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Ch. 80

Author: Big Queen
last update Petsa ng paglalathala: 2026-04-13 08:42:21

It was three months before they slept in the same bed twice. Maybe it was stubbornness—Carolina’s taste for newness superseding even her craving for comfort—or maybe it was Xander’s dogged need to believe nothing could last, not even safety. So each night was a roulette of roofs: sometimes the cot in the root house, sometimes the tarp beside the irrigation ditches, sometimes the little makeshift nest up in the water tower where, after sundown, the wind made the whole world sway.

They gave in to
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  • Alpha’s Forbidden Mate   Ch. 93

    In the tranquil rot that passed for a summer in the city, Xander and Carolina cleared out the bakery after a day so busy the register jammed, the glass case fogged, and Olivine’s cat stalked off in insult at the lack of attention. They’d taken to closing Mondays as a treat, but it was Sunday, the last rush before their one-day freedom, and for hours it was a parade of the old and young, the odd and worried, city functionaries and outlaws alike, all wanting either cinnamon rolls or a bit of Carolina’s wild advice on the side. When the doors finally locked, Xander let himself fall backward onto the flour-spattered floor, arms out like a man crucified, laughing at the spent, sticky ache in his legs.Carolina dropped beside him, her apron unsnapped and thrown toward the counter, hair matted in a way that made her look both older and more wild. She had a fresh bruise on her mouth from where she’d bitten it yelling at Mira earlier, and she poked at it now with her tongue, frowning.“Do you

  • Alpha’s Forbidden Mate   Ch. 92

    Xander kept the old bakery going, less out of hope than habit. Most mornings he'd set the dough to rise before dawn, and in the hours before the city woke, he'd mix by hand in the orange half-light, huffing yeast and memory. There was never as much to bring to market as they'd planned, but Carolina claimed that was deliberate sabotage, since her favorite part was giving away the leftovers. She’d hawk cinnamon rolls to surly ex-cons and homebound nannies, bartering for gossip and, once, a stray kitten which she immediately named after Olivine (“Ollie” for short, who spent her days perched atop the register, hissing at anyone who wore too much perfume).They tried out new recipes, sometimes from the algae cultures Xander grew in fish tanks, sometimes from scrawled notes left in the bakery’s margins by the building’s former owners. Each time one of his mutant sourdoughs unexpectedly exploded, Carolina would shriek with delight and chase him around the kitchen with a towel. Sometimes he’d

  • Alpha’s Forbidden Mate   Ch. 91

    The next city they fled to was a midwestern honeycomb: old factory blocks softened by prairie, the river slicing through town like a line drawn on lined notebook paper. Xander and Carolina stayed on the move, never in the same safehouse longer than a month, but always rolling together—her the inertia, him the ballast. Olivine and Mira peeled off for a while, chasing their own threads (Detroit for Olivine, supposedly, though the only proof was a postcard scrawled with "Still not arrested" and a picture of ruined cathedrals; Mira enrolled briefly in a night school, then vanished into the hinterlands).Stray mornings, Xander would wake with Carolina hair-tangled and groaning beside him, both half-lost in a memory of warmth. More often it was cots, couches, sometimes a sleeping bag atop bags of sabotaged fertilizer in a friend-of-a-friend's foreclosed garage. He tasted laundry detergent and sweat in his mouth. The air was always a little too dry.Many nights, Carolina would wake him up, v

  • Alpha’s Forbidden Mate   Chapter 90

    The bakery kept them in sourdough and marshmallow buns, and sometimes, in the mornings before anyone else stirred, Carolina and Xander would sneak down to the still-dark storefront and lean against the warm metal of the ovens, listening to the soft, yeasty crackle of the proofing loaves. The oldest baker, Gregor, always showed up at six but never complained about the two squatters, just shook his head and told them, “If you break it, you buy it.” In time, Carolina learned to braid the morning rolls the way Gregor did, and Xander started doing the preps: weighing flour, lining sheets, frosting the donut cakes with a speed that won him grudging respect. It was the closest he’d ever been to a family business.After a few weeks, winter let itself into the city. Frost slicked the lawns and left the window glass sodden with rime. The chill drove the twins into lengthy hibernation, draping themselves in piles of thrifted duvets and passing the time with increasingly baroque card games. Mira,

  • Alpha’s Forbidden Mate   Chapter 89

    In the weeks that followed, Xander and Carolina became a unit, not so much fused as mutually orbiting. Their separate gravities carved out a living arrangement as balanced and temporary as the city itself: some nights together, some apart, some lost in a haze of Rain-fueled heat, others carved out by the sharp demands of simply surviving.They took jobs, not the kinds that lasted but ones that paid in a day—hauling water, recycling copper off old telecoms boards, running errands for the muscle-backed dealers that paid in food or spare parts or, every so often, in the rarest of currencies: information. Carolina, sharp as her namesake winter, ran interference with the street kids and the dogpack gangs. Xander became the house’s unofficial engineer, patching up the dying heater, wiring together a battery bank from a graveyard’s worth of failed electric car cells.The attic was still theirs at night. Some evenings they didn’t come up for air until dawn, bodies slicked with sweat and laugh

  • Alpha’s Forbidden Mate   Ch. 88

    By noon, the city awoke to a yellow boiling haze, and Carolina came in from the yard with her braid unspooled, thrumming with purpose. She scattered garden mud across the tile and went straight for the battered laptop Xander kept on a perpetual trickle charge, careful not to knock the resurrection rig he’d slaved together from breadboards and old drone parts. She shoved aside yesterday’s fingerprints of jam, keyed in the passcode—Xander’s own middle name, which she used as leverage every time they fought—and opened the daily feed. It was mostly trash, as always, but deep in a tangle of market codes and manifestos, a new package had posted. North of the river, on the far side of the arc-light perimeter, someone was trading in “authentic pre-blight pharmaceuticals,” and using a tag that pinged Carolina’s teeth with recognition.Xander, at the stove, coaxing heat from a coil patched together with copper wire and an old fountain pen, heard her bring up the file. The keyboard made a peele

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