All Chapters of ALPHA PRINCE’S FORBIDDEN DESIRE: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

As much as I would have loved to ignore Victor’s dinner invitation, I knew better than to test the Alpha’s patience. So, at 4 p.m. on Saturday, I got dressed and went to the address printed on the back of the card. It was a boutique. Just from the name alone, I could tell it was the kind of place I would have been able to afford in my past life—but certainly not in this one. So, I walked in without a sense of wonder and gave the woman at the front desk the name written on the card. She quickly directed me to a private dressing room tucked away in the farthest corner of the boutique, and within minutes, they got to work. My hair was styled into an elaborate updo, my face dusted with makeup and some kind of powder that made my skin glow. Then, they spritzed me with perfume before slipping me into a black dress, paired with matching black heels and earrings made of shiny black diamonds. By the time they were done, I barely recognized myself. The stylists seemed pleased, mistaking th

“No!” The word burst from my lips before I could stop it. Beneath me, I felt Victor tense. Inwardly, I cursed and scrambled off him, ignoring the ghost of his fingers skimming my waist as I pulled away. The moment my heels met the cool tile, a tight knot of tension unraveled in my chest. I could breathe again. Pleased to finally be away from him—this cruel, unpredictable man who had spent the last hour tearing into Elijah and Sophie—I forced myself to stand tall. I wasn’t a stranger to cruel parents, far from it, but Victor was something else entirely. The rage I’d felt watching him dismantle them with nothing but words, the helplessness of sitting there while he chipped away at them, had only been swept aside by the sheer audacity of his latest command. Now, my body trembled for an entirely different reason. “I apologize, Alpha,” I said, dipping my head in a show of remorse. “But I’m afraid I can’t do as you ask.” “Oh?” Victor’s voice was mild, but something in it made my stoma

“Fuck you, Luka!” She finally managed to rip herself away from him and ran toward the door. I moved toward her, but she yanked it open before I could stop her—only to freeze when she saw someone standing right outside. I looked over her head and caught sight of Lenora, standing motionless in the doorway, her expression surprised. She took a step back, eyes darting between my sister and me. “I… I’m sorry. I was just about to knock.” My gaze latched onto Lenora, scanning for any signs that she might be hurt. There were none—except her hair was distinctly unbound, like someone had run their hands through it. My jaw clenched. My wolf stirred, irritated by the sight. Sophie’s body tensed. Before she could pounce on the professor, I grabbed her arms and gently pushed her toward Luka. “We’ll talk later.” She parted her lips, maybe to scream at me or curse again, but I would never know. I walked out and slammed the door behind me, leaving only Lenora and me in the hallway. “I’m sorry,”

“…and now, on your father’s orders, my responsibility. Of course, I was worried about your absence.” I had to get out of there. I didn’t even remember walking out of the lecture hall—only that my body moved on instinct, carrying me as far from Lenora as possible. Now, standing in the middle of the hallway, I braced myself against the cold wall, pressing my hand over my mouth as my breath came in shaky bursts. Fuck. What the hell was that? My reaction had been completely irrational—volatile. Lenora hadn’t even said anything that should have set me off. It was just a simple statement. But the moment she mentioned my father and called me a “responsibility,” something inside me snapped. It was like a switch flipped, and I’d lost all control. I couldn’t even begin to untangle the mess of emotions swirling inside me. At the time, everything had been in a haze. But now that I was far enough from her, my wolf had retreated, and clarity had hit me like a brick. “Elijah!” Luka’s vo

“For the goddess’s sake! You’d think I was grading the work of kindergarten students, not college seniors!” Morgan exclaimed, leaning back in her chair with an exasperated sigh. I smiled and took a sip of my coffee—extra milk, very little sugar. We were at one of the cafes she had mentioned the first day we met—one of the few that wasn’t overflowing with grouchy older professors. After spending nearly a week here and accidentally walking into Tatianna’s Tarts—the cafe across the street that was the complete opposite—I was beginning to see the importance of that distinction. The sun had barely risen, so the cafe was mostly empty. The few people who were here were professors from other faculties, trying to get their morning coffee while squeezing in some last-minute grading or reviewing material for their upcoming classes. “I still don’t understand why you refuse to get a teaching assistant,” I said, eyeing the large stack of assignments in front of her. “It’d significantly reduce y