I Marked My Sister's Alpha Fiancé

"Unit Four, do you copy? The West District storm drains are backing up."

"I hear you, dispatch," I spoke into the radio, keeping my eyes on the slick asphalt. "I'm doing a final sweep of the motel strip on Route 9. Then I'll head back to the precinct."

"Copy that. Stay dry."

I clicked the radio off and tossed the mic onto the passenger seat. The windshield wipers slapped back and forth, pushing away heavy sheets of rain. I parked the cruiser two blocks down from the flashing neon sign of the Midnight Motel.

I killed the engine.

Stepping out into the storm, the icy downpour instantly soaked through my uniform jacket. I ignored the cold. My tracker app glowed brightly on my phone screen, the red dot sitting exactly over the motel's coordinates. Thorne thought he left his watch in his car. He forgot about the spare tracker I slipped into his briefcase after his pack received a security threat last month.

I walked past a row of rusted sedans and overflowing dumpsters. Mud splashed against my boots.

Room 104.

The brass numbers hung crookedly on a peeling green door. A narrow sliver of yellow light spilled through the gap in the window blinds. I pressed my shoulder against the wet brick exterior and leaned closer to the glass.

Thorne had Clara pinned against the cheap floral wallpaper.

He buried his face in her neck. His hands tangled tightly in her platinum blonde hair, pulling her head back to expose more skin. Clara wrapped her legs around his waist, knocking a cheap bedside lamp onto the floor. The bulb shattered, but neither of them stopped.

"Wait," Clara giggled, pushing his chest weakly. "What if she calls you?"

"My phone is on silent," Thorne replied. His voice sounded muffled through the glass, but the tone sliced straight through my chest. "She thinks I'm exhausted from the merger meeting. She won't bother me."

"You told her that?" Clara laughed again, tracing a finger down his jaw. "Poor Maeve. Always so trusting. Does she know you hate her cooking, too?"

"Don't talk about your sister right now," Thorne muttered.

"The wedding is in two months, Thorne. I need to be careful."

"Kaelen doesn't care," Thorne answered, kissing her collarbone. "He barely looks at anyone."

"He's an Alpha," Clara replied, arching her back. "He notices everything."

"He doesn't notice this," Thorne said.

He crushed his mouth against hers. Clara pulled his shirt over his head, discarding it onto the dirty carpet.

My hand dropped to my duty belt.

The leather strap of my holster snapped open under my thumb. I drew my service weapon. The heavy metal felt cold and solid in my grip. I didn't plan to shoot them. I wanted to kick the door off its hinges and watch them scramble. I wanted Thorne to look me in the eye and try to lie his way out of this room.

I took a step toward the door. I raised the barrel level with the lock.

"Put the gun away."

A rough, calloused palm clamped hard over my mouth.

Before I could swing my elbow back, an arm like an iron beam locked around my waist. The stranger lifted my boots completely off the concrete.

I kicked backward. My heel struck solid muscle, but the man didn't even grunt. He dragged me forcefully into the pitch-black fire alley behind the motel, pulling me away from the door and the neon light.

I bit down viciously on the hand covering my mouth. I tasted rain and copper.

"Quiet," a deep voice rasped right against my ear.

I thrashed in his grip. I twisted my wrist, trying to bring the gun up to point over my shoulder. The man caught my forearm, applying precise, agonizing pressure to a nerve cluster. My fingers went numb. The weapon clattered onto the wet asphalt.

"Let go of me!" I screamed against his palm.

He spun me around and shoved me backward. My spine hit the damp brick wall hard enough to rattle my teeth.

Then the scent hit me.

Pine needles, dark earth, and ozone. A storm breaking over a dense forest.

My inner wolf slammed violently against my ribs. She didn't growl. She didn't bare her teeth at the attacker. Instead, she let out a frantic, desperate whine that vibrated through my chest. She clawed at the edges of my mind, demanding submission.

My knees gave out.

The man caught my weight effortlessly, pinning me flush against his broad chest to keep me from sliding to the ground. The rain battered the back of my neck, freezing and sharp, but it did nothing to stop the sudden, violent surge of heat erupting at the base of my spine.

A scalding wave rushed through my bloodstream. My skin flushed so hot it stung the freezing air. I gasped, my lungs pulling in more of his intoxicating scent. The heat pooled low in my stomach, melting my anger into a trembling, terrifying weakness.

"What did you do to me?" I choked out, my voice barely a whisper.

"I stopped you from making a mistake," he replied, his tone low and even.

"Get off me." I pushed against his chest.

My hands flattened against his soaked shirt. Beneath the fabric, his heart beat in a slow, steady rhythm. The physical contact sent a jolt of pure electricity up my arms. My wolf howled, a sound of pure longing that echoed in my skull.

He didn't move. He kept me trapped against the wall, his large frame shielding me from the worst of the wind.

"Shooting your boyfriend isn't in your job description, Officer."

"I wasn't going to shoot him," I argued, my breathing turning shallow.

"Your safety was off," he pointed out.

He leaned closer. His nose brushed past my temple.

"You smell like lavender," he noted. "Her perfume."

"It rubbed off on Thorne's coat," I managed to say, fighting the heavy fog settling over my brain. "Why do you care?"

A massive crack of thunder rattled the narrow alleyway. Lightning flashed overhead, tearing through the darkness for one blinding, brilliant second.

The stark white light illuminated his face.

A sharp, unforgiving jawline. A jagged scar cutting through his left eyebrow. Dark golden eyes staring intensely into mine.

Kaelen.

The Alpha of the Obsidian Pack.

Clara's fiancé.

He stared at my parted lips, then dragged his gaze up to my feverish cheeks. The rain plastered his dark hair to his forehead, but he looked completely unfazed by the storm.

"Because she's my problem," Kaelen stated, his voice a dangerous rumble.

He reached down, his knuckles grazing my waist as he picked up my discarded gun from the puddle. He wiped the mud off the barrel with his thumb, then pressed the cold metal grip back into my trembling hand.

"You're going into heat," Kaelen said, his golden eyes narrowing as he pinned my wrists against the brick wall.