Claimed By My Best Friend's Uncle, The Alpha

From the back cover

After being publicly rejected by my intended mate and abandoned by my own father, I got drunk and slept with a stranger.

I thought he was just a Rogue for hire, a nameless body to help me forget the humiliation.

But when I saw the black wolf sigil on his phone the next morning, my blood ran cold.

He was Barron Winters, the legendary Lycan King, and my best friend's terrifying uncle.

Desperate to escape, I tried to insult him by sending a $5,000 payoff note, treating him like a cheap gig.

But my father froze my trust fund, and my emergency work advance was mysteriously denied.

I had no money and nowhere to run.

Then, the new CEO of my company was announced.

It was him.

He cornered me in his massive office, his suffocating Alpha scent wrapping around me.

I panicked, begged, and used every modern excuse to push him away, claiming it was just a meaningless mistake.

But he simply took off his shirt, revealing the deep, angry scratches I had left on his back.

Marks that only a fated mate could ever inflict on an ancient Lycan.

"I need a Luna."

His possessive gaze locked onto me, stripping away all my defenses.

Using the oldest, most absolute werewolf laws, the tyrant king gave me an ultimatum.

Accept my destiny and move into his estate, or he would claim and mark me right there in the office.