Chapter 2: The Bite That Breaks Bloodlines

I shot him a cold look. My stomach twisted.

He met my gaze, unflinching. I wanted to punch him. Or maybe just walk away. Never look back.

Ever since I could remember, Chase has always had a weird streak. Honestly, I stopped trying to read him a long time ago.

He was the kind of guy who’d charm your mom at Thanksgiving, then ignore your texts for weeks.

At twenty, Chase shifted. S-tier alpha. Of course.

The day he shifted, the whole town talked. I watched from the sidelines. Clapped along. Felt smaller than ever.

Old Man Whitaker was so thrilled, he threw a barbecue for three days straight. He only came back a month ago. Loaded with medals.

The barbecue was legendary—half the county showed up. When Chase left, the house felt empty for weeks. Not that I’d admit it.

Rumor had it he took down the ringleader. I never asked.

I heard the stories at the VFW, over cheap beer and greasy fries. I just nodded and kept my mouth shut.

He stopped calling me bro. Started using my rank. Hurt more than I’d admit.

It stung, more than I’d admit. I tried to brush it off. Stuck to me like burrs.

Talk about pulling rank. Figures.

The kind of thing you joke about in the barracks, but it’s different when it’s your own brother. Or whatever we were now.

And now, this bastard actually wants to mark me? Unbelievable.

I could hardly believe it. My brother. My rival. My oldest friend and worst enemy, all rolled into one.

“You’re out of your mind!” My voice shook. So did my body.

I hated how small I sounded, how desperate. I clung to that anger like a lifeline.

Without an inhibitor, I could tough it out. Maybe.

I’d been through worse, or so I told myself. I’d survived everything else life threw at me.

But with no inhibitor and only one alpha here, I knew exactly how this would end. Didn’t take a genius.

The odds were stacked, and I wasn’t stupid. I gritted my teeth and braced for the worst.

So, no matter how humiliating, I had to say something. Pride be damned. I had to say something.

Pride be damned. I wasn’t about to go down without a fight, even if it meant begging.

The pain was like my nerves were frying—even my tongue felt numb. I licked my dry lips, forced my mouth open, and tried to reason with the man behind me.

“Chase, calm down... Think of it as your brother begging you... Just this once, okay?”

My voice cracked on the last word. I just needed him to listen, just this once.

The Humvee was parked not far away—less than a hundred steps, round trip. Less than a hundred steps. Might as well be a mile.

I could see it in my mind’s eye, the dull green hulk of it squatting in the mud. If I could just make it that far, maybe I could pretend this never happened.

Chase, who’d been sniffing around like a bloodhound, finally stopped. For a second, hope flickered.

Maybe he’d come to his senses. Maybe I’d get out of this with my dignity intact.

I thought it worked. Stupid.

I held my breath, waiting for him to let go. I should’ve known better than to trust him.

But the next second, a sharp pain ripped through the back of my neck. Shit.

I gasped, the world going white with shock. I couldn’t even scream.

That sensitive patch of skin, raw and burning from the shift, was bitten! Bitten. Claimed.

His teeth sank in, hard and sure. My mind went blank, wiped clean by pain and something that felt dangerously close to pleasure.

A powerful, top-level alpha’s scent crashed into my system like a wild animal, rampaging through my glands, spreading fast.

It was overwhelming—like drowning in him. I could taste it, feel it in my bones.

“God—!”

The word tore out of me, half-moan, half-curse. I tried to fight, but my body wouldn’t listen.

I fought back, but my strength vanished quick. Gone. Just like that.

My limbs went slack, useless. Every thought slipping through my fingers.

A tingling sensation spread from my scalp to my toes, washing away the bone-deep pain. Shit. I hated how my body responded.

Relief and pleasure tangled together, leaving me dizzy. Not when it felt this good.

It was a feeling... you could get hooked on. Dangerous.

Addictive, like the first drag of a cigarette after weeks without. Dangerous, because I knew I’d want it again.

So good, it made my skin crawl.

I shuddered, biting back another moan. Every nerve alight.

I couldn’t help but let out a muffled groan. Chase’s voice was thick with satisfaction: “Feels good, doesn’t it? Where else do you want me to touch you, bro?” My stomach twisted.

His words were a taunt, but there was a hunger in them that scared me. Like he wanted me to beg for more.

The temporary mark worked fast. Too fast.

I could feel the effects spreading, dulling the pain, sharpening the need. I hated how much I needed him right then.

Soon, the pain and tingling faded, and my strength slowly came back. Slowly. Too slowly.

It was like waking up from a fever dream—groggy, sore, and a little ashamed. I flexed my fingers, testing my grip.

As soon as Chase let go, I swung a punch at his face! Finally.

The anger boiled over, pure and bright. To remind him I wasn’t some damsel in distress.

Unfortunately.