Alpha Zac

Ivara’s POV

The steam from the pot burned my hand, but I didn't stop stirring.

Three years today, three years since I became Luna of the Ashveil pack, and still I stood in this kitchen at dawn, cooking for a man who would not sit across from me to eat.

“Luna, the west border patrol needs their schedule approved,” Nessa said, rushing in with a stack of papers. She’s the only maid who still called me Luna like she meant it.

“Leave it on the table.” I wiped my hands on my apron. “I’ll sign it before I check the herb stores.”

“You should be resting today. It’s your anniversary.”

I almost laughed. Resting?

I haven’t rested in three years, I ran this pack from sunrise to sunset while Draven sits in his study with maps and warriors, discussing things I was never invited to discuss.

I handled the omegas’ disputes and I settled the trade with the eastern packs.

I did everything Luna should do, and yet, when the sun went down and Draven finally looked at me, it was only ever in the dark, only ever in our bed, only ever with his hands and never his words.

By evening, my back ached and my feet were swollen from standing.

I sat in my vanity, brushing out my hair, when the door opened without a knock.

Draven never knocked, he owned everything, including me, so why would he?

But tonight something was different, he did not come in with that tired, distracted look he always wears and his eyes found mine in the mirror and stayed there.

“Ivara.” My name in his mouth sounded strange tonight, it was unhurried, it was like he was tasting it.

“My Lord.” I set the brush down. “Is something wrong with the border patrol?”

“Must something be wrong for me to come to my wife?”

I didn't answer that and there was no safe answer.

He crossed the room and knelt behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders, his touch was careful tonight, it was not the rushed grip I was used to.

“Do you know what today is?” he asked.

My chest tightened. “Our anniversary.”

“Three years.” He turned me around gently, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, he looked at my face like he was actually seeing it. Not my usefulness.

Not my body but my face. “I haven’t been a good husband to you.”

My throat closed up and I wanted to say something sharp, something that matched the years of loneliness he gave me, but the words didn't come.

Instead my eyes burned, and I hated myself for how badly I wanted to believe him.

“Draven…”

“Let me show you,” he said, and his voice dropped low, rough at the edges.

“Let me be your husband tonight.”

He kissed me before I could think of anything to say, and it was not like the other nights.

It was not fast or careless and his hands moved like he was memorizing me, like he was sorry, like he was trying to say with his body everything he never said with his mouth.

I let myself sank into it and I let myself hope.

Later, tangled in the sheets with his heartbeat under my ear, I traced small circles on his chest and he didn't pull away.

He then pressed his lips to the top of my head and murmured my name once more before sleep pulled him under.

I lay awake a long time, smiling into the dark, thinking maybe this was it.

Maybe three years of waiting were leading to this one night.

Maybe tomorrow he would hold my hand at breakfast.

Maybe he would finally introduce me as the wife he chose to love, not the wife his father chose for his debt.

I fell asleep hopefully for the first time since my wedding day.

I woke up to an empty bed and a maid telling me the Alpha wanted to see me in his study.

I dressed quickly, humming under my breath, my heart light in a way it had not been in years.

Maybe he wanted to have breakfast together, maybe last night changed something in him the way it changed something in me.

When I walked into his study, Draven was standing by the window, his back to me, his shoulders set like stone.

“You wanted to see me?”

He then turned around, and the man from last night was gone.

His eyes were flat, and distant, it was the same eyes he’s worn for three years, colder now, like last night never happened at all.

“I want a divorce.”

The words didn't make sense at first, I actually laughed, but it was a short broken sound. “What?”

“I’m filing for divorce, Amara. I have already spoken to the pack elders.”

“You…” My mind scrambled, grabbed for last night, for his hands, his mouth against my hair, the way he said my name like it meant something.

“Last night you said…”

“Last night was a mistake.” He didn't even blink. “It won’t happen again.”

My legs felt unsteady beneath me and I pressed my palm against the edge of his desk to stay upright.

“Three years, Draven. Three years I have given this pack. I have given you everything…”

“I know what you have given,” he said, and there was something almost like guilt flickering behind his eyes before it disappeared.

“This isn’t about what you have done wrong.”

“Then what is it about?” My voice cracked. “Tell me. Tell me what I did to deserve this.”

He opened his mouth, but before a single word left it, the door behind me swung open.

I didn't turn around right away, I was too busy staring at Draven, watching the way his whole expression shifts.

The way his eyes lifted past me and softened into something I had never once seen him show me.

Then I heard her voice, it was warm and familiar in a way that made my stomach drop, like she had said his name a thousand times before.

“Draven, my love. I’m finally home.”

I turned slowly, and stood in the doorway, dressed like she belonged in this room more than I ever had, was a woman I had never seen in my life.