His Trouble Maker
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
JESSICA
I have a confession to make.
I think the Alpha hates me.
No–despises me. That might be the right term because there is absolutely no logical reason why I am standing here, simply existing, doing nothing, and yet somehow, he still finds a reason to kill me with those goddamn eyes.
Like, come on? Really?
But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my seventeen years within the Blackmoor Pack, it’s that Gray Westwood never stares at me without a reason. Or maybe–just maybe–those eyes were made to fuck me and ruin me all at once.
“Uh–oh,” Logan mutters beside me. “What did you do this time, Jes?”
“What?” I scoff, crossing my arms. “I exist. That’s usually enough.”
Logan hums, eyes flicking toward the other side of the yard. Every pack member is expected to train, to fight, to serve. That’s why after class, we’re mandated to come here.
PO
“Mm. That so? Because Gray Westwood is looking at you like he either wants to fight you or-”
“Or what?”
His grin turns wicked. “Or fuck you against a wall.”
My stomach drops.
“Shut up.” I glare at him. “He hates me.”
“Hates you?” Logan smirks. “Or wants you?”
Oh, gods. Not this again. I roll my eyes, but it doesn’t shake the feeling.
“All that tension? The arguing? The way he watches you like you personally offended his ancestors?”
“Yeah, no. If anything, he
“Okay, but
I cut
head, voice dropping lower, “pinning you against a wall, all muscle and command, those big fucking
a second,” he teases. “Imagine him-” he tilts his head, voice slipping into something dangerous, “pinning you against a
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freeze. My
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stop it, the image forms. Gray pressing me against the cold stone. His body heat licking at my skin. His fingers fisting in
rip the thought away so fast it feels like I’ve been
No. Absolutely not.
head toward Logan, scowling so hard I swear the air should sizzle. “Shut.
my gods, you
shove him.
heat licking up my spine. My skin is too tight, my pulse too wild because of what I freaking imagined. I push my hair behind my ear, letting my lips curl.
“Is that so, Jess?”
silk, sharp as fangs. My lips part, and very slowly, I turn–only
just
Oh, fuck.
enough that I feel his breath on my skin. He leans in, voice low and dangerously amused. “Didn’t think you had a preference, Jess.” His voice is low, casual–dangerously amused. “Beasts over Alphas, huh? That why you’ve been running your mouth
between us. But I can still feel his
I can process it, his hand moves–fast, decisive– his fingers move fast, curling around my wrist
inhale sharply, pulse slamming against my
firm. Hard. My breath catches as I
Moon Goddess.
wrist, like he’s waiting. Watching. Drinking
No. Fuck. No.
my wrist. His own breathing is
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