Breed Me, Daddy Alpha-Chapter 94

Lyra

And then.

Her eyes narrowed like a hawk zeroing in on prey. Her whole posture shifted — no longer casual, no longer teasing — just still. Focused. Suspicious.

Her voice dropped, slow and curious.

"You’re acting... weird."

I blinked, too hard.

"What? No. I’m acting totally normal. This is my normal. This is my exact personality."

Her eyes narrowed further. "Hmm."

Oh God.

"Hmmm."

Stop hmmmm-ing me!

Then she leaned in just a little, elbows on the counter, voice low like she was about to deliver a sermon.

"Are you... lying to me?"

Boom.

That was it.

My body betrayed me instantly.

My fingers jerked, my knee hit the stool leg, and the water bottle I’d just grabbed to calm my panic decided to betray me in public. I tilted it up too fast, missed the timing, and nearly drowned myself on the spot. A full spasm of coughing exploded out of me as the cold water shot down the wrong pipe, up my nose, and straight into my frontal lobe.

I slammed the bottle down, choking and coughing and sputtering like a possessed blender, eyes tearing, throat burning, chest heaving like I’d just run from the police.

Tasha didn’t blink.

She just stared.

Then—bam.

She laughed.

Again.

"Got you again," she wheezed, pointing at me like I was the world’s dumbest sitcom character. "You gullible bitch."

I stared at her, still coughing, still wheezing, water dripping down my chin.

"Tasha!" I rasped, clutching my throat like I was dying. "You can’t just—

She grinned wider.

"Gullible. As. Fuck."

I was about to talk about what my mum told me about me finishing high school here, then there was a sudden flurry of movement from down the hall, followed by the sound of very expensive shoes slapping against the marble.

Damon

Oh God.

He came rushing into the kitchen like a goddamn storm in a designer suit, looking like a snack with his crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar and his charcoal jacket half-thrown over one shoulder like he’d just finished destroying the world and was headed to brunch.

I blinked twice.

Right. I forgot. He’s actually a billionaire. And an Alpha.

He didn’t glance at me immediately. He went straight to the counter, grabbed his keys, a folder, his phone, and then finally—finally—he looked up and locked eyes with me.

And Jesus Christ.

My uterus tried to stand up and salute.

"Where are you in a hurry to, Dad?" Tasha asked with a casual grin, biting into her toast like this wasn’t the most awkward tension-filled room in the country.

"I need to be in Spain," he said briskly, eyes still on me. "Something important came up. I have to catch the jet now."

Jet.

Right.

Because this man doesn’t do cars or buses or economy-class living. He does jets and power and probably orgasm schedules.

He walked over to Tasha, leaned down, kissed her on the cheek, and muttered, "Text me if you need anything."

Then, like the climax of a goddamn drama series, he looked at me again. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Just for a second.

But it was loaded.

He didn’t kiss me. Of course he didn’t. He didn’t touch me. He didn’t say a word about what had happened last night—about the things he’d done to my body, about the way he’d destroyed my entire perception of pleasure and made me whimper Daddy while my mom was on the phone trying to tell me about boarding school.

He just... looked.

And our eyes said everything.

My stomach flipped so hard I almost fell off the stool.

"Take care, Lyra," he said softly, his voice like a velvet threat, and then he turned and walked out like a man with kingdoms to conquer.

The silence he left behind was thick.

I just sat there staring at the doorway like it might suck me into an alternate universe where I wasn’t the horniest, most confused, mentally unstable teenage girl on the planet.

Tasha raised an eyebrow.

Then grinned again.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That look."

"There was no look," I snapped, stuffing a piece of toast in my mouth like it could plug the emotional leak in my chest. "You’re imagining things. Your eyes are broken. You need medical attention and a lobotomy."

Tasha didn’t even flinch.

She just grinned wider and leaned back in her chair, popping a grape into her mouth like she was living her best life in some Netflix teen drama where I was the emotionally unstable sidekick with a cum addiction.

"Anyways," she said casually, swirling her juice like it was a cocktail and not orange liquid disappointment, "now that my dad’s gone..."

Oh God.

"Tasha," I said slowly, already suspicious.

"...I’m throwing a party!"

I blinked.

"What?"

"A party! Here. Tonight. We’re doing it, bitch. It’s happening. Operation Let’s-Get-Drunk-and-Embarrass-Ourselves 3.0."

I dropped my toast.

"Tasha," I said again, louder this time. "I thought your dad said no more parties ever again."

She shrugged like the laws of the universe didn’t apply to her.

"That’s his problem. He’s not here, is he?"

I stared at her. She stared back. And that’s when I realized something even more terrifying than Damon’s knot.

Her smile got bigger.

Sneakier.

Sinister.

"Guess who I invited," she sang in a voice that immediately gave me a stress rash.

My blood went cold.

Please no.

Please not who I think it is.

I swallowed. "Who?"

She tilted her head, smile sparkling with evil.

"Marcus."

I nearly dropped my entire soul.

"You have got to be kidding me!"