One Shot Wonders Part 2

The pain was a living thing, a feral beast chewing through her insides. It wasn't just in her heart; it was in her very blood, a phantom agony where the mate bond with Kael had once burned bright and true. Every ragged breath hurt. Every thought was a shard of glass. And the image of him, naked and tangled in the sheets with her own sister, was branded on the back of her eyelids. A low, wounded sound escaped her throat, half-human sob, half-wolf’s whimper. He broke it. He shattered us. Her wolf, a furious, grieving shadow just beneath her skin, didn’t whimper. It roared. A raw, primal sound of betrayal that demanded vengeance, not tears. Revenge. The word was a drumbeat in her soul, drowning out the pain with a cold, sharp purpose. She knew exactly what would make him truly suffer. It wasn’t violence. Kael was a proud, arrogant bastard, the heir-apparent to the Blackwood pack. His identity was built on his name, his status, his powerful father’s approval. To see that pride shattered… to see him brought low… there was only one way. She would take his father. The Alpha. Lysander Blackwood was a legend, a mountain of a man who had ruled their pack for decades with an iron will. He was ancient power and terrifying focus. And he had been alone since his own mate had abandoned him years ago. A lonely king in a silent castle. That’s where she would strike. An hour later, she stood outside the heavy oak doors of his private study, her heart hammering against her ribs. She’d chosen the dress carefully, a simple slip of black silk that clung to every curve, the neckline plunging just enough to hint at the swell of her breasts. She didn’t knock. She turned the handle and stepped inside. The room was all dark wood and the scent of aged whiskey and old books. And him. Lysander stood by the fireplace, a crystal tumbler in his hand, his broad back to her. He didn’t turn. “I know why you are here, Elara.” His voice was like gravel, deep and unnervingly calm. It washed over her, a physical sensation. It threw her off balance. She had prepared for questions, for demands. Not this… quiet certainty. She steeled herself, letting the door click shut behind her. “Do you, Alpha?” He finally turned, and his gaze was like a physical touch. It wasn’t the hungry, possessive look Kael always gave her. This was… appraising. He drank her in, from the precarious heels on her feet to the desperate fire in her eyes, and she felt utterly transparent. He sees the plan. He sees the hurt. A flicker of fear went through her. “I saw the bond break,” he stated, his eyes never leaving hers. He took a slow step forward. “I felt the pack magic shudder with it. And I saw my son’s shame when he slunk back into the territory alone.” Another step. The space between them charged, electric. Elara’s mouth went dry. This wasn’t going according to plan. Shewas supposed to be the seductress, the one in control. “So you came here,” he murmured, now so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the clean, masculine scent of him, oak moss and cold night air. “To use me as your weapon. To make him watch the one thing he can never have, the woman he threw away belong to his Alpha. His father.” Her breath hitched. He had laid her entire pathetic, vengeful scheme bare. Humiliation burned her cheeks. She was a fool. But then his hand came up, not to strike her, but to cradle her jaw. His thumb, calloused and warm, stroked her cheekbone with a shocking gentleness. His eyes held hers, and the anger she expected wasn’t there. Instead, she saw… heat. A deep, smoldering hunger that had nothing to do with her revenge. “What you don’t realize, little wolf,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a intimate rumble that vibrated deep in her core, “is that you are offering me the one thing I have wanted for a very, very long time.” He leaned in, his lips a hairsbreadth from hers. His other hand settled on her hip, his grip firm, possessive. “I have watched you. Not as my son’s pretty mate. But as a woman. A strong, beautiful, fierce woman standing in a shadow she did not cast.” His thumb traced her lower lip. “Your revenge is my invitation. And I am accepting.” Then his mouth was on hers. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a claim. A firm, demanding pressure that stole the air from her lungs and the thoughts from her head. All her plans, her pain, her fury, it all melted under the sheer, overwhelming sensation of Lysander Blackwood kissing her. His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting of whiskey and pure, undiluted power. A moan, unbidden, escaped her throat. Her hands came up, clutching at the hard planes of his chest, not to push him away, but to hold on as the world tilted. The raw, grieving ache inside her began to twist, transform, igniting into something else entirely, a fierce, desperate need. He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged. His eyes were wild, lupine gold flashing in their depths. “This is not for him,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “This is for us.” In one swift motion, he gripped the thin straps of her dress and pulled. The fragile silk tore with a sharp sound, baring her to the waist. The cool air hit her skin, followed immediately by the searing heat of his gaze. He looked at her like a starving man seeing a feast. “Mine,” he snarled, the Alpha power in the word vibrating through her very bones. It wasn’t a question. He backed her against the heavy desk, papers and artifacts scattering to the floor. His mouth found her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin where a mating mark would one day go, and the sensation was so intense, so electrifying, that her knees buckled. He held her up effortlessly, his hands sliding down her back to grasp her bare hips. He devoured her with his mouth, laving attention on one peaked n****e, then the other, his tongue circling, sucking, until she was crying out, her fingers tangling in his dark hair. The agony of the broken bond was a distant memory, utterly incinerated by the inferno he was building inside her. He unfastened his pants, the sound harsh in the silent room. He was already hard, thick and heavy and terrifyingly real. He pushed her back until she was lying across the polished wood of his desk, completely exposed to him. He leaned over her, caging her in. “Look at me, Elara.” She forced her eyes open, meeting his fierce, golden stare. “This is for you,” he breathed, and then he was pushing inside her. She cried out, a sharp, choked sound at the sudden, stunning fullness. He was everywhere, stretching her, filling the empty, aching hollow the broken bond had left behind. He stilled, letting her adjust, his entire body trembling with the effort. And then he began to move. It was not gentle. It was primal, a relentless, driving rhythm that stole her breath and her sanity. Each thrust was a promise, a punishment, a claiming. Her hips rose to meet his, a matching desperation taking hold. The slick, hot friction built a coil of pure pleasure so intense it was almost pain. Her nails dug into the hard muscle of his shoulders as he drove into her, again and again, the desk creaking in protest beneath them. She could feel her climax mounting, a tidal wave gathering force. She was so close, teetering on the edge, her world narrowed to the feeling of him pistoning inside her, the scent of their coupling, the raw, animal sounds tearing from his throat. “Lysander,” she gasped, the name a plea, a prayer. He growled, a deep, feral sound that seemed to shake the room. One hand slipped between their sweat-slicked bodies, his thumb finding her clit, pressing in tight, perfect circles. That was all it took. The world shattered. Her back arched off the desk as a climax ripped through her, violent and absolute, blinding white pleasure searing through every nerve ending. She screamed his name, her body convulsing around him, milking him, pulling him deeper into the abyss with her. With a final, powerful thrust, he followed her over, his own release a hot, pulsing flood inside her. His roar of completion was the last thing she heard before she dissolved into sensation, his weight a welcome anchor as she fell back to earth. For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing. The scent of s*x and satisfaction hung heavy in the air. He was still inside her, still pressed against her, his forehead resting on her shoulder. Slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes, now a calm, deep brown, searched hers. The fierce Alpha was gone, replaced by a man who looked… sated. Awestruck. He brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead. A slow, wicked smile touched his lips. “Do you still want your revenge, little wolf?”