Claimed By A Father And Son

My Opponent?

~Elena~

Raina screamed like she was on a game show. “Yesss! My brother taught me this! I’ve been waiting for this day!”

Zia threw both fists in the air like we were in a stadium. “Let’s gooo! My dad made me spar with Gammas before I could spell ‘combat!’ I’ve been dreaming of this moment!”

And me?

I was standing there like a corpse with anxiety. My legs were jelly. My lungs were closed for business. My hoodie was glued to my spine with sweat. I could feel my soul looking for the nearest emergency exit.

“Oh s**t,” I whispered. “This is really happening. I’m going to die. I’m going to shift mid-panic, scream like a cartoon character, and get trampled to death in front of the entire freshman class.”

“Breathe,” my wolf said calmly. “This is nothing. You’ve survived worse.”

“No, I have not,” I snapped in my head, already hyperventilating. “I have never been dragged into an actual death match with sweat dripping down my ass and a war cry being screamed at me like we’re in Sparta.”

“You’re not alone. I’m with you.”

“Then you better be ready to take over and fight because I’m about to black out!”

I took one step forward and then paused.

Because I saw him.

Lucian.

Leaning against a post at the edge of the ring, arms crossed, eyes locked on me like he knew every single thing happening in my body. Like he could hear my heartbeat speeding up. Like he could smell the fear on me.

Or worse.

Like he could smell something else.

Because the second our eyes locked, something in my gut dropped. My breath hitched. My legs buckled just a little. And then — just to complete the horror of the moment — heat bloomed between my thighs.

No. Nope. Absolutely not.

“Oh my God,” I whispered to myself, trying to clench every muscle in my body like that would stop it. “Not now. Not here. I am not getting wet while walking into a fight. This is not a porn fantasy. This is not hot. This is traumatic. This is public. People are watching!”

“He looked at you,” my wolf whispered darkly. “And your body responded.”

“My body betrayed me!”

“You like it.”

“I hate it! I hate him! I hate his face! I hate that I can smell him from here and he smells like wood smoke and s*x and blood! I hate this hoodie! I hate my thighs for clenching!”

Lucian hadn’t moved. But his jaw flexed. His eyes narrowed. And then—slowly—his lips curled into the most wicked smile I had ever seen in my life. Like he knew. Like he could taste it in the air.

He knows.

I felt a throb so deep I almost collapsed.

“Oh my God,” I whispered again, blinking rapidly as I stumbled forward. “I’m going to die. I’m going to be the first girl in school history to get turned on, knocked out, and embarrassed into another dimension in front of her entire class on the first day.”

“Focus,” my wolf growled.

“I can’t. I’m slippery.”

“Pull it together.”

“I’m wet and terrified. I’m sweat-wet and Lucian-wet. That’s double wet. I’m a hazard.”

Zia was waving at me like this was a fun sleepover game. “Good luck, babe! Don’t cry!”

Raina just blew me a kiss. “Remember—if you survive, you’re a legend!”

The coach, who looked like she chewed bones for breakfast and probably brushed her teeth with barbed wire, turned around like a medieval queen ordering someone’s execution and pointed straight at me with a glare that could kill.

“You,” she said, her voice slicing through the air like a whip. “Since you like standing around and staring, get in the center. You’re up first.”

I froze.

My brain shut down completely. For a solid five seconds, I just blinked like maybe she wasn’t talking to me. I even turned around, expecting to see someone else behind me.

Someone taller. Someone meaner. Someone not dressed like they thought this was a casual group tour and not a Hunger Games reboot. But there was no one. Just air. Just silence. Just me. Hoodie soaked in fear-sweat. Knees shaking. Face pale. Eyes wide.

“Wait—no, I think you’ve got the wrong girl,” I said quickly, raising one hand like I could pause reality. “I didn’t sign up for this. I thought this was, like, orientation. You know? With name tags. A slideshow. Maybe a welcome chant. Not a full-blown live-action murder simulation.”

The coach stared at me with the expression of someone deeply unimpressed by everything I had ever done in my life.

“I don’t fight,” I continued, heart pounding in my throat. “I mean, I bruise when I bump into furniture. I have anxiety-induced vertigo. I’m wearing a hoodie because I thought today was chill. I haven’t eaten. I think my blood sugar’s crashing. My ankle hurts. Also, possibly—probably—I have a heart murmur. Undiagnosed. But I feel it.”

Still nothing. She didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Didn’t even twitch.

“I could cheer from the sidelines,” I offered, desperate now. “I’m really good at that. Go wolves. Yay. Let’s maim someone. Rip their throat out. Woooo.”

My wolf, the ever-supportive b***h, was laughing in my head like she’d just tuned into a comedy special. “This is truly pathetic,” she said, not even hiding her disdain.

“Shut up,” I snapped back mentally, gripping the hem of my hoodie like it was some kind of emotional support blanket. “I’m trying to live.”

“You are first,” the coach declared, voice like a gavel slamming down on my coffin.

I choked. I actually choked on my own breath.

“No,” I said. “No, no, no. There has to be a mistake. This is some kind of hazing ritual, right? You’re not seriously making me fight. This is psychological warfare.”

The coach didn’t answer. She just turned, pointed across the ring, and uttered the two words that made my soul detach from my body.

“Your opponent.”

And then she pointed at him.

Lucian.

Lucian Blackthorne.

Lucian, who had been staring at me all morning like he already knew what color my panties were.

My jaw dropped.

I stumbled back.

I actually threw my hands in the air like a full-blown panic cartoon character and shouted, “What the actual f**k?!”

The gasps echoed. Laughter started. Zia was coughing into her sleeve. Raina looked like her spirit had left her body. And me? I was halfway to a nervous breakdown.

“You’re pairing me with him?” I demanded, pointing at Lucian like he was a literal serial killer. “That is not a fair match. That is not even a fight. That’s an assassination. An execution. This is actually a crime.”

Lucian tilted his head, and then he smiled.

It wasn’t a nice smile. It was a “you’re already mine” smile. A slow, arrogant, dark smile that looked like it had taken down kingdoms.

“He’s not even in my weight category,” I ranted. “He’s not in my species. I’m five foot nothing! I’m emotionally unstable and physically allergic to pain. And I’m wearing a hoodie! That still smells like fabric softener! He looks like he bathes in testosterone and eats wolves for breakfast!”

“You are loud,” my wolf muttered in my head, zero support in her tone.

“You’re unhelpful,” I hissed back.

“This will be good for you.”

“This will be the end of me.”

“Silence,” the coach snapped.

I flinched so hard I almost sprained my spine. My eyes were wide. My heart was in my mouth. My whole body felt like a candle about to melt down.

“Out there,” the coach said coldly, “the enemy doesn’t ask about your hoodie or your height or your feelings. Out there, they rip you apart. So stop whining, step up, or crawl out of this ring and admit you’re nothing but meat.”

And then, just to make it worse, Lucian started walking toward me.

He didn’t rush. He didn’t run. He stalked.

His arms were flexing. His abs were glistening like they’d been painted by gods with personal grudges against my self-control.

“Hey, bunny,” he said.

I felt the way his words touched me, slow and soft and absolutely, positively wrong. He said it like we were in a dark bedroom, not a combat ring.

“Didn’t think I’d get you this early,” he continued, and his voice was slower this time, thicker, hotter. “But I’m not complaining. You’re shaking already.”

“I’m cold,” I lied, even though I was sweating like a sinner in church.

“No, you’re not,” he smirked. “You’re wet.”

My whole body stopped working. My lungs, my heart, my everything. I froze, wide-eyed and red-faced, because oh my Goddess, he said it. He actually said it. In front of everyone. He smelled me.

He leaned in closer, his voice soft enough that no one else could hear it but me. “I smelled it the second you walked in. All that fear. All that heat. You’re scared, bunny. But you’re also turned on, aren’t you?”

I whimpered. I didn’t mean to. But it slipped out.

He grinned wider.

“Everyone’s watching,” he whispered, his mouth so close to my ear it made my entire spine light up. “Are you going to let me humiliate you in front of the whole class? Or are you going to make me work for it?”

My mouth opened.

And my soul committed suicide.

“I could f**k you,” I said.

Lucian blinked.

I blinked.

And then I realized what I just said.

“I..I meant punch!” I stammered, voice two octaves too high. “Punch you. In the face. Not..not the other thing. Obviously.”

But it was too late.

Lucian had already heard it.

He had already felt it.

And the smirk that stretched across his face made my knees tremble so hard I thought I might actually fall.

“Oh, bunny,” he murmured.

“you’re going to make this so fun.”

He leaned in, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip like he was tasting the air around me, and then dropped his voice even lower.

“If you land one hit on me—just one—I’ll let you call me whatever you want. Coach Alpha Or…” he paused, smiled, and whispered straight into my soul, “Daddy.”

And that was the moment I knew I was going to die.

Wet.

And possibly smiling.

Oh Moon Goodness save me.