Luring My Alpha Stepbrother

Alissa's POV The first gray light of dusk settled over the room, casting an eerie stillness. I set my pen down, my gaze wandering toward the window. This time of day always unsettled me. If someone asked why, I’d answer with just four simple words: I hate going home. A message flashed on my phone, pulling me back to reality. "Not back yet?" Seeing the sender’s name—Ethan—only deepened my irritation. I typed a quick reply, Later, but deleted it just as fast. With a muted thud, I set my phone down on the desk, screen facedown, and pressed my stiff fingers against my forehead, trying to rub away the dull ache. This was my daily ritual before heading home—mentally bracing myself, convincing myself that the misery waiting for me was just another part of life, nothing out of the ordinary. The veiled insults, disdainful glares, and sudden kicks whenever my father or stepmother were in a bad mood—this had been my reality for over a decade now. Maybe it was my rebellious nature, but the harder they tried to beat me down, the stronger my urge to fight back grew. The only thing holding me back was that I hadn’t yet crafted the perfect plan for revenge. ... It all began the day my father brought his fated mate into our home, the Silver Oak Pack—a mere day after my mother’s passing. In losing her, I hadn’t just lost a parent; I’d lost my father as well. He had never truly loved my mother. The reason was simple: she wasn’t his fated mate. And because of that, he could never love me—the product of their unhappy, loveless union. Even so, there had been fleeting moments when he’d shown me care, and as the alpha’s daughter, I was treated with respect by the pack. But everything changed when Avery and her son, Ethan, entered my life. My father’s attention vanished entirely. No longer did he bother with even the occasional gestures of care. With Avery and Ethan, it was a different story altogether. Avery, his fated mate, and Ethan, her son from a previous marriage, became the sole focus of his affection. He poured every resource into their comfort and well-being, lavishing them with attention in ways he’d never done for me. Ironically, Ethan wasn’t even his child, yet he was treated as the heir to the pack. Meanwhile, I—his biological daughter and rightful heir—was reduced to nothing more than an afterthought. ... The phone buzzed again. I quickly flipped it over. "If you don’t come back soon, they’ll be mad.” "Okay," I replied briefly, then began packing my bag slowly. After graduation, I found an assistant job at the local university. And today was just another normal school day for me. As I zipped up my bag, the last rays of sunlight slipped away. I lingered for a moment before leaving the classroom, savoring these fleeting moments of freedom before returning home. The journey back home was tiring—two bus stops for the subway, five stops on Line 6, and then two more on Line 3. While the route was tedious, driving would have been quicker, but my father always insisted, "You’ll save the car for your stepbrother. He needs it.” Everything was different for Ethan. He’d never had to squeeze into a crowded bus at 6:30 a.m. He just hopped into the Alpha Max’s Mercedes, arriving at the pack’s headquarters just in time, even if he was late. Meanwhile, I, the true daughter of Alpha Max, had to take the bus and subway every morning, even in the dead of winter. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. I clearly wasn’t considered a true member of the pack. I was just a girl, a product of an unloved marriage. I could never compare with Ethan, the son of my father’s true mate. My earliest memory was reaching out for a hug, only to be pushed away, falling and hitting my head on the corner of a table. The scar on my forehead, a small but deep mark, still sent waves of pain through my chest whenever I touched it. By the time I reached home, it was already 8 p.m. I stepped into the Silver Oak pack’s apartment, my eyes immediately landing on the tall figure by the elevator. Ethan. Over six feet tall with broad shoulders and a white shirt that fit too perfectly, he blocked the doorway like an immovable statue. I couldn’t pinpoint when it started—this habit of lowering my head and avoiding Ethan’s gaze whenever he was near. Today was no different. As I approached him, I kept my eyes down, pretending not to notice him, and silently reached out to press the elevator button beside his arm. "Why are you so late?" he asked, turning to face me. His voice was deep and magnetic—steady, self-assured, with a quiet gentleness that made questioning him feel almost impossible. I hated how effortlessly that confidence radiated from him. No doubt it was the result of my father and Avery’s tireless efforts to shape him into the perfect heir of the Silver Oak Pack. "Do I need to report to you about why I’m late? You’re not my alpha. Move aside," I sneered, irritation flaring. "They’ll be angry if you’re late again," he replied, standing firm as the elevator doors behind him opened. "So what?" I tried to slip past him into the elevator, but his grip tightened on my arm, stopping me. His fingers were surprisingly warm against my skin, and for a brief moment, I hesitated. The familiar twinge of anger sparked within me, "I'm not yours to control," I snapped, meeting his gaze with a defiance I hadn’t felt in weeks. His eyes, a sharp, pale blue, flickered with something unreadable. "Someone has to make sure you don't get yourself into trouble," Ethan said softly, his voice still calm but with an edge that made my chest tighten. He wasn't just trying to control me. He was trying to be kind, and that was something I could never accept from him. "What are you doing, Ethan?" I struggled, but his hold only tightened. "I’m taking you to dinner," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I don’t want to eat. Leave me alone!" I fought back, my arm burning with the pressure of his grip. A red mark began to form where he held me. In a sudden burst of desperation, I lowered my head and sank my teeth into his wrist. Ethan winced but didn’t pull away, waiting until I stopped. A deep bite mark marred his skin, blood pooling around the edges. “Did you use your wolf teeth?” He teased, “For someone who hasn’t shifted, you sure bite like one.” his gaze fixated on the mark, as if he couldn’t tear his eyes away. "Mind your own business!" I glared at the mark, bewildered by the fact that, despite the pain, his grip on my arm never loosened. Ethan didn't say anything more, but I could feel his eyes on me, studying me in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The familiar tension between us—the one that had been growing ever since his mother and he had stepped into our lives—hung in the air like a thick fog. His grip remained firm on my arm, but there was a subtle gentleness underneath it, as though he was afraid to hurt me, afraid I might break. I tried pulling myself from his grip again, but a wolf who hadn’t shifted couldn’t compete with one who had. Ethan had met his wolf at eighteen, and even though I had turned eighteen three years ago, I still hadn’t seen mine.