The Alpha's Forsaken Mate
[Trigger Warning: Mature Content]
They say the Silvermoonlight Masquerade changes fates.
It did for Lydia Ashford too, but she lost more than she gained.
In a world where strength defines worth, she was wolfless, but she refused to be weak. With beauty that shimmered like stardust in the midnight sky and a mind as sharp as a dagger, Lydia was a name spoken with both awe and envy. But admiration was never enough. She forged her own path, honing her combat skills, proving her intelligence, and standing beside Theodore Sinclair, the Alpha’s son, through every challenge. If she could not shift, she would rise in every other way.
The Masquerade should have been another step toward securing her future.
Yet fate had other plans.
One sip of wine. One moment of weakness. One stranger’s touch.
And everything she built turned to ash.
The man she trusted turned his back on her. The pack that once praised her cast her aside. And the child growing inside her became her only reason to survive.
Banished. Forgotten. A name only whispered in shame.
Yet, Lydia did not break, she endured.
Five years later, she returns—not as the girl they discarded, but as a woman ready to reclaim her life. But fate is not done with her.
Because the man who marked her as his? The one who unknowingly fathered her child?
He’s standing right in front of her.
And this time, he’s not letting her go.
......
The glass hovered near her lips.
"Drink," Nickolas commanded, his voice rough with hunger.
Lydia obeyed, parting her lips as the rich, red liquid flowed onto her tongue. But before she could swallow, his mouth was on hers—hot, demanding, merciless.
The wine spilled between them, sliding over her lips, down her chin. But he didn’t stop. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping inside, stealing the taste straight from her mouth, devouring every shaky breath she tried to take.
By the time he pulled away, she was trembling.
His fingers tilted the glass. A slow trickle of wine spilled onto her collarbone, rolling between her breasts, gliding down her stomach.
The moment the first drop touched her skin, his mouth followed.
His lips grazed the delicate curve of her neck before he dragged his tongue along the slick trail of wine, chasing every drop as it slipped between her breasts.
His teeth scraped her skin, and before she could react, he latched onto her, sucking deep, his tongue flicking and teasing before his mouth sealed around her hardened peak.
Lydia arched beneath him, her hands fisting into the sheets as heat coiled low in her stomach.
"Nickolas," she gasped, her voice breathless, desperate.
He groaned against her skin, his grip tightening on her waist as he sucked harder, the wet heat of his mouth sending pleasure pulsing through her veins. He alternated between sharp, aching nips and long, slow strokes of his tongue, drawing soft moans from her lips.
"Messy," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he pulled back just enough to watch her squirm beneath him. His fingers traced the path the wine had taken, slow, possessive.
Then his lips brushed lower, over her navel, his breath a sinful caress against her heated skin.
He smirked against her. "I thought your laughter was the most beautiful sound to my ears…" His fingers slid between her thighs, teasing, coaxing, pushing her to the edge without giving her what she needed.
Then, with a slow, deliberate bite against her inner thigh, he whispered, "Until I heard your moans."
A sharp gasp escaped her lips as he kissed her again, his hands gripping her hips, holding her right where he wanted.
"Nickolas," she whimpered.
He chuckled darkly, his lips trailing back up her body, lingering at her throat before he spoke against her ear. "I could get drunk off you."
Lydia swallowed, her body burning, her thoughts unraveling.
But deep down, she already knew—she was the one drowning.
