Luring My Alpha Stepbrother

The Plea In His Eyes

Alissa's POV

I turned on the faucet, gulping down water in large, desperate mouthfuls. It took half a bottle of mouthwash before I felt even remotely cleansed, as though I’d rinsed away the lingering taste of Ethan’s kiss.

When I finally lifted my head to face the mirror, my reflection startled me. My lips, tender and flushed, now glowed with a deeper color. My fair shoulder bore faint red marks, the ghost of Ethan’s grip. The marks weren’t deep, but they burned in my mind like a brand, forcing me to relive the heated scene that had just unfolded in this bathroom.

Closing my eyes, I splashed cold water onto my face, hoping to erase the memory. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, it grew sharper. The sensations replayed in vivid, excruciating detail—the rough brush of his d**k against my palm, the way its hardened length parted my fingers, the heated seeds spilling into my hands.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. In my mind, I was meant to have the upper hand—while Ethan, passive, enduring. Yet somewhere along the line, the dynamic had flipped. Ethan got the upper hand instead, pulling me and consuming me. When had this happened?

Deep down, I knew the answer. It started the moment I faltered. Ethan was like a predator, sharp-eyed and patient, waiting for the precise moment when I let my guard down. The second he sensed vulnerability, he struck without hesitation, turning the tables in his favor.

Frustration boiled over, and I lashed out, kicking a nearby bucket. How could I have been so naive, so foolish, to think Ethan could be bound by morality?

After cleaning myself up, I stepped out of the bathroom. The hallway was dark and silent, and I assumed Ethan had retreated to his room. After something like that, everyone would want to hide until the tension eased.

But when I opened the door to my room, my breath caught. There he was, sitting on my bed, casually flipping through a book I’d left on the nightstand.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Waiting for you,” Ethan replied, his voice calm, almost amused, as though he were discussing the weather. His long fingers turned a page with unhurried precision.

I pressed my back against the door, keeping it ajar as I regarded him warily. “Waiting for what? Shouldn’t you be in your own room?”

At my words, his hand froze mid-turn, and he gripped the page tightly enough to wrinkle its corner. “Are you seriously going to pretend nothing happened between us?”

I didn’t respond, but my silence spoke volumes. Ethan’s gaze darkened.

“Are you regretting it?” he asked, his voice low and charged.

“Yes,” I admitted, forcing the words out. “I regret it. I thought I was helping you—”

“You don’t get to regret it,” Ethan cut me off, his tone sharp. “You have no idea what you did back there.”

His posture, once casual, grew tense as he tossed the book aside and leaned forward, clasping his hands tightly. His lips twisted into a half-smile, though his eyes held no humor. “You crossed a line, Alissa. And now, you’ll face the consequences. My dear stepsister.”

The word stepsister sounded foreign, almost mocking. Ethan rarely called me that. As kids, he’d refused to address me that way, no matter how much others teased him about it.

Memories stirred, unwelcome and sharp. Ethan had been an unpredictable, sullen boy before he turned eighteen. Our rooms had been side by side because Max expected us to be closer.

But at the end of the day, we were not close for a second. He never treated me like family. And I hated him like he was the worst in this world.

I remember the first time my father tasked me with watching over Ethan. I’d been young, and my resentment towards this new addition to my pack ran deep. One day, I left him in a decrepit factory on the outskirts of town and walked away, hoping he’d get lost.

I couldn’t recall how he was found or the punishment I received, but I remembered my feelings—bitter, seething hatred. And I thought Ethan hated me just as much.

Yet here he was, sitting on my bed, his gaze burning with something I couldn’t place. Was it affection? Obsession? Or was it just the s****l fantasy of a teenage werewolf craving forbidden?

I leaned against the door frame, crossing my arms as I shoved the memories aside. Then, as if making a decision I hadn’t expected, I met his gaze with a mocking smile, “Let’s make a deal then.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow, his tense expression easing slightly. “What kind of deal?”

“I’ll let you fu*k me,” I said evenly, watching his face shift. “But you’ll have to compensate me for it.”

Ethan shot to his feet, the fire in his eyes blazing like it could burn me to ash. He strode toward me, his towering presence seemed too suffocating. “Say that again!”

I remained unmoved by his outburst. Calmly, I reached out, wrapping my arms around his neck. My smile didn’t waver as I delivered the final blow to his composure.

“I said, if you want to fu*k me, I’ll let you—but only if you compensate me.”

Ethan pushed my arms away, his grip tightening on my chin as his voice dropped, cold and furious. “Do you have to degrade yourself like this?”

I tilted my head, letting his hand force me to meet his gaze. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Wasn’t it you who degraded me first?” My lashes fluttered, shielding the calm hidden beneath the surface.

Ethan released me, startled. The anger in his eyes dimmed, replaced by guilt and a raw, unspoken pain.

Silence fell, broken only by the ticking clock. The yellow light in the room cast our shadows long and thin against the wall.

“Why did you come to me?” His voice was hoarse, thick with bitterness, “If only you hadn’t made the first move, everything could have stayed buried.”

“Because I was curious,” I said after a moment.

“Curious about what?”

“Curious if you liked me. If you want me.”

“I do,” Ethan admitted, his voice simple and direct. “I like you. I want you.”

His honesty caught me off guard, and for a fleeting moment, I saw the plea in his eyes. He was waiting for my response, clinging to the hope that I might offer him something—anything. The moment he asked that question, his expectations had already taken root in his pleading eyes.

But I said nothing. The silence returned, heavier this time.

Ethan’s shoulders slumped as if the weight of defeat had finally crushed him. He let out a shaky breath and forced a faint, broken smile. “I’m sorry.”

The unexpected apology lingered in the air, feeling strange and out of place. In his clear, bright eyes, I saw a flicker of loss and pain. For the first time, Ethan looked… defeated.

This was a werewolf, the future Alpha, who had always been the pride in others' eyes, envied by all of his peers. Everything he wanted would be handed to him on a silver plate effortlessly. Even among the entire pack, his handsome and striking face would always stand out.

He was like a star.

Yet here he was, a star bowing to me, as though I was something precious and forever out of his reach.

For the first time, I realized I was someone’s exception too. Someone wanted me so desperately that losing me would break him.

I took a deep breath and turned away from his burning gaze. “It’s late. I’m going to bed.”

Ethan obediently stepped back, opening the door. Just as I was about to close it, he hesitated. “Do you need anything?” he asked, his voice low.

“What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes cast downward. “You said you wanted compensation. If you need money… or anything else, just tell me. Don’t say things like that again.”

I was slightly taken aback. "I’ll let you know if I think of anything," I murmured before shutting the door.

The room plunged into darkness and quietness again, leaving only for the faint moonlight spilling across the floor.

“Goodnight, Alissa,” Ethan whispered from the other side of the door.