Claiming my Ex's Father in law

KAIA'S POV Today was supposed to be the day I got engaged to my fated mate. Instead, I’m sipping alcohol like it's water while watching him stick his tongue down another woman’s throat. Romantic, right? To make it worse, she's not just any woman—she's the daughter of Dominic freaking Voss, the most powerful Lycan chairman alive. Marrying her practically guarantees Alpha status. A few months ago, our Alpha bit the dust in a brutal battle. Since then, all the top wolves have been fighting tooth and claw to take his place. Including Kai. And the Lycans? Oh, they don’t just watch. They run the whole werewolf hierarchy like it’s a reality TV show. And Dominic? He’s basically the Simon Cowell of the supernatural world—his vote decides it all. So yeah, Kai made his choice. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t me. “Whiskey for me, and a martini for the lady,” a voice beside me drawled. “Tell me—who ruined your night? The blushing bride or the backstabbing groom?” “I’m just not a party person,” I muttered, trying not to sound like I was moments away from throwing my drink at someone. “Neither am I,” he said, his tone conspiratorial. “I only came because there was free booze and I like to wear suits.” The bartender slid the martini across. I downed half of it like it was a survival tactic. Meanwhile, Kai kissed her again. And again. My eye twitched. How did I end up in this alternate universe? How could the man who once tattooed “forever” on my soul with his teeth betray me like this? Two years together—down the drain like bad wine. Did the mark he left on my neck mean absolutely nothing? “Thanks for the drink,” I told the stranger, ready to make a dramatic exit. I took one last sip and tried to get down from the stool. Tried. My blouse snagged on the counter, I heard a rip, and before I could process that, I began falling—like my dignity. I shut my eyes, fully expecting to land face-first in heartbreak and hardwood. But instead of impact, I landed in arms. Strong ones. Warm ones. Possibly illegal in some countries. I opened my eyes and—hello, jawline. The man holding me looked like a Greek god who moonlit as a lumberjack. And when he smiled? A single dimple popped up on his cheek like it had its own agenda. I had to stop myself from licking it. “Well, well,” he teased. “Are you falling for me already?” I blinked. Twice. Then gave him my best unimpressed squint. “Cute. You rehearse that in the mirror?” “Only every morning,” he deadpanned. “I also do finger guns, if you're into that.” He looked down at my shirt, and the grin faded. “I think you just lost the blouse battle,” he said seriously. “Come upstairs with me—I’ve got something you can wear.” My brain lagged behind for a moment. “I’m sorry, what?” He held my gaze, and for a second, my soul forgot how to function. Seriously. No one should look that good. It should come with a warning label. “Your shirt’s ripped,” he said gently. “I have a fresh one upstairs. In my VIP suite.” Cue awkward laugh from me. “Oh. Oh! That makes sense. I thought you were—never mind. Thank you.” He turned to the bartender without missing a beat. “Put our drinks on my tab,” he said. “And maybe keep the stool away from her. It’s got attitude.” “Yes, sir.” I let the man carry me out of the room like I weighed nothing. His arms were so warm, so solid, I couldn’t help but rest my head against his chest. He smelled like mint and danger, and my wolf—who’d been sulking in silence all evening—suddenly perked up like someone had dropped steak in front of her. She was practically purring, already forgetting we’d been heartbroken mere hours ago. Once we reached the suite, he gently set me down and walked over to the closet. Then came the words that nearly short-circuited my brain. “Take off your shirt.” “Excuse me?” I squeaked, nearly choking on my own tongue. “So you can put on a new one,” he replied smoothly, tossing me a glance over his shoulder. “Right… obviously,” I muttered, cheeks blazing. I tugged the torn blouse over my head and flung it onto the bed, now standing in just my bra. While he rummaged through the closet, I took the chance to look at him—really look. And holy Alpha... the man was built like a warrior god sculpted from sin. But then he turned, shirt in hand, and froze mid-step. His eyes raked over me, slowly, appreciatively, and completely unapologetic. I barely noticed—too busy shamelessly checking him out. But the longer I stared, the more familiar he looked. And then it hit me like a runaway freight train. “It’s you…” I whispered, stepping back in disbelief. His gaze met mine, curious now. “You know me?” “I know of you,” I corrected quickly. A slow, knowing smirk played on his lips as he closed the distance between us. He moved with that effortless, predatory grace that said he was used to being feared... or followed. “And what exactly have you heard?” I swallowed hard. “You’re Dominic Voss. Lycan Chairman. The man with a reputation longer than my grocery list.” His brow lifted. “Is that so?” “You’re known as a playboy,” I continued. “A new woman every week, and never the same one twice.” He tilted his head, amused. “Go on. I’m curious what other bedtime stories people tell about me.” My heart thundered. Dominic freaking Voss. The father of the bride. The man who held Kai’s future in his palm. And here I was—half-naked in his suite. What in the fresh hell was I doing? I debated telling him who I was, but that would’ve been peak-level stupid right now. He kept walking toward me, slow and steady, until my back hit the wall. “And what else do you want to know about me?” he asked, his voice a low rasp. “Everything,” I breathed, barely recognizing my own voice. It was bold. Reckless. Probably fueled by a combination of martini fumes and post-breakup fury. If Kai got to move on so easily, why couldn’t I? I lifted my gaze to his, letting my eyes linger. “Your eyes... they’re just as mesmerizing as I’ve heard.” He arched a brow, clearly entertained. “What else?” “When you smile, there’s this dimple on your cheek,” I said softly. “It’s annoyingly charming.” He was only inches away now, eyes fixed on me like I was the only thing in the room worth seeing. I glanced at his lips. Big mistake. “And your lips…” I whispered. Before I could finish, he crashed his mouth to mine. There was nothing gentle about it—his kiss was raw, hungry, and laced with unspoken heat. I kissed him back, all thoughts of consequences drowned in the fire we’d just ignited. His hands gripped my hips as he lifted me effortlessly, pinning me between the wall and his body. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. His mouth moved down my neck, his lips claiming every inch of skin like he owned it. Every rational thought melted the second his hands touched me. All I wanted—all I felt—was him. I yanked at his tie, desperate to feel more of him. He helped, shrugging it off with practiced ease before pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. My fingers roamed over his chest, tracing his abs, memorizing the ridges of muscle and heat. He moaned into my mouth, and I swore I nearly lost what was left of my sanity. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked between kisses. “Yes,” I gasped. “We’re both adults. So why the hell not?” That was all the permission he needed. He kissed me again, harder, hands already reaching behind me to unhook my bra— Then it happened. A tearful voice tore through my mind via mindlink. “Kaia! Please, come home!” My mother. Her voice was frantic. Terrified. She never panicked. The sound hit me like a bucket of ice water. I gasped, dropping my legs from around Dominic’s waist and pressing both palms to his chest to stop him. His brows furrowed, clearly confused. But I couldn’t speak. I was already reeling, heart racing for a completely different reason now. Something was very, very wrong. “Stop,” I panted. “I have to go.” His brows drew together. “I don’t have much patience for jokes,” he said, his tone clipped with a flicker of irritation. “I’m not joking,” I said quickly, guilt bubbling up. “I’m sorry. Really. But I’m sure you’ve got a waiting list of willing women.” I turned and bolted for the door, but before I could make it, his hand wrapped around my arm, halting me mid-step. I spun around, my own frustration flaring to life, ready to give him a piece of my mind—until he calmly gestured toward the bed. “Your shirt’s still ripped. Remember?” I blinked and glanced down, suddenly aware I was standing there in just my bra like some tragic rom-com character. “Oh... right.” He let out a long breath and gently tugged his shirt over my head, the fabric soft and oversized. It draped over me, swallowing my frame, and I inhaled deeply. It smelled like him—clean, woodsy, minty—ridiculously comforting. As soon as I stepped inside the house, the sound hit me like a blow to the chest: sobbing. “Kaia?” my mother cried. Her voice echoed from the kitchen, brittle and full of pain. I froze at the doorway, dread curling in my stomach. “Your father… he was taken,” she choked out between sobs. “The Gammas came for him tonight.”