Daddy’s wild girl

Chapter 13

The circle of wolves around us seemed to hold its collective breath. The bass from the speakers was a physical thrum in the floorboards, but in our little radius of chaos, the only sound was the jagged rhythm of my own breathing.

Ethan didn't wait for a verbal invitation. He moved with the fluid, terrifying speed of an Alpha in training. One moment he was sitting across from me, and the next, he was looming over me, his knees pinning my thighs to the hardwood floor. His hands, large and warm, slid up my neck, his thumbs forcing my chin up so my throat was completely exposed.

The red dress felt like a target. I could see the hunger in his eyes—a raw, competitive hunger. He didn't want me because he liked me; he wanted me because he could smell the king who had been there first.

"Let’s see how he likes sharing," Ethan whispered, his breath hot against my ear.

He leaned in, his lips grazing the sensitive cord of my neck, right over the fading bruise Collins had left. I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I expected the sharp sting of teeth. I expected the claim.

But the moment Ethan’s teeth grazed my skin, he froze.

A low, guttural vibration started in his chest—not a growl of pleasure, but a whine of pure, instinctual terror. He recoiled as if he’d been burned by white-hot iron. He scrambled back, his hands dropping from my skin, his eyes wide and blown out with fear. He was staring at my neck as if he’d just seen a ghost.

"What the hell..." Ethan gasped, his chest heaving. "What is he?"

The scent radiating from my skin in that moment wasn't just a mark; it was a warning. It was the crushing, suffocating power of a High Alpha so dominant that even his lingering scent acted as a physical barrier. Ethan’s wolf had recognized a predator it couldn't hope to challenge.

The group stared, confused. "What happened, Ethan? You chicken out?" Cody mocked, though his voice lacked conviction.

Ethan didn't answer. He wiped his mouth, his face pale. "Game’s not over," he snapped, trying to reclaim his ego. "Spin the damn bottle."

I sat there, trembling, my hand going to my neck. I felt a sick sense of triumph mixed with dread. Even miles away, Collins was protecting his property.

The game continued, getting progressively rawer and more depraved. A girl was dared to shift and hunt a raw steak through the crowd; Cody was dared to let someone use his back as a dartboard. I watched it all with a mounting sense of disbelief. I knew wolves were primal, but Lycaon Academy was on a different level. It was as if being away from their packs had stripped away their last shred of human restraint.

Then, the bottle spun and landed on Ethan again.

"Dare," Ethan barked before anyone could offer him a choice. He was looking at me, his pride clearly wounded from his earlier failure, his eyes searching for a way to prove he wasn't afraid.

Jax, the guy with the buzzed cut, stepped onto a small wooden platform that served as a stage for the DJ. He looked down at the circle with a wicked grin. "Ethan, our Golden Boy... I dare you to pick the person in this room you find the hottest, take them up on this stage, and f**k them in front of everyone."

The room erupted. Shouts, whistles, and the banging of cups filled the Mill. It was a dare designed to break the last of the tension, a display of raw, animalistic dominance.

I felt a cold pit form in my stomach. I looked at Molly, expecting her to look disgusted, but she was cheering along with the rest. My eyes flickered to the door, wondering if I could slip away. I knew it wouldn't be me. Ethan wouldn't dare touch me again after whatever he had just felt on my skin. He’d pick a senior girl, or maybe Molly.

Ethan stood up slowly. He didn't look at the crowd. He didn't look at the girls throwing themselves at him. He walked straight toward the circle.

My breath hitched. Not me. Please, not me.

He stopped in front of a tall, athletic girl with dark braids who had been watching him all night. She stood up, a confident, predatory smile on her face. Ethan didn't say a word; he just grabbed her hand and led her toward the stage.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I felt a strange, confusing pang of something—not jealousy, but a weird hollow feeling. I watched as they climbed onto the platform. The music shifted to something slower, heavier, with a bassline that felt like a heartbeat.

It was the rawest thing I had ever seen. There was no romance, no softness. It was two predators engaging in an act of pure, unadulterated power. Ethan stripped off his shirt, his back muscles rippling under the strobe lights. The girl didn't hesitate, stepping out of her clothes until she was as exposed as he was.

The crowd pressed closer to the stage, a sea of glowing eyes and heavy breathing. I stayed where I was, frozen on the floor. I was surprised at how clinical they were about it, how open. To them, this wasn't a sin; it was nature.

As Ethan pinned the girl against the DJ's table, his movements aggressive and rhythmic, I felt a strange sensation on the back of my neck. The air in the Mill suddenly felt heavy. The smell of the crowd—the sweat, the beer, the s*x—was being pushed aside by a familiar, thunderous scent.

Rain. Cedar. Ozone.

I turned my head toward the back of the room. Standing in the shadows near the entrance was a figure that made my heart stop.

Collins.

He wasn't moving. He was just standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes two glowing orbs of molten gold in the darkness. He wasn't looking at the stage. He was looking directly at me.