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NINE: Grocery Shopping

Author: Circeleari
last update Last Updated: 2025-06-12 23:58:33

I never thought doing dishes would give me anxiety, but here I am, wrist-deep in suds, heart slamming against my ribs like it’s trying to file a fucking police report.

The sun spills across the sink as a golden crime scene tape. The air smells like pepper, eggs, and betrayal, and we just finished eating.

Dante Morelli—Alpha King, certified monster, my “husband”—is humming behind me. Humming. Still shirtless. Still in those goddamn low-hanging black shorts that show off every inch of his torso though it’s a fucking crime to look that good. Spoiler alert—it should be.

And he cooked.

He. Cooked. For me.

Which shouldn’t make me feel anything except alarm bells because Alpha Kings don’t do domestic shit like chop onions and taste their sauce on the tip of a goddamn wooden spoon.

So why the hell does he cook better than me?

Why does he flip pancakes as if he’s a man who’s done it every Sunday of his life when I know his Sundays were more bloodbath than brunch?

Why do I want him to do it aga
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  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   THIRTY-FOUR: Tied

    My neck burns.It’s the first thing I feel before the rest of the pain crawls up from my spine like fire ants gnawing through my nerves. My throat is dry, my mouth tastes like metal, and my limbs—fuck. My limbs won’t move.I blink hard against the dark. There’s no light but only the moonshine pouring in from the cracked glass window, and I swear I can hear my own pulse echoing in the silence. I think I’m still at the house.I try to sit up.My left hand immediately jerks.But it doesn’t go anywhere.Panic swells in my chest, immediate and animal.What the hell?My gaze drops to my wrist. It’s . . . tied?Rough, thick rope—probably torn from the storage closet in the hallway—twists around my hand, knotted tightly against the bedpost. I try the other hand. Same. One foot. Same.Oh my god.No. No no no no no—It hits me all at once, crashing into my chest like a truck.The chase.The bite.The voice.He remembers.My pulse stutters. Cold sweat coats my back, and I pull against the restra

  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   THIRTY-THREE: I Always Did

    The house is colder than I remember.Not temperature-wise. Not really. But that stillness, that off quiet that wraps around me when I open the door sinks its claws right into my chest. It’s as though something’s already here. Watching.I’m having delusions.I kick it shut behind me and press my back to the door. My fingers are still clenched around the car keys Rafe gave me. I don't realize it until I feel the edge of the key biting into the meat of my palm. I let go. They fall to the floor with a dull clatter.I stare at them for a second.Then I move.I move straight up the stairs, two at a time. The wood creaks beneath my boots. There’s no time to hesitate now. This isn’t about second-guessing. It’s about getting out before the sick, twisted pull I feel every time I think about him drags me back in.I march into the bedroom and drop to my knees, yanking out the two luggages from under the bed. One big. One small. One for clothes. One for the things I said I’d never pack.The zipper

  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   THIRTY-TWO: Leaving

    The door slams behind me.Cold air smacks my face and everything I’ve been holding in rips out of me. It’s as if my lungs finally decide they can breathe, but all it does is let the sobs through. My legs give out for a second. I grab the stone column by the door so I don’t collapse right here in front of everyone.I can still hear him. Even out here. That voice calling my name, over and over, like it’s carved into me now. My chest burns like I swallowed fire. He knew. I swear he fucking knew even as it was happening. That I let it happen. That it was me.And he still said my name.My hands cover my mouth, but it doesn’t do anything to muffle the ugly, loud, gasping sound that comes out. Tears blur the world. My nose is running. I wipe it with my sleeve, because what else is left to ruin tonight?Goddess, I did this.I stand there in that mess for—I don’t know—maybe ten seconds, maybe a whole year, before headlights cut across the front of the restaurant. A black car pulls up too fast,

  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   THIRTY-ONE: I'm Sorry

    I can feel my pulse in my fingertips as I stare at the soup. It’s steaming, fragrant, harmless-looking, like any normal goddamn soup. Nobody here would know it could put down a wolf twice Dante’s size.His hand tightens over mine. “What’s wrong?” he asks, tilting his head, crimson eyes cutting straight through me. There’s no suspicion in them, just worry. Which makes it worse. Makes me want to crawl out of my own skin.I force a shaky smile. “Nothing.”He lifts a brow, glances at the spoon, then at me. “Then why are you staring at the food like it murdered someone?”Because it’s about to. Not kill. But close enough.He lets go of my hand and picks up the spoon. I watch him bring it up to his mouth.Panic bolts through me. I grab his wrist.“Wait.”His eyebrows pull together. “Eris—”“Don’t. Not yet.” My voice cracks. Fuck. Pull it together.I can feel eyes on me from across the room. I don’t need to look. It’s the waiter from earlier. The one who helped set this all up. He’s probably

  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   THIRTY: Betraying Him

    Her stare doesn’t move.And mine doesn’t either.Not when her perfectly manicured claws curl around her arm and as she rakes her gaze over Dante like she’s peeling his skin off with her eyes. Every inch of me is screaming, but my body is pinned between Dante and the cold tile, his weight keeping me upright. His breath is hot where it ghosts over my neck, his mouth wet against my skin.And she’s staring at me like I’m a bug as she doesn’t know her fiance fucks like an animal.His back is still on her and whatever I just did licking him down and covering him with my scent must have worked as she might be suspicious, but she’s not interrupting us nor claiming back what’s hers.Yeah? Stare, bitch. Stare harder.“Ah! Harder!” I moan even more, groaning as Dante’s thick and hard as fuck length slides out and pushes back hard, hitting whatever’s the end of my walls. Shit, everything feels like it’s being drilled out of me.My thighs clamp tighter around Dante’s hips as I dig my nails into hi

  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   TWENTY-NINE: Staring Contest

    Dante’s hand is warm on my thigh, his thumb rubbing the same spot as though he owns it.He notices everything—except the fact that my stomach is folding in on itself right now.I can feel her eyes still on us from across the room.That woman.Her.The one I’m not supposed to ever cross paths with.Fuck, just why did he have to have a freaking Goddess for a fiancee?My gaze locks with hers again and she leans in to say something to the friends at her table. I see the shift in their posture, and I fucking know they’re all preparing to stand up and walk over here.Panic spikes in my chest, sharp and absolutely ugly.No, no, no. Not here. Not tonight.Dante tilts his head. “What are you staring at, piccola?”Shit.His head starts to turn toward her, but I grab his hand under the table so fast I nearly knock over my water glass. This stops him from looking their way.“Bathroom,” I blurt out, and force out a shaky laugh. “I need to go to the bathroom. Come with me.”One of his eyebrows goes

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