Macy’s pov
The silence in the dining room was suffocating. It clung to the walls, thick as smoke, pressing down on my shoulders like invisible weights. Silverware clinked faintly against fine china, but no one truly ate. Not me, at least.
I sat stiffly, my fork untouched, barely breathing.
Because across the table… *he* was watching me.
Liam Torres.
His eyes never left mine—dark, stormy, unreadable. It wasn’t just the way he looked at me; it was the way he saw me. Like he was trying to unpeel me layer by layer, stripping me bare without ever touching me.
I shrank under that gaze. I’d never felt so small… so exposed.
“Liam,” Mr. Torres said, breaking the silence with a strained voice. “Have you met Macy? Derick’s girlfriend.”
Liam didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I have.”
His gaze didn’t waver.
I shifted in my seat, my palms damp on the velvet table napkin. It felt like everyone could hear the thudding of my heart.
Derick leaned forward. “You ran off earlier when I introduced her,” he said pointedly, not bothering to soften his tone. “Now Macy thinks you don’t like her.”
I winced. My fingers tightened around the napkin.
Liam’s jaw ticked. “I had other things to take care of,” he replied coolly. “Your girlfriend shouldn’t assume things.”
His words sliced through the table like glass. Cold. Sharp. Dismissive.
“She’s not assuming,” Derick said, eyes narrowing. “That’s how you made her feel.”
The tension stretched tight, an invisible thread on the verge of snapping. I could feel it wrapping around me, pulling taut between the two brothers.
I cleared my throat and placed a gentle hand on Derick’s arm. “It’s okay,” I murmured, forcing a smile. “Maybe it was just a misunderstanding.”
Derick looked like he wanted to argue, but I shook my head subtly. After a pause, he exhaled and leaned back.
I dared a glance at Liam.
He was still staring.
His expression was impossible to read—but his eyes? They burned. Not with hatred, exactly. Something hotter. Wilder.
I swallowed hard.
*What did I do to make him look at me like that?* Like I was both a curse and a craving.
“Let’s continue with our food, please,” Mr. Torres said, his voice calm but firm, glancing between his sons with veiled concern.
The clinking resumed, forced and awkward. I picked up my fork, but my appetite was long gone.
Minutes passed. Then—The door swung open.
A tall man strode in with long, dark hair pulled back neatly. He had the kind of raw masculinity that made you stare twice—broad-shouldered, intense, rugged.
Seriously, what the hell was in the water around here?
“Alpha,” he said, his tone urgent. “We have a situation.”
I blinked. *Alpha?*
Derick snapped before I could make sense of it. “What couldn’t wait until after dinner? And why didn’t you mind-link—uh, I mean, call?”
Liam shot him a sharp look. One I didn’t understand. Derick seemed to realize his mistake and fell silent.
“Let’s talk in my office, Greg,” Liam said, his voice low and commanding.
That voice… it did something to me. Like a storm in my bloodstream. Like thunder wrapped in velvet.
Greg nodded and left the room. Liam followed—but before he disappeared, he turned.
And looked at me.
Just one glance.
But it pierced me clean through. Like he’d just marked me with his eyes alone.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
My cheeks flushed. My thighs pressed tightly together beneath the table as heat swelled between them. *What the hell is wrong with me?*
---
After dinner, Mrs. Torres invited me for tea in the sunroom. She was elegant and graceful, asking questions about my hobbies and life with Derick. I tried to focus, to act normal.
But all I could think about was Liam. That stare. That impossible pull.
Later, I slipped into Derick’s room, took a quick shower, and climbed into bed. He was still downstairs handling something. I closed my eyes, hoping for sleep.
But it found me in the strangest way.
---
I wasn’t dreaming.
At least, it didn’t feel like it.
I was lying on my back, the sheets cool beneath me, when I felt it—a whisper of breath against my ear.
“Macy… you’re mine. You are my chosen, and no one gets you but me.”
The voice was gravel and silk. Familiar. Possessive.
My body froze, yet I couldn’t move. Couldn’t cry out. I was *trapped*—not by fear, but by something invisible and heavy. A presence.
Warm hands slid beneath my pajamas, slowly exploring my body like he already owned it. Fingers ghosted down my sides, my thighs, and lower, dipping between them. My breath caught.
Then lips pressed to mine—desperate and devouring.
I moaned against the kiss, trembling as my clothes disappeared, skin meeting air, meeting fire.
He kissed a trail down my body, dragging his mouth over every inch until he settled between my legs.
“Hmm,” he murmured, voice thick with desire, “you’re already so wet for me, baby girl. I like that.”
His tongue flicked across my most sensitive spot, teasing and circling my clitoris, then sucking with wicked expertise. My body bucked, arching into his mouth as stars burst behind my eyes.
And then—he slid a finger inside me.
I shattered.
Crying out, my body pulsed with release, and he kept going—licking me clean, whispering filth against my skin like a man obsessed.
He kissed me again, and I tasted myself on his lips.
“Macy,” he growled, “I can’t let you go. I won’t.”
Then light. Blinding, sudden light. And I saw him.
“Liam,” I gasped, voice breaking. “What is… how could you—?”
“Hush, baby girl.” His smile was dark, hungry. “You’re mine. Not Derick’s.”
---
I woke with a gasp, heart slamming against my ribs, sweat slick on my skin.
Sunlight streamed through the curtains.
*It was just a dream. Just a dream...* I touched my thighs, and shame curled in my stomach when I felt how wet I was.
*No. No, no, no.* This couldn’t be happening. I’d just had a *wet dream* about Liam—my boyfriend’s brother.
The other side of the bed was still warm. Derick had just gotten up.
The bathroom door opened.
Derick walked out, fresh from the shower, water trailing down his chest. A towel hung low on his hips, muscles gleaming. He looked like a god.
But for one brief second… I didn’t see him.
I saw *Liam*.
I blinked. He was gone. It was Derick. Only Derick.
My stomach twisted. My thoughts were in chaos.
*What’s happening to me? Why am I thinking about Liam like this?*
“Babe?” Derick’s voice was gentle. “You okay? You look pale.”
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” I stammered quickly, then rushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind me.
I leaned against it, breathing hard, trying to ground myself.
But nothing could silence the echo of Liam’s voice in my mind.
*You’re mine.*