Villainess Marked For Her Alpha-Chapter 84: Ivory Hates Lily Too
Ivory had been a die-hard Lily Warren fan, mesmerized by her on-screen charisma and flawless poise—she thought Lily the pinnacle of acting talent, elegant and untouchable. An omega wgo dared to challenge the society by doing alpha movies, Ivory respected her immensely.
But all that shattered one fateful day, flipping her world upside down.
More than Lily’s polished performances, Ivory adored cats—their sleek grace, mischievous eyes, velvet paws that could melt steel hearts.
Felines were her ultimate weakness, soft bundles of purrs and mystery she craved endlessly. Yet cruel irony struck—she was violently allergic, eyes watering and throat closing at mere proximity.
So, she admired from afar, leading vibrant online cat-loving groups with fervour, posting memes and rescues while denying herself the touch.
One crisp afternoon, the woman notorious for stalking Lily gave a live interview—Emily. Midway through, poised and radiant under studio lights, Emily scooped up a fluffy cat which was lounging near her feet and began petting it tenderly—fingers stroking slow, cooing soft as the cat melted boneless into her lap.
Ivory bristled at first, snarling it a blatant PR stunt to rehab her image, fury boiling hot.
But her captain’s instincts—honed sharp by rising meteoric through ranks—spotted authenticity—the genuine bliss in Emily’s emerald eyes, the cat’s rumbling purr vibrating real.
She reached captain too young for nothing, Ivory conceded grudging, intrigue sparking unbidden.
This ignited a burning interest toward Emily, fanned to obsession when her modelling portfolio exploded online—stunning shots draped in exotic locales with animals, but cats stole the show.
Emily in sheer silk robes cradling Siamese kittens, emerald eyes sparkling playful; lounging fierce in leather with Bengals prowling her thighs, kittens on top of body when she was giving a sleeping shot in a cat-themed gown; and the coup de grâce—a custom cat costume, fluffy ears twitching atop her messy bun, tail swishing provocative over her pert ass, whiskers painted delicate on high cheekbones.
Ivory’s alpha ferocity twisted irresistibly cute. Even her nose bled, primal heat flooding her veins as she stared slack-jawed at the screen.
"Tom, give me your shirt and blazer—now," she barked urgent into her phone, voice husky with barely contained glee.
Tom, her loyal lieutenant and fellow alpha, balked audibly. "Sir, what?!" His tone pitched scared, imagining worst.
"Yes, give them," Ivory demanded, already shrugging off her own uniform jacket in the precinct locker room—white t-shirt clinging simple to her powerful frame.
"Can I ask the reason for stripping me?" Tom yelped, scrambling to comply over video.
"That Felix case, remember? Hottest one burning right now," she grinned wolfish, snatching the clothes from his trembling hands moments later—Tom’s shirt hugging her broad shoulders, blazer draping casual authority.
"Yeah, it’s scorching the headlines," he confirmed wary, eyes narrowing shrewd—he knew Ivory’s secret gushing over Emily’s billboards, ads, every glossy spread. "You going to trouble her? Emily has got nothing to do with it."
"Of course I know that! But it’s the perfect excuse to meet her," Ivory confessed giddy, straightening Tom’s too-big collar in the mirror—heart pounding like a rutting beast. "I have to be perfect! What if she thinks that I am some ruffian who’s there to disturb her?"
"You’re a very despicable person, Captain," Tom muttered fond-exasperated, shaking his head.
"Tom, just hand it over," she laughed rich, already striding out—excitement thrumming electric as she peeled toward Willowbrook Manor, Emily’s sprawling estate.
To Ivory, Emily wasn’t human; she was a cat in alpha’s skin—lithe, sassy, begging to be petted, and pampered.
She slammed the car into park amid the downpour’s prelude, strode up dripping determination, and knocked sharp—pulse jackhammering.
The door swung open, and there she was—Emily, breath-taking beyond fevered dreams.
She was in an orange hoodie zipped loose over green shorts that clung to her thighs, raven hair twisted into a messy bun stabbed through a design pencil that she must have been using for sketching designs.
Emerald eyes wide and luminous like forest depths after rain, framed by thick lashes and—stray tendrils curling damp against porcelain-olive skin flushed pink at the cheeks. Full, pouty lips parted soft surprise, naturally rose and glistening like dew-kissed petals begging a bite.
Her figure screamed alpha allure wrapped in deceptive softness—high, pert breasts straining her hoodie—though for some reason Emily was jealous of her chest size—nipped waist flaring to generous hips and a glorious ass—round, firm handfuls hugged by the shorts that left nothing to imagination.
Barefoot, painted toes curling shy on floors, she radiated innocent ferocity—her scent was unique which was covered by coffee-rich and other alphas’ musky smell, which made Ivory a bit angry.
Ivory’s heart lurched, cock twitching primal; she wanted to devour those pouty cheeks, mark every inch hers.
With that single look, Ivory felt it visceral in her chest—not just fan-gush, but raw hunger to bite, claim, breed.
When Emily blurted compliments on her beauty, Ivory’s subconscious hijacked—she snatched those slender hands, kissing knuckles fervent—coffee scent exploding on her tongue, plush lips lingering too long, shivers racing her spine.
But Emily eclipsed her utterly—perfect, cat-like prey incarnate.
Ivory clocked her alpha scent, but Emily’s nose pierced the perfume veil to that unique pheromone cocktail of hers. A revelation that sent joy exploding fireworks in her gut, rare treasure unveiled—Emily was an omega. Her doubts came true.
When Emily spilled Kien’s misdeeds, Ivory’s rage detonated volcanic—she craved snapping every bone in that traitor’s body, shocking even her iron control.
Emily chattered endless, adorable—and gods, that ass swayed hypnotic with every emphatic gesture.
Emily hated Lily? Music to Ivory’s ears—she pivoted instant, loathing Warren’s facade now too. Lily had become her enemy too.
She also noted that Emily would hate anyone who would do something bad to her—which was too correct. She should hate them!
As Ivory rose to leave, Emily stalled her with rain excuses, offering pancakes—bless that soft heart. Ivory’s Neanderthal roared awake—primitive alpha surging feral, visions flooding—pinning Emily down, sinking teeth into her nape claiming, rutting deep till her belly swelled round with their pups, tits heavy with milk, waddling their children. Mine. Breed. Now.
