Reborn to Seduce My Mate's Brother

The moon hung low, a silver scythe slicing through the mist over Bashington Manor.

Tom Bashington sat across from me, his hands trembling as he poured brandy-though his smile was as polished as the mahogany table between us.

"My love," he said, voice too smooth, "you deserve a night to remember."

Little did I feign ignorance of the shadow lurking in the east wing: his twin, Caleb.

Tom's infertility was a secret sewn into the silk of our bond, but his solution was a monster's pact. That night, when I slipped into the darkened bedroom, it wasn't Tom's hands that pinned me to the sheets.

They were rougher, calloused.

His breath was warm against my neck.

I arched beneath him, pretending the shudder that ran through me was pleasure.

The next morning, I found Tom in the library, staring at a portrait of his ancestors.

His face was as pale as the canvas, but I sashayed over, trailing a hand along his shoulder. "Darling," I cooed, loud enough for the servants to hear,

"you were... extraordinary last night."

My voice dropped to a purr.

"I've never felt so... claimed."

Tom flinched, his knuckles white on the armrest.

Then, he turned, eyes haunted by a desperate hope.

"Tell me," he whispered, voice cracking,

"do you love the man who holds you gently by day... or the beast who ravages you in the dark?"

I leaned in, pressing my lips to his cold cheek, and felt his whole body tense.

"Oh, Tom," I breathed, looping my arm through his .

"By day, I love your kindness." My smile turned wicked. "But at night? I crave the wildness only a... predator can give."

...

Brother, this was personally brewed by Jane Cage. Do try it!" Tom Bashington's voice sliced through the thick, charged air like a rusted blade.

My head snapped up, as if pulled by an invisible force, and I fixed my gaze on Danzel across the table.

The crystal chandelier above convulsed with a sudden, jagged burst of light, as if struck by an invisible bolt of lightning, casting Danzel in a stark, otherworldly glow.

And then it hit me: I'd been reborn.

In my past life, Tom, plagued by infertility, had spiked his brother's food.

He wanted Danzel to impregnate me, to secure an heir that would help him wrest control of the pack fortune from their elders.

Once he used my pregnancy to seize Bashington pack heirs, he'd thrown me into a ice cell. There, he'd tormented me daily-until his mistress threw wolfsbane acid in my face, screaming the truth: the child was Danzel's.

To Tom, we were abominations, proof of his own inadequacy.

I'd burned the ice cell then, trapping Tom and his lover in the inferno.

We'd all perished-but not before I saw Danzel fight through the flames, his form shifting in the smoke.

"Jane!" he'd howled, claws tearing at the burning beams.

"Hold on! I'm here!" His wolfish strength had tried to carry me out, but the fire was too fierce.

As the world went dark, his furred arms had crushed me close, his final words a growl against my skin: "I love you, Jane... always."

"Brother, eat up!"

Tom's voice cut through the memory, his tone too sweet. "Don't waste Jane's hard work."

I looked at his eager face and felt a surge of nausea.

That oat milk was meant for him-yet he played it off as a gift for Danzel.

Last time, I'd thought it brotherly love.

Now I saw the plan: the oat milk was wolf drugged.

"Is that so?" Danzel's gaze flicked to me, his pupils dilating slightly as he caught my scent.

"If Jane made it..." He lifted the spoon, but paused.

This time, instead of stopping him, I smiled softly, my voice like honey.

"If you like it, there's more."

Tom's smile faltered, his hand tightening on the table.

Danzel, however, froze, his eyes locking onto mine.

For a moment, the air crackled-between us, a silent understanding.

In the dead of night, as I padded past the study after my shower, a sliver of milky light seeped through the door.

Keira Knightley, Tom Bashington's childhood sweetheart, was perched on his desk, twirling his tie between her fingers.

"Tom, you're really going to let your brother sleep with Jane Cage?"

she purred, tracing the line of his jaw.

"I remember how hard you chased her. Now you're just giving her up?"

Tom's hand clamped around her waist, yanking her close for a bruising kiss on her scarlet lips. "You can't catch a wolf without bait. I've always been in my brother's shadow. If I don't give father a great-grandchild first, he'll never look my way."

"Besides, Jane's nothing special. Not like you-you're wild, a true she-wolf."

Their lewd chuckles echoed as they tangled together.

I clenched my fists, rage searing my throat.

But I knew better than to confront him.

The Bashingtons were ruling pack, and I was just a penniless she wolf.

Tom could crush me like a flea-last life proved that, when his men dragged me back from every escape.

Hugging the wall, I slipped back to my room.

Tom had no qualms canoodling with Keira while I bathed-clear proof I wasn't his mate, just a pawn.

The memory of fire consuming my skin surged back, stoking the hate in my gut.

After drying my hair, I curled under the covers, resolve hardening in my eyes.

Soon, staggered footsteps echoed in the hall.

"Whoa, bro, wrong door! This way!"

Tom half-carried Danzel into my room, grinning at my curled form and the empty milk glass on the nightstand.

" Get some rest."

The mattress dipped beside me, bringing a whiff of citrus.

Tom shut the door, but the moment he left, Danzel bolted upright, staring at the ceiling.

He'd drunk the oat milk laced with moon flower-why wasn't he drugged?

Pretending to wake, I opened eyes,voice slurred:

"Tom, finally! I was scared alone."

I flung my arms around him, feeling his body go rigid.

He didn't push me away, his muscles taut under my touch.

Was he playing along because.

Why else would he have died with me?

I had to seize this.

My lips ghosted along the rough stubble of his jaw.

I tilted my head up, my breath mingling with his as I murmured, "Tom, I want-"​

His eyes flared, molten lava igniting in the depths of his irises.

In a swift, fluid motion, he seized my chin between his thumb and forefinger, the gentle yet firm grip sending a thrill coursing through me.

"What did you call me?" His voice was a low, dangerous purr, vibrating against my lips.​

"T - Tom?" I stammered, my voice betraying the sudden hitch in my breath as his thumb traced the outline of my lower lip.​

"Call me brother."

His command rumbled from deep within his chest, a primal growl that resonated through my entire body.

His gaze locked onto mine, intense and possessive, as if he could see straight into the depths of my soul.​

When I hesitated, caught in the intoxicating web of his presence, he leaned in closer.

His lips brushed against mine, a feather - light touch that made my heart skip a beat.

Then, he nipped at my lip, his teeth applying just enough pressure to make me gasp.

The sensation was a delicious blend of pain and pleasure, his breath hot and insistent against my mouth.

"Say it, and it's yours," he whispered, his words a seductive promise that sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.​

My cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and desire.

I bit my lip, my eyes fluttering closed as I finally surrendered.

"Brother."

I breathed, the word a soft, trembling sigh.​

That single word was the spark that ignited the inferno.

His grip on my chin tightened, and a low, satisfied growl rumbled from his throat.

In that moment, I was consumed by the overwhelming heat and intensity of the moment, lost in a sea of passion and longing.

He slammed his mouth to mine, wolfish hunger in every kiss.

His hands tore at my pajama,fingers-digging into my waist as he flung me onto the bed.

The scent of citrus vanished, replaced by a primal musk, his eyes darkening to the color of midnight fur.

Moonlight poured through the window, highlighting the feral edge of his grin.

And as his teeth grazed my neck, I knew: the potion hadn't failed. He'd let it happen.