Water droplets clung to her lashes and lips. She looked like a moon-drenched goddess — innocent and filthy at the same time.

He couldn’t take it.

With a vicious growl he wrenched himself away from the tree line and ran. Barefoot, naked, c**k aching and leaking, he sprinted through the forest back to his suite.

The door slammed shut behind him.

He barely made it to the bed before he collapsed onto it, legs spread wide, fist wrapped tight around his throbbing shaft.

“f**k… Elowen,” he groaned, stroking himself hard and fast.

The images flooded him.

Her wet, naked body glowing under the moon. Those perfect t**s, n*****s begging to be sucked. The way her fingers disappeared into her tight, glistening p***y. The soft, innocent sighs she made while pretending she didn’t know he was watching her touch herself.

He pumped faster, thumb smearing precum over the swollen head. “So f*****g beautiful… touching that pretty cunt like a little slut.”

His wolf howled inside him, still furious he hadn’t claimed her.

Leander imagined stepping out of the trees, grabbing her from behind, bending her over the river rocks and slamming into her soaked heat while he sank his teeth into her neck.

“Should’ve taken you right there,” he snarled to the empty room, hips bucking violently into his fist. “Should’ve filled that tight p***y with my c**k and my knot. Marked you so deep you’d never forget who you belong to.”

The fantasy pushed him over the edge.

With a guttural roar, Leander came hard. Thick, powerful ropes of c*m shot across his abs and chest, pulse after pulse, harder than he had in months. He kept stroking through every wave, milking himself dry to the memory of her body in the moonlight.

When it finally subsided, he lay there panting, covered in sweat and his own release, staring at the ceiling.

His wolf still wasn’t satisfied.

Watching her had only made the hunger worse.

She’s ours, it said. With the simple finality of a thing that considered the matter closed.

“She is a woman I spoke to for a few minutes on a terrace,” Leander said to the empty room.

She is ours, his wolf repeated, with the tone of something that found this distinction irrelevant.

——————————————————————

Three floors below, in the narrow staff quarters at the back of the east wing, Elowen Mosswood wrapped her hair in a towel, sat on the edge of her bed and allowed herself one small precise smile.

He had followed the scent.

She had known he would — had counted on it, had chosen the river specifically because it sat downwind of the path any wolf running the estate grounds would naturally take. Had timed her bath for the hour when the grounds were quiet enough that a large black wolf moving through the trees would have no reason to moderate his pace until something stopped him.

She had felt the exact moment he arrived. That pull — that inconvenient specific warmth she had been managing since the entrance hall — had sharpened suddenly into something directional and close and she had known without looking that he was behind the trees at the river’s edge watching with the particular quality of attention she had already learned to recognize as his.

She had stayed.

That small involuntary sound from the tree line had told her everything she needed to know.

His control had cracked.

She set down her towel and looked at her left wrist — bare, as it had been for two years. The ghost of her mother’s bracelet. The absence she had stopped expecting to fill.

One down, she thought. Two to go.

She reached over and turned off the lamp.

In the dark she let herself feel it — the pull, the warmth, the complicated thing her dormant wolf kept doing in his direction that she had absolutely no intention of examining honestly.

Not yet.

He’s already coming apart, she told herself. Stay focused. Stay cold. Use it.