His Contract Luna: The Alpha King's Wolfless Bride

Hadley Burns POV:

I pushed open the heavy VIP lounge door at the Glover Pack club, and a blast of heavy metal music mixed with thick cigar smoke made me hold my breath.

Through the dim lights, I looked for Jackson Glover, the Alpha heir I had followed and loved for ten years, until his arrogant voice drifted from behind a glass screen.

"Hadley? She's just a Wolfless without an inner wolf," Jackson laughed, his tone dripping with mockery.

"Right, how could a genetic defect like her ever birth strong pups for a pureblood Alpha?" Axel Sterling, his loyal follower, chimed in immediately.

Their words hit me like a bucket of ice water poured straight over my head, freezing me to the bone. I stood frozen, the paint-stained calluses on my right index and middle fingers digging hard into the wooden doorframe to keep my knees from buckling. In our society, being born Wolfless meant a permanent genetic defect-I could never shift, never use the Mind-Link, and never feel the Moon Goddess's mate pull.

Jackson poured himself a glass of whiskey, the ice clinking coldly. "I only keep an orphan like her around because she's obedient. The Glover Pack doesn't need a useless Luna."

Ten years of humble devotion turned into a suffocating chill in my chest. I bit my lower lip until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, then forced my stiff legs to turn and walk away from that disgusting room.

I stumbled down the velvet-lined corridor, tears blurring my vision as the word "defect" echoed endlessly in my ears.

Reaching the noisy first-floor bar, I slammed my last few large bills onto the counter. "Give me your strongest tequila," I rasped to the bartender.

Werewolves had fast metabolisms that burned through regular alcohol in minutes, so only high-proof liquor sold in pack clubs could numb the nerves. I downed four shots in a row. The fiery liquid burned down my throat, and the room finally spun as my stomach churned violently.

Shoving aside a drunken warrior who tried to grab my arm, I staggered toward the heavy fire exit at the back of the club, desperate for fresh air.

I pushed the iron door open into the dark alley. Freezing rain whipped against my burning cheeks, and my legs gave out completely, sending me falling forward toward the wet concrete.

Instead of hitting the ground, I crashed into a broad, rock-hard chest radiating scorching heat.

An aggressive scent of crisp cedar and dark night storms wrapped around me instantly. It was the pure Dominion of a top-tier Alpha, so heavy it made my spine tremble by instinct.

I tried to pull back, but a large, muscular hand wearing a cold silver suppressor cuff gripped my waist, his palm burning through my thin dress.

Blinking through my drunken haze, I looked up into deep gray-blue eyes that glowed with a faint, dangerous dark gold under the streetlight.

The man stared down at me, his sharp jaw clenched tight. His Adam's apple bobbed hard in the dim light, looking as if he were fighting back a terrifying, primal instinct.

The tequila had burned away my sanity. Staring at his rolling throat, I rose onto my tiptoes and bit down hard right on his Adam's apple.

His tall body stiffened like iron, and a low, beastly groan rumbled straight from his chest against my ribs.

A violent jolt of electricity shot from where my teeth met his skin straight to my toes. My blood boiled, leaving my fingertips numb and tingling.

He didn't throw me off. Instead, his arm tightened around my waist, pressing me closer against his heat as his voice dropped to a terrifyingly hoarse whisper.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing, Little Hadley?"

That familiar nickname made my eyelids flutter. A strange sense of absolute safety washed over me, and I blacked out completely.

Hours later, I vaguely felt myself being lifted into a warm space filled with cedar scent, the sound of tires rolling over puddles lulling me into a deep sleep where a giant black Dire Wolf shielded me beneath its belly.

The next morning, bright sunlight pierced through the floor-to-ceiling curtains, stinging my eyes.

Groaning, I held my splitting head and sat up. A silky Egyptian cotton duvet slid off my shoulders, revealing a bed the size of a basketball court and a room completely free of Glover Pack scents.

Panic hit me as I looked down and saw I was wearing an oversized men's black silk shirt.

The running water in the adjoining bathroom stopped abruptly. The frosted glass door swung open, and a tall man walked out, toweling his wet, jet-black hair.

My breath caught in my throat when I saw his face. It was Bennet Richardson-the supreme Alpha King of the Richardson Pack and the billionaire CEO who ruled the city's werewolf empire.

Water droplets slid down the hard muscles of his bare chest as he walked toward the bed with suffocating pressure.

I scrambled backward against the headboard, clutching the quilt with white knuckles and puffing out my cheeks to hide my terror.

He stopped right beside the mattress and leaned down, locking his icy gray-blue eyes on mine.

His long index finger tapped the bright red, bruised bite mark on his Adam's apple.

"Awake?" he drawled, his voice lazy yet carrying an undeniable Alpha command. "Let's talk about how you're going to compensate me."