I Hired A Drifter Who Is The Supreme Alpha

Clara Snyder POV:

My stepsister Jalyn slipped a triple dose of heat inducer into my champagne, then hired thugs to ruin me-all to steal my boyfriend, Ayden, and marry into the Garrison Pack.

My father had an even simpler plan: sell me to a fifty-year-old pervert in the badlands in exchange for investment money.

But none of them had counted on me stumbling into the first unlocked suite at the hotel-and ending up in the bed of a man no one should ever dare to provoke.

The drug had already triggered the Heat-the most primal and agonizing state of physical craving for a werewolf. I braced my trembling palms against the freezing wallpaper of the Grand Ridge Hotel's penthouse corridor, gasping so hard that my vision blurred.

At the end of the hall, a sliver of warm light spilled through a half-open mahogany door. Summoning the last of my strength, I threw myself against the heavy door and stumbled onto the Persian rug inside.

The hinges groaned. In the dim light, the tall figure on the leather sofa went rigid, his muscles tensing like a predator whose territory had been invaded.

I hadn't even seen his face when his scent hit me-winter cedarwood mixed with black pepper. Every werewolf identified others by scent first. The moment his aroma reached me, the last of my rational defenses crumbled.

The instant I breathed him in, my blood seemed to boil backward through my veins. My heart slammed against my ribs, my knees turned to water, and a violent physical surge left me trembling uncontrollably on the floor.

The man slowly rose from the sofa. His leather shoes made no sound on the carpet as he approached, radiating the suffocating dominance of an apex Alpha.

He crouched and gripped my bare shoulder with a broad, calloused palm, pulling me to my feet. The instant our skin touched, a primal electric shock shot straight to my core, forcing a helpless moan from my throat.

For one brief moment, the panic quieted, like a boat that had drifted for ages finally reaching harbor.

My dormant inner wolf-which hadn't awakened since I turned eighteen, earning me the label of a useless Omega in the Snyder Pack-roared inside my mind.

Mine.

All five Mate reactions struck me simultaneously. Every adult werewolf knew exactly what that meant.

The man's breath caught. His scorching thumb brushed over the pulsing vein in my neck, and his voice came out low, hoarse, and terrifyingly dangerous.

"Do you know what it means to break into my room, little wolf?"

I couldn't think. The Heat was driving me mad. Acting on instinct, I scrambled up his broad, rock-hard chest, greedily pressing my feverish cheek against his cool skin to ease the burning.

A low growl rumbled in his throat. He spun me around and pinned me against the freezing floor-to-ceiling window. His powerful arms trapped me like iron bars, leaving me nowhere to escape.

Moonlight broke through the clouds, illuminating his razor-sharp features and icy blue eyes. A barely restrained storm churned in those eyes, along with an absolute, primal possessiveness toward his fated Mate.

With my sanity crushed by the drug and the mate-bond, I rose onto my tiptoes and crashed my lips against his tightly pressed mouth.

The restraint in his eyes shattered instantly. His large hand gripped the back of my head as he took complete control of the kiss, fiercely and relentlessly stealing my breath.

Our clothes were torn off and scattered across the floor as we stumbled toward the king-sized bed. Hours of feverish entanglement followed. Yet even at the height of his frenzy, his sharp canines only grazed my collarbone before stopping short of my nape.

He didn't Mark me-the bite that would permanently fuse our souls and open a two-way mind-link between us.

Dawn broke. I woke aching all over. The stranger was still asleep beside me, and the healed claw scars beneath his left collarbone sent a chill through my chest.

I frantically grabbed my torn dress and pulled it on. If my tyrannical father found out I'd given myself to a nameless rogue, he'd kill me.

The man's dark brows furrowed against the pillow. His sleep-roughened voice came from behind me.

"Don't run. I'll take responsibility for my Mate. We'll register our bond today."

My spine stiffened. Terrified of being used as a bargaining chip by my family, I didn't even dare look back. I yanked open the suite door and fled.

I rushed out of the hotel, hailed a cab, and headed back to the Snyder Manor. Slipping through the side entrance before anyone noticed me, I tiptoed upstairs to the second floor, only to freeze outside the partially closed study door.

Inside, my stepmother Debra swirled a glass of red wine, her voice dripping with malice.

"So that inferior Omega didn't come home last night?"

My stepsister Jalyn let out a shrill laugh.

"I gave her triple the heat inducer and hired a filthy male escort from the slums to wait for her in the back alley."

I clamped a hand over my mouth, digging my fingernails into my palms until the skin broke.

Debra took a smug sip of wine.

"Once her reputation is ruined, your father will have an excuse to sell her off to that old pervert in the badlands in exchange for investment money."

Jalyn tapped her blood-red nails against the desk.

"Once she's damaged goods, Ayden will finally give up on her. The marriage alliance with the Garrison Pack will be mine."

I stood outside the door, hearing every word. Then something inside me finally went quiet.

They thought they'd ruined me last night. They thought I was still that useless Omega who would do nothing but kneel and endure their abuse.

I quietly backed away, climbed into my cramped attic room, and locked the door. I placed a hand over my flat stomach-not out of fear this time, but with a cold, fierce determination.

They wanted to sell me. They wanted to leave me ruined, with nowhere to turn.

I pulled out my phone. Whatever I did next, I would never be their bargaining chip again.