Camilla
I can’t rember the last ti I felt this powerful. This alive.
The day I t Damien, my entire world collapsed with a single sentence: "Now, you’ll finally learn what it ans to stand behind a powerful Alpha."
Even then, his words enraged . I was a powerful Alpha. I didn’t need to stand behind anyone—least of all him.If anything, he should have stood behind .
Because without , Damien was nothing. Without , he had nothing. Nothing but that cursed dick that was always itching to crawl back into his favorite whore’s bed.
And yet—he still managed to take everything from .My pack.My people.My wealth.My pride.
But now...Now I’m going to take it all back.
"Edwina Carter..."The na still tastes unfamiliar on my tongue, though I’ve been repeating it like a prayer for days.
Leader of the werecats. A huntress. A warrior.Respected by many females across our kingdom.
Well—"respected" might be a stretch. Edwina is cunning, sharp, and bound by the scars of her tribe’s past. She doesn’t choose sides based on morals or loyalty—only strength.Or, more accurately, whoever makes the better offer.
Fortunately, I doubt anyone has a better offer than I do. At least, not right now.
Because in these tis—when the number of female mates continues to drop with every passing month—any tribe made up predominantly of won would be foolish to throw their lot in with the male-dominated wolf packs.
"Luna?" The sound of a pleasant male voice slices through the haze of my thoughts, pulling back into the present.
A soft smile tugs at the corners of my lips almost instinctively as I turn to see the man leaning casually against my doorfra. Now this—this is the kind of man I want by my side.And behind .And on top of , if we’re being honest.
"Co in," I murmur, gesturing toward the chair behind my desk. "And lock the door."
He obeys with a quiet smirk, turning the key with a subtle click before approaching like a predator closing in on its prey.Only in this arrangent... the real predator is .
Arthur is an oga. An orphan who once belonged to my pack before my marriage changed everything. To the rest of the world, he’s just another servant—one who runs errands for and the gammas.But to ?
To , he is so much more.
Arthur is everything Damien never was. Despite his powerful physique and sharp features, there’s sothing soft about him. Sothing tender.He is gentle. Attentive. Devoted.Obedient.
Yes, that last part matters more than I care to admit. Arthur listens. He follows every word I say as if it were scripture. Never questions. Never hesitates.
But what I treasure most about him... is his obsession with .
It’s unsettling in the best way—dark, unfiltered, and almost childishly pure, like he’s blindfolded by adoration. Oblivious to how deeply it’s damaging him. How far it’s already gone.
But he doesn’t care.And neither do I.
"What’s this?" Arthur’s curious voice breaks through the charged atmosphere as he plucks a glossy envelope from the desk, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief.
I snatch it from between his fingers, even as I slide onto his lap with practiced ease.
"An invitation," I say, flashing a satisfied smile as I turn the envelope over in my hand. "To a VIP resort in Dawn Springs."
"How decadent," he murmurs, trapping the envelope between his teeth before spitting it back onto the desk with a playful flick. "Who’s going?"
I flash him another grin, letting my hands slowly trail across his broad shoulders, gliding over the firm planes of his chest and down to the ridges of his abs. I stop just at the buckle of his jeans, letting my fingers hover there.
"... and a few other ladies," I purr.
I feel the heat radiating off his skin as my fingers toy with his belt, then slip lower to tease the zipper. He’s straining against the fabric already, but I have no intention of giving him what he wants—not just yet. I’m in too good of a mood. Today, I want to see him beg.
"What’s the occasion?"
His breath is ragged, the words barely escaping his throat as my fingers graze over the bulge in his jeans, featherlight and maddening.
"Just a business eting," I say sweetly, almost in song, my gaze locked on the flush creeping up his cheeks. Goddess, he looks divine when he’s this desperate.
"What kind of business... could you possibly discuss... in a place like that?"
I nearly laugh—he’s so damn cute when he’s struggling. Still, I try to be good to him.
"Why do you care?" I tease him further, my right hand continuing to stroke his cock while my left gently tangles in the softness of his curly hair. "Or are you jealous you’re not invited?"
Arthur bites his lower lip, his gaze flicking down to his crotch again and again, need etched plainly across his beautiful face—his eyes begging, More.
"N-No," he breathes, swallowing another moan. And for so reason, that’s all it takes. I lose the last shred of restraint.
Possessed by a hunger I can no longer ignore, I rip my panties off beneath my skirt and slide down onto his cock in one swift motion. I gasp, breath caught in my throat as his thick length fills effortlessly—so easily it’s almost embarrassing.
He exhales sharply, a sound of pure relief, and grabs my hips instinctively, ready to guide . But I shoot him a warning look, and he freezes like a scolded puppy.
Goddess, his obedience is maddeningly hot. I can feel myself trembling, brimming with power and pleasure.
"Don’t worry," I purr into his ear, grazing my teeth over his lobe. "Once I’m done with this so-called ’business,’ you’ll feel like you’re living at a VIP resort every damn day of your life."
He smiles—so innocently, so trustingly—that it nearly makes laugh. Instead, I wrap my fingers around his throat and begin to move.
Slowly. Deliberately. Torturously.
I grind against him on my terms—sotis drawing all the way back, sotis stopping halfway to feel him twitch inside . I ride him the way I want, shifting pace as I please.
Because this is what I’ve always craved: to do whatever the hell I want—with no one to ta .
From now on, no man will ever fuck up again.
From now on, I’m the one doing all the fucking.
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