My Alpha Stepbrother’s Obsession

The cold bit through my skin before the chains did. I stumbled when the wolf shifter guard shoved me forward, and the iron around my wrists rattled. Four years. Four years I'd run, and it took them less than a week to drag me back. "Keep moving, traitor." The Blackwood Pack gates rose in front of me, black stone slick with rain. The same gates I'd slipped through at sixteen, bare feet silent on the gravel, heart pounding like I'd die if I stayed one more second. Now I was coming back in chains, and my heart was pounding for the same reason. Fear. The great hall smelled like pine and wet fur and power. Fifty wolves lined the walls, heads turned toward me. Their eyes weren't curious. They were hungry. And at the end of the hall, on the stone throne, sat Draven. He'd been nineteen when I ran. He was twenty-three now. Broad shoulders filled the black jacket he wore. Dark hair fell over his forehead. A thin scar cut through his left brow - new, since I'd left. His jaw was tight. His eyes, when they landed on me, were flat and cold. Like he was looking at a problem he had to solve. Not at the girl he'd raised. Not at his step-sister. Not at his fated mate. "Bring her here," he said. His voice was low. Deeper than I remembered. The guard yanked the chain, and I lurched forward. My knees hit the stone floor five feet from the throne. I kept my eyes down. If I looked at him, I'd remember. I'd remember his hands teaching me to shoot. His voice telling me I was safe. The way he'd looked at me the night before I ran, like he wanted to say something and couldn't. "Lila Hart." The Beta, Marcus, read from a scroll. "Four years ago, you fled the Blackwood Pack without permission. You broke pack law. You shamed your family. Alpha Draven has sentenced you to return and face judgment." I didn't answer. What was there to say? I ran because I had to. Because if I stayed, I'd have to face the bond that tied me to him, and I wasn't ready. I wasn't strong enough. "Look at me." Draven's voice cut through the hall. I couldn't ignore it. My eyes lifted. Mistake. His eyes were grey, like storm clouds, and they pinned me in place. He wasn't handsome anymore. He was dangerous. His face was harder, his mouth set in a line that didn't bend. He studied me like he was memorizing every scar, every change. "You're thinner," he said finally. Not loud. Just for me. "You look tired." I swallowed. "I'm fine." A lie. Wolves could smell it. I saw his nostrils flare slightly. The bond between us snapped. It hit like a punch to the chest. One second, nothing. The next, heat flooded my veins, my skin prickled, and my wolf rose inside me, clawing to get to him. To him. To Draven. My fated mate. My stepbrother. The man I'd spent four years trying to forget. I gasped. My hands gripped the chain to keep from reaching for him. Draven's expression didn't change. But his eyes darkened. He smelled it too. The bond. The pull. The fact that my body was betraying me right here, in front of the whole pack. "Take her to my room," he said, standing. "Lock the door." Murmurs rippled through the hall. Marcus stepped forward. "Alpha, the dungeons-" "She's not going to the dungeons." Draven's voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. "She's mine for six months. My punishment to deal with." My blood went cold. Mine. The word echoed in my head. Not prisoner. Not traitor. Mine. Two guards hauled me to my feet. I didn't fight. I couldn't. The bond had my legs shaking. Draven turned and walked out, and the pack parted for him like water. His room was at the top of the tower. Cold stone walls. A massive bed with black sheets. A fireplace, unlit. And a window that looked over the whole territory. The same room I'd cleaned when I was fifteen, when his father was still Alpha. The guards shoved me inside. The door slammed. The lock clicked. I was alone. I sank to the floor, pressing my back to the door. My wolf whined. She wanted him. She wanted to run to him, press her face to his neck, breathe him in. I hated her for it. I hated me for it. The door opened again ten minutes later. Draven stepped in. He didn't look at me at first. He shrugged off his jacket, tossed it on a chair. Underneath, a black shirt stretched across his chest. The scar on his brow looked worse up close. "You ran," he said, still not looking at me. "Yes." "Why?" I closed my eyes. "Because I had to." He turned then. Crossed the room in three strides and crouched in front of me. Up close, I could see the flecks of silver in his grey eyes. I could smell him - pine, leather, and something darker, wilder. My wolf surged. "Look at me, Lila." I did. God help me, I did. "You think I don't know?" His voice was rough. "You think I didn't feel the bond snap four years ago, when you left? You think I didn't spend every night since wondering where you were, if you were safe, if you were-" He cut himself off. His jaw clenched. "You're mine, Lila. You've always been mine. Running didn't change that." Tears burned my eyes. I blinked them back. "I'm not yours. I'm not anything to you." "Liar." He said it softly. He leaned in, just a little, and inhaled. His eyes flickered. "You smell like fear. And like..." His voice dropped. "Like arousal." Heat flooded my face. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to run again. "You can't keep me here," I whispered. "Watch me." He stood. "You sleep in my bed tonight." "What?" "Forced proximity, Lila. Pack law. Until I decide what to do with you, you don't leave this room. And you don't leave my sight." He walked to the bed and pulled back the covers. "Get in." I stared at him. "You're insane." "Probably." He didn't smile. "Get. In." My wolf was screaming. My human brain was begging me to refuse. But my legs moved. I climbed onto the bed, staying on the far edge, as far from him as possible. Draven blew out the candles. Darkness swallowed the room. I heard him strip off his shirt, heard the bed dip as he lay down on the other side. A foot of space between us. It felt like nothing. I lay stiff, staring at the ceiling, listening to him breathe. Slow. Steady. Like he wasn't affected at all. Like I wasn't shaking apart next to him. "Lila," he said after a long time. "Don't." "You ran because of the bond." Not a question. I didn't answer. "I should punish you," he said. "For running. For lying. For making me think you were dead." "Then do it." My voice cracked. "Stop pretending you care." The bed shifted. His hand brushed my arm in the dark. Just his fingertips, but fire shot through me. I flinched. "I do care," he said, so quiet I almost didn't hear. "That's the problem." I turned my face to the wall. Tears slipped down my cheeks. I didn't make a sound. Behind me, Draven didn't move away. He stayed there, close enough that I could feel his heat, his presence, the bond thrumming between us like a live wire. I fell asleep dreaming of him at sixteen, shirtless in the training yard, sweat on his skin, eyes on me when he thought I wasn't looking. The night before I ran. I woke to him watching me. His grey eyes were dark in the early morning light. He was propped on one elbow, studying my face like he was trying to solve me. "Good morning, Lila," he said. I sat up fast, pulling the blanket to my chest. "Don't call me that." "What should I call you, then? My punishment?" My stomach twisted. "I hate you." "No, you don't." He stood, pulling on his shirt. "Pack dinner tonight. You'll come with me." "I'm not-" "You are." He looked back at me. "You're mine, Lila. For six months. And everyone in this pack is going to know it." He left. The door locked behind him. I pressed my hands to my face and tried not to scream. My wolf was happy. She thought this was a win. That he wanted me. That the bond was pulling him back. But I knew better. Draven didn't want me. He wanted control. And I was trapped in his room, in his bed, in his territory, with a bond I couldn't break and a man I couldn't trust. Six months. God, how was I going to survive six months with him? Outside the window, the moon was already starting to wax. Full moon was in two weeks. And I remembered what happened to Draven when the moon was full. His control slipped. His wolf took over. And last night, for just a second, when he'd leaned close and inhaled my scent, I'd seen it. The hunger in his eyes. The way his hands had flexed, like he wanted to grab me. He'd stopped himself. Next time, I wasn't sure he would.