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Claimed By My Bestie's Alpha Daddy

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CHAPTER ONE

Wolfless

Text: Your student loans are about to default.

Text: Your student loans are about to default.

If I miss another payment, I lose my spot at The University.

But every single job interview I go in for, the interviewer just snaps, "How did this Wolfless even get past security?"

That one word—wolfless—undoes everything else. It shows up on my CV and suddenly my entire application is invisible.

Jenny, my best friend and the Alpha King's daughter, invited me to work as a server at the mating ball after she heard about my situation.

When I took the job, Jenny had grinned and said, “Most of the unmated Alpha heirs are coming tonight—you never know, maybe you’ll meet someone.”

But we both knew it was just a joke—I was already mated.

So here I am, in this fancy ballroom, carefully laying out the overpriced desserts Jenny ordered from her private pastry chef onto the dining table, just like I was assigned to do.

And just then, Jenny made her entrance—sweeping into the ballroom in a red evening gown. Within seconds, guests were drifting toward her like she had her own gravitational pull. She greeted each of them with that sugar-sweet smile she’d perfected ages ago, even if she forgot their name the second they walked away.

It’s still kind of wild that we ended up friends, though I guess that was due to us being classmates.

I didn't want to interrupt Jenny, so I decided to head to the kitchen to help out instead.

But then Jenny called out to me—clear and bright, like she wanted people to hear—and instantly, heads turned. All at once, the room seemed to freeze. A wolfless girl, in a server's uniform, getting called over by the Alpha King's daughter? You could feel the confusion ripple across the crowd. People stared. Whispered. Some barely masked their surprise.

I wasn't surprised, I was almost used to it by now.

But Jenny didn’t seem to care—and that meant more to me than I expected. She took my hand and pulled me aside to talk.

"Can you believe Stacy actually came up to me and tried to start a conversation? Like everything’s fine? Unreal."

I was a little thrown—wasn’t she just chatting with Stacy like everything was fine? But then Jenny clarified, and suddenly it made more sense.

"Do you know what she did last time? She actually asked me for my dad’s phone number! Her Alpha father’s pack is tiny, and she thinks she could become my new stepmother?"

"But come on, King Richard's been divorced and single for years—can you really blame Stacy? I mean, he just got voted Sexiest Alpha again, didn’t he?"

Jenny’s smile faded instantly. She wasn’t just venting—she wanted backup. She wanted me to hate Stacy too, to treat her like some mutual enemy just because Jenny did.

"What do you mean by that? Do you think my dad should be with Stacy? He’s single because he’s still in love with my mom! I’ve told you, I am not letting any of my friends get involved with my dad!"

I was very familiar with Jenny's intense "protectiveness" over King Richard. She once had a very close friend who tried to flirt with Richard, and when Jenny found out, she immediately cut all ties with her.

I mean I totally get why that would bother her, but if you’ve seen Richard, you’d understand why those crazy girls act the way they do. He’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.

"I mean, you can’t really stop girls from daydreaming, right? Every she-wolf’s probably jealous of whoever ends up Luna queen." I said it casually, hoping she’d take it as a joke.

Any woman who becomes Richard’s Luna would be envied by everyone. But obviously, it could never be someone like me.

Sure enough, Jenny’s attention shifted. She said, "I really envy you—you found your mate right at eighteen. And a Beta, too. His pack might not be big, but for someone without a wolf, that’s kind of a big deal."

Her words sat uncomfortably with me. Did she really think being wolfless made someone less? The thought stung, but I didn’t say anything.

Jenny, clearly curious, continued, “So how are things between you two?”

I sighed, a little disappointed. “He hasn’t replied to my messages in a while. I guess he’s just too busy with his new job.”

To my surprise, Jenny actually looked kind of pleased, “Is that so? Well, I mean... you can’t really blame him.”

For a second, it felt like Jenny was actually enjoying my awkward situation—but I shook the thought off. Maybe I was just reading too much into it.

As two she-wolves passed by, I caught them whispering about a "handsome young man." They didn’t say who, but something in their tone piqued my curiosity. I found myself turning to look.

That’s when I saw him.

Adam.

My mate. A boy from my college, tied to me by the bond—we shared a wonderful time together, and I worked so hard just to be someone who could stand beside him.

My heart swelled at first. He looked incredible. Black suit, perfectly tailored. Polished shoes. Collar sharp enough to cut glass.

But then my heart caught in my chest. I hadn’t told him I’d be here. And yet, there he was—perfect suit, perfect posture, at the center of everything I didn’t belong to. Adam couldn’t even reply to a message, but he found the time to dress up and show up for a mating ball?

“I thought you weren’t replying because you were busy,” I said, stepping forward. “What are you doing here?”

He looked surprised at first, but it disappeared almost instantly. His expression cooled. “Just... here with friends.”

I looked into his face, searching for something—recognition, care, anything—but he wasn’t looking at me anymore. He was looking past me.

And maybe it was just my imagination, but he, once again, deliberately put space between us, as if he didn’t want anyone to see us together even though we were fated mates.

“Surprise!” Jenny chirped, looping her arm through mine. “My Valentine’s gift to you!”

Right…I almost forgot—it was Valentine’s Day.

Still, something didn’t sit right. He reached out to Jenny—but couldn’t be bothered to answer even one of my messages? I couldn’t help but wonder if he was ever really here for me at all.

I blinked at her, then at him. The red of her dress. The red of his tie. Her hair curled, her makeup perfect. They looked... coordinated.

And I looked like I’d wandered in from the kitchen.

Jenny’s eyes flicked down and found the stain on my shirt. I saw her notice—just for a second—before she covered it with the same tight, generous smile I’d seen earlier that day, when she handed me the uniform.

“You’ve worked hard,” she said, like a compliment, like it wasn’t also a reminder. “I’ve got a spare dress upstairs—go change and join us!”

Maybe the dress would be beautiful. Maybe it would make me look like I belonged here. But I couldn’t stop thinking about how I ended up in this shirt in the first place.

Jenny always had a way of making it sound like a favor.

I nodded and followed her instructions.

The second-floor hallway was quieter than the rest of the house. The room she sent me to was still lavish, but in a completely different way. Gone were the jewel-toned silks and eye-catching flourishes Jenny loved to flaunt downstairs. Instead, the space was layered in gold wallpaper, soft-toned furnishings, and delicate lace curtains. It exuded a calm, confident elegance—understated but undeniably expensive. The bed alone probably cost more than my student loans.

This wasn’t Jenny’s style. Not even close. There was something almost unsettling in how different it felt—more mature, more grounded, like the person who put this room together actually cared about balance and atmosphere.

I lingered in the doorway for a second, taking it all in. A glittering chandelier overhead, the soft hum of distant music from downstairs, the faint scent of sandalwood clinging to the room like a memory. None of this felt like mine.

I stepped inside and let the door click shut behind me.

There was a suitcase at the foot of the bed, half-unzipped. Button-up shirts stacked inside—crisp, immaculately pressed, and definitely not Jenny’s.

I hesitated. Her room? Maybe not. But the dress was right there, hanging neatly on the back of a chair.

I took one step, then another.

Then the bathroom door swung open.

Steam rushed out into the room, thick and hot and immediate. The temperature jumped several degrees. The scent hit next—cedar and skin and something faintly metallic, like heat over stone. I could hear the water still dripping. I could almost taste the steam in the air, dense and clinging.

For a moment, everything blurred, then the haze started to clear, and I saw him.

The last thing I expected to see. A half-naked man, wrapped in nothing but a towel, with the most defined muscles I’d ever seen.

It was Richard. King Richard.

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CHAPTER TWO

A Private Encounter

The instinct to scream was there—lodged somewhere behind my teeth—but it was like the rest of me had short-circuited. Every reflex froze.

His muscles were carved, like someone had sculpted them out of stone and left them slick and glistening. Defined forearms, taut stomach, the faint dip between his hipbones where the crisp, white towel began. But it was his hands—veined, precise, impossibly strong-looking—that held me hostage.

Water dripped from his jaw, trailing down his chest. I followed the drops—over his pecs, down the ridges of his abs—until they disappeared into the soft white terrycloth. I could feel the heat crawling up my neck, into my cheeks.

"Think you’ve seen enough now?"

My head snapped up. My body reengaged. And then—oh no.

Oh god, it was Richard. King Richard. My best friend’s father.

Gorgeous, aloof, incredibly off-limits, Richard.

He scowled. "How the hell did you get in here? This is a private room."

I could tell he didn’t recognize me, which disappointed me somehow.

I opened my mouth but no sound came out. I met Richards sharp, questioning eyes, the shame of being caught like that, of having just ogled the King of the Werewolf Kingdom, hit me all at once. I fumbled for something—anything—to say, but he was already looking me up and down.

His eyes landed on my stained uniform. I wanted to disappear into the floor.

I hated that this was how he was seeing me—creased shirt, smudged apron, cheap fabric clinging in all the wrong ways. I hated the way I looked even more under the weight of that stare. It wasn’t just that I felt small—it was that I felt disposable. Like background noise. Like someone he’d forget existed the second he walked away. And the worst part? He wouldn’t be wrong.

Not even when Adam had seen me like this—sweaty, tired, underdressed—had I felt this exposed. With Adam, I’d felt like I could brush it off. With Richard, I couldn’t even breathe.

"Don’t tell me you’re the maid service that I didn’t order," he said flatly. "Coming in here to clean up? I’ve had enough of these tricks."

Tricks?

"I—I’m not—" I stammered, my throat dry. "Jenny told me to come here. She said I could change in this room. I didn’t know anyone would be in here. I swear."

He didn’t respond right away. Just stared, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The weight of his gaze made my skin prickle.

"And you didn’t think to knock?"

"I thought it would be empty," I blurted. "I didn’t even think—God, I wouldn’t just walk in if I knew—"

He stepped forward and it was like being hit with a wave.

Patchouli. Peppermint. Clean skin and heat and power.

I swayed slightly under the weight of it all. My body wasn’t listening to me. My mind was struggling to form coherent thought.

Not that it ever had, not around him.

Ever since I was fifteen and saw him for the first time in person I hadn’t been able to look him in the eye. Not for more than a second.He’d been handsome then, intimidating in that distant, untouchable way. But now? He was older, sharper, more carved from stone than flesh. He carried a kind of gravity that made everything inside me tilt.

Not even Adam made me feel that way.

I looked down, away from his eyes. "J-Jenny," I stammered. "She sent me up here to change. For the Ball. She didn’t say anyone else would be... here."

He tilted his head slightly, those steel-blue eyes narrowing.

"Jenny? Changing clothes?" He took a breath, then nodded slowly, the barest shift in his expression softening his scowl into something closer to amusement. "You better not be lying."

Then, with a flick of his fingers, he gestured toward the closet. "Get changed. You’ve got two minutes."

He disappeared back into the bathroom and I exhaled for what felt like the first time.

The dress Jenny had left was easy enough to find. Blue satin, elegant but clingy. It slipped over my hips with ease, cool against my skin, whispering promises I wasn’t sure I wanted kept. I tugged it into place and reached around to zip the back—

Stuck.

I twisted, pulled, tried again. Nothing.

Too tight in the bust. Of course.

I glanced at myself in the mirror and flinched. The dress clung in ways that didn’t feel like flattery. My arms looked soft. My stomach had lines I didn’t want to see. My makeup was melting. My hair—ugh, the humidity had ruined it hours ago. The old uniform I’d been wearing was still lying in a heap on the floor, and for a second I actually missed it. At least that shirt had felt like armor. This dress felt like a dare.

I left my phone downstairs. My zipper was jammed. And now I was standing here, half-dressed, red-faced, and utterly failing to disappear into the wallpaper.

That’s when the bathroom door swung back open. I took one step back, then another, as he stepped out of the bathroom.

Steam drifted into the bedroom as he emerged—dressed now, but somehow even more dangerous like this. His white shirt clung slightly to his chest from the residual dampness. The scent of him hit me again, stronger than before. I could almost taste it—peppermint and something wilder, something that buzzed at the base of my skull.

He stopped a few feet away, his eyes locking onto mine, then trailing lower. I tried to speak but the words wouldn’t form.

"Do you think you could, uh—" I cleared my throat, gesturing weakly behind me. "Could you help me with the zipper?"

He nodded once and stepped forward. Every movement was measured, intentional. He circled behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him.

His fingers brushed my lower back and then paused.

I stiffened, he hesitated, and then I remembered. The mark.

The neckline of the dress dipped low. Too low. It revealed the faint crescent scar just beneath my collarbone—the bond mark that tied me to Adam.

I felt, more than saw, the change in Richard. His voice dropped to a murmur. "You already have a mate?"

I turned slightly, just enough to glimpse his expression.

Confused. Tense. Like something was clicking into place he hadn’t expected.

Why was he asking that? Did he know something I didn’t? Was that disappointment?

His jaw worked, like he was biting back a thousand words. But none of them came.

Instead, he reached for the zipper again, more gently this time. The back of his hand brushed my spine. My breath hitched.

A memory struck me then. Not a huge one—just a flicker. The first time Adam had kissed me. We’d been lying under the bleachers after some school event, and he’d reached over and touched my hair and said something sweet and awkward. His hand wandered toward my spine as our lips met. When he kissed me, I remembered thinking it was... nice. Familiar. Comfortable.

This wasn’t that.This was nothing like that.

His fingers tugged the zipper again. The satin shifted and tightened against my chest. My skin felt too hot, too bare.

Still stuck.

His hand came to rest on my waist for balance. I could feel every one of his fingers, steady and warm through the thin fabric.

He leaned in and his breath traced the edge of my neck.

"Now," he said, voice like velvet wrapped in something sharper, "I’m going to give you one more chance. Are you sure my daughter sent you in here with this dress?"

I thought I might melt. Or faint. Or combust. My knees buckled.

His arm caught me, again—strong and sure.

I pressed my hands against his chest to steady myself. Too late. I was already dizzy.

That’s when we heard it.

"Girl, what is taking so long to get changed?"

Jenny.

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