Mr. Cruel Alpha And Rejected Omega Swap Lives Novel – OLIVIA WOODLEY I stir in bed. Something feels weirdly off. There’s a freaking heavy weight in my pants. One I’ve never felt before and it’s not the ‘I-ate-too-much-last-night’ kind. I stretch, yawn, body feels weirdly different. My room looks strange. Wait! This isn’t my room, it’s sleek. Smells like pine, leather, and expensive cologne… This is NOT my body. Holy shit I have a dick? Yes, I mean an actual dick. A big one.
I shoot up in bed, frantic. Heart thrashing erratically, the eiderdown slips off a chest that’s not mine, not my usual chest with my two perked up sisters. It’s… muscular. Broad. Way too warm. What in the burning hell is going on? I blink, gulp as I assess my physical features covered in smooth, toned muscles with unbelievable eyes. What. The. Actual. F— What is happening? I scramble to the full-length mirror at the corner of the room, to my horror…Oh. My. Goddess. I’m in his freaking body. Alpha Dexter? “No way.” My palm finds my—his face. I slap it hard. Hard enough to pull me out of this catastrophic nightmare. Then it hits me. Last night, during the New Moon festival, I stood before the glowing MoonSarde Crystal and made a wish that sounded quite impossible. Oh no. I had wished Dexter would feel what it’s like to be me. To be rejected. To hurt.
I wished to possess a strong wolf so no one would ever walk all over me ever again, to have comfort in those luxury fancy things. Maybe this isn’t just some accident. This is magic. Goddess-level magic. And the worst part? I didn’t wish for a swap. I just wanted him to suffer a little. Not…this. Five more slaps, shoot, it’s of no use. I stand there frozen, afraid to even look in those stabbing green eyes. Those menacing eyes that burn with so much fury each time they dart my way. Those beautiful eyes that render me wobbly to my bones. Now I possess those eyes? The high cheekbones. Stubble. Jawline sharp enough to send heat searing my inner thighs. Alpha Dexter, the ruthless, arrogant, drop-dead gorgeous Alpha of the ClawVille Pack. My mate. The mate who didn’t want me, the ugly weakling.
The same one who rejected me three months ago in front of the whole pack like I was some trash. Our brutal alpha who made my miserable life a total dumpster fire ever since my eighteenth birthday. And now I’m wearing his body like some hideous cosplay. A cursed Halloween costume. Muscles, intoxicating scent, power, and yeah, that bulge. It’s real. It’s mine now. Frightening. The thought of touching my pants to find out what exactly is going on down there leaves me panicky. I am not sure if this is one big hallucination or just moments away from grabbing the Alpha by his… Goddess help me.
Just then… The connecting door goes open, in glides Kayla Garfield, our Alpha’s super bitchy girlfriend, the envy of every girl in the pack. High maintenance hellcat wrapped in a white bathrobe that barely clings to her skinny frame. Her blonde tresses fresh out of the shower, tumbles down her back in glossy waves. She’s everything I’m insecure about. Because Kayla Garfield isn’t just a girlfriend. She’s a damn hawk. A spoiled, possessive, manipulative hawk who’s slept beside this body enough times to know exactly how it smells, moves, reacts. One wrong move she’ll know I’m not Dexter.
Her icy blue eyes rake over me with lazy familiarity, and then—ugh—she smiles. “We must’ve slept in,” She purrs, before I can blink, her arms snake around my torso, her body pressing into mine, softly warm. Dangerously close to the very problematic situation happening below my waist, lips out to get mine. Eww! Eww. Eww! I jerk back like I’ve been tasered. “Dex?” She murmurs, brows cocking in confusion, “Are you okay, babe? Babe? My pulse drums in my ears. Olivia Breathe. You’re Alpha Dexter. You’re a smug asshole. You grunt, smirk but do not panic at the scent of ylang-ylang shampoo and sensual body lotion. Beads of perspiration dampen my forehead as her thick lashes hold me under intense study. She’s going to know. Kayla’s going to know I’m an impostor. What do I do? Breathe. Just keep breathing. I try to make my expression into something less ‘unhinged freak’ to more ‘stoic alpha’. “I…I, I just… I think I need to shower. Yeah, shower!” “You’re low-key giving weird weird vibes right now like not-sexy weird.
More like, maybe-you-hit-your-head weird to think you were so blackout drunk last night, didn’t see me. Didn’t even touch me.” She leans into me again, her lips pursing slightly. I back away, barrel toward the slightly open bathroom door like my entire existence depends on it. Well, it might. My quivering fingers find the bathroom lock. I sag against the closed door, gasping. That was close. Too close. Too real. My gaze drifts to the shower. My next panic attack kicks in at the very notion of getting naked. I can’t do it! I mean, I’m curious, obviously. Like, what kind of monster is hiding beneath these sweatpants? I’ve never even seen a live one, let alone been the owner of an entire package. Knock knock knock. “Dex?” Kayla’s voice pierces through the door. “Sure you’re okay in there?” Again? It’s been barely three minutes. How does anyone survive dating her? “I’m fine!” I called out, way too loudly. I wince, then lower my tone to something Dexter-ish. “I’ll be out in a sec.” Which brings me to my next task. Stripping. I dare not.
It will cost me my neck if I dare to strip Alpha Dexter. I’ve never even seen a naked guy, now I’m one. Nope. Not ready. Screw it. We’re doing a birdbath. I strip down to the chiseled waist, keeping the pants firmly in place, scrub at my pits with the edge of a dampened towel. There’s another knock at the door, quite louder this time. “Alpha, the council’s waiting.” Oh, hell. Beta Lance? I forgot. He’s a thing in this world. He’s waiting to escort me to what I’m guessing is a boardroom full of gruff-looking pack elders ready to discuss critical things like outlanders, territories, and murder for sure while I can’t even figure out how to pee in this body without having a full-on breakdown. I yank on a nicely tailored shirt I find in the vast closet. A crisp white one that clings to these insane muscles, paired with blue cute jeans that somehow fit like they were tailor-made just for him. Of course, they were. Kayla is gone from the room as I come out of the closet. Major relief. “Alpha,” Our very tall Beta’s eyes are distant, distracted by his phone, “The Northerners are starting to make trouble…” I blink. Blink again. To think that my day is just getting started. I’m not ready to be Alpha Dexter.