TASTE OF A BROKEN LUNA

“You’ve got ten seconds to vanish before I snap your spine like a dry twig,” Dominic growled.

He didn’t just stand there; he loomed. His shoulders, thick with the kind of muscle only an Alpha-born NFL star could carry, blocked out the streetlights. Jess Whitman felt the heat radiating off him, a stark contrast to the numbing cold Michael Reynolds had left in her chest.

Michael skidded to a halt, his chest heaving, his expensive pre-med scrubs rumpled. He looked small. For two years, Jess had seen him as a giant, the brilliant future doctor who loved her despite her lack of a wolf. Now, standing next to Dominic Hale, Michael looked like a mangy pup.

“Jess, who the hell is this?” Michael panted, his eyes darting between her tear-streaked face and Dominic’s lethal glare. “Is this why you were in the closet? To set me up? You brought some muscle?”

“I brought a reality check, Michael,” Jess spat, her voice cracking but holding steady. She stepped out from the circle of Dominic’s protective aura, her small fists clenched at her sides. “I was in that closet in lingerie I bought to surprise you. Instead, I got to watch you knotting Vanessa Price. How’s that for a surprise?”

Michael’s face drained of color, then flushed a guilty, mottled red. “Jess, babe, look—it’s a wolf thing. You wouldn’t understand. She’s an Omega, her scent was everywhere, and you… you don’t even have a scent. I have needs that a human-passing girl just can’t—”

Dominic’s hand shot out, his fingers locking onto the collar of Michael’s shirt. He hauled the smaller man off his feet with a single, effortless jerk. The sound of tearing fabric punctuated the silence.

“Don't you dare blame your lack of honor on the Moon,” Dominic hissed, his voice dropping into that low, sub-vocal vibration that made the air tremble. His eyes, usually a sharp, piercing blue, flickered with a dangerous gold. “She’s a Whitman. Her blood is purer than yours will ever be. You’re a bottom-feeder, Reynolds. If I ever see you within a mile of her again, I won’t just break your nose. I’ll make sure you never walk again.”

“Put me down! You can’t do this, I’ll call the Council!” Michael clawed at Dominic’s hand, his feet dangling.

“Call them,” Dominic invited, his smile a serrated edge of teeth. “Tell them you insulted the sister of three Alpha-tier warriors while cheating on her. See who they side with.”

He dropped Michael like a bag of trash. Michael hit the pavement with a grunt, scrambled to his feet, and bolted back toward the apartment complex without looking back.

Jess let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The adrenaline was fading, leaving her hollow. “You didn't have to do that, Dom.”

“I did,” he said, turning back to her. The golden tint in his eyes faded, replaced by a raw, unshielded intensity. He reached out, his thumb catching a stray tear on her cheek. His skin was scorching. “He’s a waste of breath. Let’s get you out of here.”

He led her to the midnight-blue sports car. The engine didn't just turn over; it roared like a caged beast.

“Where are we going?” Jess asked, sinking into the leather seat. It smelled like him—sandalwood, rain, and power.

“My place,” Dominic said, shifting into gear. “The press is all over my hotel because of the photoshoot. My penthouse is the only place in the city that’s truly secure. No one gets in without my thumbprint.”

“Dominic, I can’t stay at your place. If Jonathan or Marcus find out, they’ll lose their minds. They already think I’m too fragile because I haven’t shifted.”

“Let them. I’ll handle your brothers,” he said, his jaw set. “And stop saying you’re fragile. You punched a shifter and stood your ground. You’re a Whitman. Shifting doesn’t make you a wolf, Jess. This does.” He tapped his chest, right over his heart.

The drive was fast. Dominic drove the way he played—aggressive, precise, and completely in control. When they reached the penthouse, he didn't wait for her to open her door. He was there, his hand reaching for hers, pulling her into the private elevator.

The doors slid open to a space that was all glass and dark wood, overlooking the glowing sprawl of the city. Jess walked to the window, her reflection ghost-like against the glass. “Michael said I was boring. He said he’d been looking for a way out for months.”

“He was looking for an excuse for his own weakness,” Dominic’s voice was right behind her.

She turned, and he was there. He hadn't turned on the lights. The city skyline provided the only glow, casting long, dramatic shadows across his chiseled face. He looked at her like he wanted to devour her and protect her all at once.

“Is that why you’re here, Dom? Pity? Taking care of your best friend’s little sister?”

“Pity?” Dominic let out a low, dark laugh. He stepped into her space, forcing her back against the glass. He placed his hands on the window on either side of her head, pinning her. “I’ve stayed away from the Whitman house for two years because of you, Jess. Because every time I saw you, the wolf inside me wanted to claim you. Because watching you with that pathetic excuse for a man made my blood boil.”

Jess’s breath hitched. “You’re serious.”

“I don’t joke about this,” he whispered, his face inches from hers. “I’m the Northstar Alpha’s heir. I have everything. Fame, money, power. And none of it matters if I can’t have the one thing I actually want.”

His hand slid from the window into her hair, his fingers tangling in the strands, tilting her head back. His gaze dropped to her lips.

“Dom,” she breathed, her heart hammering.

He didn't wait. He crashed his mouth onto hers.

It was a collision, not a kiss. It was the release of years of restraint. Jess didn't pull away; she met him with a desperate hunger of her own. She needed to feel something other than the cold ache of betrayal. She needed the fire he was offering.

Dominic groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated into her lungs. He swept her up, her legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. He carried her toward the massive bed in the center of the room, never breaking the kiss.

He dropped her onto the silk sheets and followed her down, his heavy, muscular frame a welcome weight. He was everywhere—his hands, his mouth, his scent. He ripped his shirt off, the fabric fluttering to the floor, revealing a torso of sculpted muscle and old battle scars.

“I’ve wanted this since the day you turned eighteen,” he panted, his teeth grazing her collarbone.

He didn't waste time with words. He stripped her clothes away with a frantic, focused energy. When she was bare beneath him, he paused, his eyes glowing gold again as he took her in. His hand slid down her body, his palm hot against her belly, moving lower until he found the center of her heat.

“You’re so ready for me,” he groaned, his fingers finding her slick and pulsing.

“Please,” Jess begged, her back arching off the bed. “Dominic, now.”

He reached for his belt, his movements a blur of controlled violence. When he moved back over her, Jess felt the sheer size of him, the raw power of an Alpha in his prime. He positioned himself, the head of his cock brushing against her entrance, teasing her until she was sobbing his name.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice a rasp.

She opened her eyes, seeing the gold, seeing the man who had been her silent guardian for a decade.

He drove into her in one deep, punishing thrust.

Jess’s scream was muffled by his mouth as he kissed her again. He was huge, stretching her, filling her in a way that felt like soul-deep completion. He didn't move for a moment, letting her body adjust to the invasion, his muscles corded and shaking with the effort of holding back.

“You okay?” he gasped.

“Don’t stop,” she cried, her nails raking down his back, drawing thin lines of red. “Dom, please, move!”

He began to thrust, a slow, heavy grind that sent sparks of white-hot pleasure through her nerves. He wasn't being gentle. He was claiming her. Each strike was deep, hitting her most sensitive spots, making her vision blur. He transitioned to a faster, more brutal pace, his hips slamming against hers with a rhythmic, wet sound that filled the room.

“You’re mine,” he growled into her ear, his breath hot. “Not Michael’s. Not your brothers’. Mine.”

Jess couldn't speak. She could only feel. The friction was building, a coil of lightning tightening in her core. She threw her head back, her throat bared, her legs locking around his waist to pull him even deeper.

Dominic’s pace became frantic. He flipped her over, pulling her onto her hands and knees. He gripped her hips, his fingers bruising her skin, and drove into her from behind. The change in angle was devastating. Jess screamed, her hands clutching the sheets as he pounded into her, his knot beginning to swell, demanding the final release.

“Dom! Dom, I’m—I’m going to—”

“Give it to me,” he roared, his voice more wolf than man.

The orgasm hit her like a physical blow. Her internal muscles clamped down on him, milking him, as the world exploded in a kaleidoscope of heat. A second later, Dominic let out a primal howl, his body tensing into a rigid arc as he poured himself into her, his knot locking them together in the ancient, unbreakable bond of their kind.

He collapsed on top of her, his sweat-slicked chest heaving against her back. He stayed inside her, the weight of him grounding her, the lingering warmth of their union humming in the air.

Neither of them spoke for a long time. The only sound was the hum of the city and their syncing breaths.

Eventually, Dominic rolled off, pulling her into his arms. He tucked her head under his chin, his hand stroking her arm. Jess felt a strange, new sensation—a low, rhythmic thrumming in her own chest. For the first time, she felt her inner wolf stir, nudged awake by the Alpha’s power.

“You should sleep,” Dominic whispered.

“I don’t think I can,” Jess murmured, though her eyes were heavy.

Just as her eyelids began to flutter shut, a sharp, electronic chime cut through the silence.

Dominic reached for his phone on the nightstand. His face went stone-cold as he read the screen.

“What is it?” Jess asked, sitting up, the sheet clutched to her chest.

Dominic turned the phone around. It was a message from a private pack frequency. A photo of his car parked outside Michael’s apartment, followed by a photo of him carrying Jess into the penthouse.

The caption read: The Alpha’s heir has a new pet. Does the Whitman family know their ‘human’ sister is sleeping with the enemy?

The sender was Vanessa Price.

And below the message, a notification popped up.

Incoming Call: Jonathan Whitman.

“Oh, fuck,” Jess whispered.