Knotted By The Devilish Alpha Brothers

He continued, his smile widening. “That’s what I already planned to do. But the two of you are welcome to come along. Strength in numbers and all that.”

Dean’s expression flattened. “I’m not seducing any freakshow.”

Reid raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

Dean gave him the cold look. “Are you seriously asking that? This isn’t the first time you’ve come up with one of these ridiculous ideas, and it never ends well. For any of us.”

Enzo’s voice cut in. “Dean’s right. I’ve had enough of that approach.”

Claire folded her arms, clearly unimpressed with the entire direction of the conversation. “You also can’t ask me to hypnotize her so you can control her autonomy whenever it suits you. We’ve gone down that road before. It ended with a corpse, and all of you know exactly how long it took for that mess to quiet down. If not for your mother, you would have been hanged.”

Enzo didn’t argue. Instead he opened a drawer, withdrew a folded document, and set it on the desk. The contract Amelia had signed. Claire stepped closer and scanned the pages, her eyes moving quickly. Her eyebrows rose.

“You made your wife a slave?”

Reid’s replied. “She was a slave before we made her our wife.”

“I’m not interested in explaining the history. ” Enzo spoke business-like. “This could be another option. You can enchant the contract. That would give us a measure of control over her without repeating the same mishap as last time.”

Claire was silent for a moment, eyes still on the paper. “I suppose that could work.”

Inwardly, however, she already knew the truth. She couldn’t do it. Amelia was already under an enchantment she had already placed. Layering a second binding spell on top of the first was a dangerous idea. The results could be unpredictable at best, catastrophic at worst.

***

A palpable stillness hung in amelia’s room. m

Skye stood near the window with her arms crossed, staring at Amelia hard enough to give her goosebumps. ’. “How did you do that?”

Amelia sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her own hands as if they might offer answers. She turned them over, palms up, then palms down. Nothing. Just skin and bone and the heavy tremble of exhaustion.

She was tired of repeating the same denial. Tired of saying she hadn’t done anything when the glowing hair and the ice storm said otherwise. Accepting it felt impossible.

She had lived her entire life almost like a human—no wolf, no spark of power, nothing but stubborn will and careful planning. And now, suddenly, she was supposed to believe she could change the weather?

Why didn’t it ever show before?

Why now?

Why only after I walked myself into this nightmare?

The questions wouldn’t leave her alone, each one cutting deeper than the last. She kept playing out the what-ifs. If these powers had shown up years ago, everything changes. People actually respect her. And Dylan… maybe he would have actually loves her instead of using her.

The thought of him sent a sharp ache through her chest. She pressed her fingers against her sternum as if she could push the feeling back down. Stop thinking about him. But the wound was still fresh, still raw. And now, on top of everything else, she had to wrestle with the possibility that she had been capable of so much more all along.

It still wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

“Amelia.” Skye’s voice cut through the spiral, sharp and insistent. “Have you been listening at all? I’ve been talking to you for five minutes.”

Amelia lifted her head, expression closed off, walls firmly in place. “I don’t want to hear another word. Shouldn’t you be preparing me for the ceremony instead of this?” She gestured vaguely at herself, at the room, at everything. “Isn’t that your job?”

Skye’s eyes narrowed. “This is part of it. I’m starting to see a connection, Amelia. And you need to hear me out.”

Amelia frowned. “What connection?”

“You can change the weather.” Skye held up a finger, counting off. “And those strange, unnatural storms have already happened twice—both times in places where you were present. The first was at Dylan’s wedding. The second was at your college. And now this ice storm in the forest. Every single one of them occurred right where you were present”

Amelia’s stomach tightened as the implication settled like a stone in her gut. She shook her head immediately. “No.” Her voice rose.” Those storms didn’t look anything like what happened in the forest. They were different. That’s not the same as ice raining from the sky. It’s not me.”

Skye gave a small, unconvinced shrug. “Yeah. Maybe. But you should still think about it.”

Amelia did think about it—and the more she did, the more unsettled she became. The thoughts circled like vultures, each one picking at a different piece of her composure.

During both of those earlier storms I felt something pour out of me. At the time I blamed it on heartbreak, on the sheer weight of everything collapsing at once. But only a few hours ago, when death had felt close enough to taste, that same sensation had surged through me again.

She pressed her palms against her eyes, as if she could physically push the thoughts away. Gosh. This is terrible. This is actually terrible.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. She forced down enough food to keep Skye from commenting, the flavors bland and forgettable on her tongue. She absently ruffled Swifty’s soft feathers for a sense of calm, the bird’s gentle trill offering a small anchor in the chaos. Then she sat with a book she never truly read, the words sliding off her mind without leaving a mark.

When she finally checked the time, it was already 10 p.m.

Sleep refused to come. Eventually she crossed to the cupboard and took out the small jar of sleeping pills. Her hand hesitated, hovering over the lid.

The last time I took one, I broke a door handle and walked into Dean’s room with my eyes closed. I woke up on the floor with no memory of any of it.

She stared at the jar.

There probably isn’t any connection. I just need to sleep.

She swallowed the tablet, returned to bed, and whispered a quiet goodnight to Swifty before the drug pulled her under.

Less than four hours later, her body sat up on its own.

A soft, familiar smile curved her lips even though her eyes remained closed. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and rose.

“My little boys have planned a surprise for me…”