Reborn to Seduce My Mate's Brother

The moon hung low, a silver scythe slicing through the mist over Bashington Manor.

Tom Bashington sat across from me, his hands trembling as he poured brandy-though his smile was as polished as the mahogany table between us.

"My love," he said, voice too smooth, "you deserve a night to remember."

Little did I feign ignorance of the shadow lurking in the east wing: his twin, Caleb.

Tom's infertility was a secret sewn into the silk of our bond, but his solution was a monster's pact. That night, when I slipped into the darkened bedroom, it wasn't Tom's hands that pinned me to the sheets.

They were rougher, calloused.

His breath was warm against my neck.

I arched beneath him, pretending the shudder that ran through me was pleasure.

The next morning, I found Tom in the library, staring at a portrait of his ancestors.

His face was as pale as the canvas, but I sashayed over, trailing a hand along his shoulder. "Darling," I cooed, loud enough for the servants to hear,

"you were... extraordinary last night."

My voice dropped to a purr.

"I've never felt so... claimed."

Tom flinched, his knuckles white on the armrest.

Then, he turned, eyes haunted by a desperate hope.

"Tell me," he whispered, voice cracking,

"do you love the man who holds you gently by day... or the beast who ravages you in the dark?"

I leaned in, pressing my lips to his cold cheek, and felt his whole body tense.

"Oh, Tom," I breathed, looping my arm through his .

"By day, I love your kindness." My smile turned wicked. "But at night? I crave the wildness only a... predator can give."

...

Brother, this was personally brewed by Jane Cage. Do try it!" Tom Bashington's voice sliced through the thick, charged air like a rusted blade.

My head snapped up, as if pulled by an invisible force, and I fixed my gaze on Danzel across the table.

The crystal chandelier above convulsed with a sudden, jagged burst of light, as if struck by an invisible bolt of lightning, casting Danzel in a stark, otherworldly glow.

And then it hit me: I'd been reborn.

In my past life, Tom, plagued by infertility, had spiked his brother's food.

He wanted Danzel to impregnate me, to secure an heir that would help him wrest control of the pack fortune from their elders.

Once he used my pregnancy to seize Bashington pack heirs, he'd thrown me into a ice cell. There, he'd tormented me daily-until his mistress threw wolfsbane acid in my face, screaming the truth: the child was Danzel's.

To Tom, we were abominations, proof of his own inadequacy.

I'd burned the ice cell then, trapping Tom and his lover in the inferno.

We'd all perished-but not before I saw Danzel fight through the flames, his form shifting in the smoke.

"Jane!" he'd howled, claws tearing at the burning beams.

"Hold on! I'm here!" His wolfish strength had tried to carry me out, but the fire was too fierce.

As the world went dark, his furred arms had crushed me close, his final words a growl against my skin: "I love you, Jane... always."

"Brother, eat up!"

Tom's voice cut through the memory, his tone too sweet. "Don't waste Jane's hard work."

I looked at his eager face and felt a surge of nausea.

That oat milk was meant for him-yet he played it off as a gift for Danzel.

Last time, I'd thought it brotherly love.

Now I saw the plan: the oat milk was wolf drugged.

"Is that so?" Danzel's gaze flicked to me, his pupils dilating slightly as he caught my scent.

"If Jane made it..." He lifted the spoon, but paused.

This time, instead of stopping him, I smiled softly, my voice like honey.

"If you like it, there's more."

Tom's smile faltered, his hand tightening on the table.

Danzel, however, froze, his eyes locking onto mine.

For a moment, the air crackled-between us, a silent understanding.