Page 43 of Alpha King


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He turns, his smile growing. “Oh, you’ll be there.”

Chapter Twelve

Abe

“Shift.”

I’m naked on the floor of my dad’s clinic with electrodes taped to my head.

Again.

The moon is nearly full, and I had another episode during the Homecoming game after I was crowned king with Rayne the Runt as queen.

I shift into wolf form at my father’s command. He’s not looking at me, he’s watching the readouts on his screen.

“Now shift back.”

Naked again. I don’t bother to stand up.

“What were you thinking about when you had the episode?”

I try not to think about Lauren’s candy-apple scent. Or what seeing her in the back of the stands did to me.

A blinding pain hits my right temple, and I groan.

“There. That was it. What are you thinking about now?”

“Nothing,” I grunt. “Just the game.”

Rayne didn’t even come down to get her crown. It could’ve been fucking Lauren as my queen.

That might have settled my wolf a little. Knowing I could take her from the boyfriend I need to kill and have her in my arms for a dance. My wolf has been out of his mind all week. My episodes are getting more frequent. I can barely see at school now, just knowing she’s in the building.

I’ve had to run in the woods every night, scratching at trees and boulders to release my pent-up aggression. Prowling the perimeter of the Sterling mansion. No one has been there. I haven’t caught any new scents.

Maybe Lincoln just said there was a boyfriend to fuck with me?

But that would mean he knows I care about Lauren, which would be another huge problem.

I barely restrained myself from violence against the other team tonight thinking it could be one of them. Unlikely, but you never know.

It’s not anyone from Wolf Ridge, or I would know it.

The only thing that’s given me relief was getting my hands on her today in Chemistry. That moaning, needy sound that came from her lips when I bit her knuckles.

Her scent told me that no matter who this clown is she calls a boyfriend, I’m the guy who turns her on. The one she’s thinking about when she touches herself at night.

If she touches herself at night.

Oh, fates… I roll my hips toward the floor to hide my sudden boner.

“That’s it! You did it again.” My dad is fortunately still looking at his screen. “What are you thinking about right now?” He’s excited, like he’s on the brink of solving my genetic defect.

“Nothing,” I pant. The pain hits behind both eyes and at the base of my skull. My stomach squeezes tighter than a fist.

My dad turns from the screen, his rolling chair creaking with the movement. “You’re lying.”

There’s danger in his tone. My dad is laid back compared to other male shifters. He wields a quiet authority without needing to back it with physical aggression. I always chalked it up to his attending college and med school with humans. And of course, his family practice only treats humans, since shifters rarely get sick or hurt. He’s had to blend in with humans and show a gentler side.

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