Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother

13 Chapter 13

Seraphina’s POV 1

My instinct was to refuse immediately. “I don’t have an appropriate dress for-”

“What you’re wearing now is perfect.” Damien’s voice carried that infuriatingly confident tone that made my stomach do gymnastics

routines I didn’t authorize. The way he said it-like he was commenting on the weather rather than completely upending my evening

plans-made me want to simultaneously kiss him and throttle him.

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it, then opened it again like some kind of demented fish. “But I… Adrian needs… Ophelia will kill

me if 1…”

“Speechless omega?” One dark eyebrow arched in what I was beginning to recognize as his signature look of amused superiority. “That’s

a first.”

The smugness in his voice snapped me back to coherent thought. “Fine,” I said, trying to inject some dignity into what was clearly a

complete surrender. “But I’m not paying for dry cleaning if someone spills wine on this dress.””

The corner of his mouth twitched-not quite a smile, but close enough to make my traitorous heart do a little tap dance. “Noted. I protect what’s mine,” he said simply, and the possessive note in his voice made my knees wobble like a newborn deer’s.

The casual threat, delivered in that low, dangerous voice, made heat pool in places that had no business responding during work hours

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of focused intensity that felt like being caught in a very attractive, very expensive tornado.

Despite the mate bond crackling between us like a live electrical wire, Damien and I fell into a surprisingly natural rhythm. He was

demanding but fair, brilliant but not condescending, and when I anticipated his needs-sliding the northern territory reports across his

desk just as he reached for them—he looked at me like I’d just performed actual magic.

Meanwhile, Ayla had been a constant source of commentary all day, providing a running narration like the world’s most inappropriate

purr when Damien moved past my desk. *Did you see the

that file? And that smell-God, that SMELL. It’s like sandalwood and testosterone had a baby and named

Perfect Man.*

lustful commentary?” I muttered under my breath during

do to our

saying, those hands look very

“AYLA.”

the time evening approached, I was wound tighter than a Swiss

as shifted in his chair, I could feel it like a physical touch. When he spoke, his

bond thing was going to be the death

one particularly intense wave of mate-hunger, pressing my thighs together

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pooled low

room to touch up my makeup and attempt to calm my racing pulse. The emerald dress still looked stunning, but now I could see the flush on my cheeks, the dilated pupils that betrayed exactly how affected I was by

fabric molding to his broad shoulders and lean torso in ways that should be illegal. When he offered me his arm with old-fashioned gallantry, the simple gesture

in his voice-softer

a gasp as electricity shot through me at the contact. His muscles were like steel beneath the expensive fabric, and I had to resist the urge to run my fingers along the

warmth.

ever be,” I managed, hoping my voice sounded steadier than

education. As he held the passenger door open for me, I caught another intoxicating whiff of his

rest on the small of my back to steady me. The simple touch sent fire racing through my veins, and I had to bite my

curiosity that hadn’t

your son.”

heart stuttered, then

I asked carefully, studying his profile in the dim light

there was something in his tone-not judgment or

warmth.

unable to keep the fierce love from my

sound that made warmth spread through my chest. “Sounds like

still in

physical blow, all the warmth draining from my chest in an instant. I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past as I tried to find words that wouldn’t make me sound

his father is,” I said