His Daddy’s Fated Mate

8: Preparing

Hannah’s POV

The study door creaked open with a soft groan, and my pulse quickened before my head even turned. That scent. That infuriating, overpowering, utterly intoxicating scent hit me like a gust of wind, scattering my resolve.

It wrapped around me, warm and commanding, a mix of sandalwood and forest, with an earthy undertone that felt like stepping into a dense forest after a rainstorm. It was the kind of scent that could make a woman weak in the knees.

It wasn’t fair, really. My core tightened, and I hated it. Hated him. Hated myself even more for reacting to him like this.

Since I arrived at this pack, my body has betrayed me at every turn. Every time Liam was near, it was like my senses stopped listening to me and instead answered to him. It was infuriating and humiliating in equal measure. My stomach churned as I stayed glued to my spot, keeping my gaze down even as his heavy boots clicked against the tiled floor.

Why now? Why did his scent feel so potent, so unbearable? When I used to visit this pack, I’d never noticed it,not like this. I’d been around plenty of men in the human world, men with colognes that cost more than my rent, and they hadn’t done this to me. But this wasn’t just any man. It was Alpha Liam. My mate. And I hated that word more than anything right now.

I swallowed hard, planting my elbows on my knees and pressing my hands against my forehead. Maybe if I stayed like this, he’d just leave. But of course, that wasn’t going to happen.

The silence between us stretched as he stepped closer, his movements deliberate, his presence stifling. Mara, my wolf, was practically wagging her tail. Traitor.

"I can’t believe it either," she piped up in my head, sounding annoyingly giddy. "He’s still hot as hell, even for forty-two! That’s two decades older than us, you know."

"Shut up, Mara," I growled inwardly. "You’re not helping."

I caught the faint sound of wood creaking and glanced up, startled to see Liam folding his tall, broad frame onto the edge of the coffee table across from me. His long legs brushed against mine, and my whole body went rigid.

The tension between us was thick enough to choke on. For a moment, I dared to hope he wouldn’t say anything, that he’d just sit there in awkward silence until he got bored and left. But of course, Alpha Liam never left things alone.

“We have a meeting with your parents in an hour,” he said gruffly, his voice a deep rumble that carried no hint of emotion. His words might as well have been a slap to the face.

My head snapped up. “What?” I croaked, my voice hoarse from hours of crying.

“I don’t want them seeing you like this,” he continued, ignoring my stunned expression. His stormy eyes flicked over me, lingering on my red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. “Go clean yourself up.”

I blinked at him, anger bubbling beneath my confusion. “Excuse me?”

He sighed, clearly impatient. “Go shower, Hannah. You look like a mess. And if you don’t, I’ll—”

I shot to my feet before he could finish, my fists clenched. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” I snapped, my voice shaking. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

For a moment, he looked taken aback, but then his jaw tightened. Before I could even register what was happening, he closed the distance between us in one long stride. His hands reached out, and I flinched back instinctively, my heart pounding.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice low and almost (almost) gentle. But his eyes were anything but. They burned with frustration, anger, and something else I couldn’t place.

I didn’t believe him. Not after what he’d done earlier. “You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” I spat.

He didn’t reply. Instead, in one swift motion, he scooped me into his arms as if I weighed nothing. I yelped, my hands flying to his chest in an attempt to push him away, but it was useless. His grip was ironclad, his body solid and unyielding.

“Put me down!” I demanded, squirming in his hold.

“Stop moving,” he growled, his breath hot against my ear. “Unless you want me to drop you on the floor.”

I stilled, glaring at him as he carried me across the room. My face burned with humiliation as we passed through a door I hadn’t even noticed before a hidden entrance to a private bathroom.

The space was simple, clean, and entirely too masculine. Matte gray tiles lined the floor, while taupe walls created a neutral backdrop. A sleek vanity with a white basin and chrome faucet stood against one wall, its mirror framed in black. The shower, enclosed in glass, gleamed under the soft glow of recessed lighting.

Liam set me down gently, his hands lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back.

“Shower,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You have ten minutes. If you’re not done by then, I’ll do it myself.”

I stared at him, stunned and furious. Before I could come up with a retort, he turned on his heel and left, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.

For a moment, I just stood there, my chest heaving with unspent anger. Then, with a frustrated growl, I turned toward the shower. I hated that he was right, I did need to clean up before seeing my parents. But that didn’t make it any less infuriating.

Stripping off my clothes, I stepped under the warm spray, letting the water wash away the tears and frustration clinging to my skin. But no amount of scrubbing could rid me of the man who had become a storm in my lif. one I couldn’t escape, no matter how hard I tried.