The Wolf’s Restraint. (2)

ALPHA GREGORY’s POV.

I laid him on the bed in my room, his hands clumsy as I searched for the worst of his wounds.

Since there was no doctor at the moment, I decided to tend to his wound myself. I stared at him closely to observe where he was hurt.

There was a cut along his temple, bleeding not too much. Bruises kissed his ribs as I took off his clothes. I swallowed hard as I tried not to stare but it was too difficult.

I composed myself then, I went into the bathroom, brought out a clean white cloth, and, filled a small bowl with water.

He’s an Omega and he’s wolfless. Which means, he’s tender. I can’t bring harm while trying to help him. That’s the best thing.

I sat beside him and moved my right hand carefully, practicing cleaning his wounds as if I had done this before.

When the last bandage was secure, he lay back, and for a moment, the lines of pain smoothed from his face. Sleep took him like a tide. In the hush, I found myself watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, the clench of his jaw, the way his lashes cast shadows on his pale skin.

I told myself I was being practical. He needed shelter, food, safety, and the Moon Whisper Pack pressed at our borders; I had responsibility beyond this single vulnerable life. Still, my Wolf moved beneath my skin, restless and expectant. I felt it like an ache I had forgotten I had the right to feel.

I remembered the oath—never to claim again. The memory tasted of iron and old vows. But here, in the soft lamplight, with a stranger sleeping beneath my roof and my hand resting piecewise on the bed’s rough edge as if that were enough, I felt the rules unspool.

How I wish I could see it as a favor to a wounded person.

Yet the thought of leaving him, of walking away from the scent that had already rooted itself in my lungs, felt impossible.

Hours later, Mateo finally stumbled in waking me from my sleep.

He glanced at me, a single raised brow asking the question we both knew but had not spoken. I flexed my fingers and felt the pulse of something alive beneath my skin.

“I was just helping,” I said finally, breaking the silence. My voice was quiet. He looked at me, not convinced. “For now.”

I did not know how long “for now” would last. But the Wolf in me prowled with a patience I hadn’t allowed in years, and a new, dangerous hope breathed through that restraint.

“I don’t mind, Gregory.” Mateo called me by name for the first time in years. He went on his knees and brushed his fingers across my thighs. “You have to let the past stay in the past.”

“But I don’t know him. That was how it started the first time.” I said.

“There’s always a chance for something great and different.” He said, his voice gentle. “I can see how you’ve cared for him. If not love, at least, it’s glad to see your old self coming back again.”

Mateo brushed a smile and he went ahead to get some food. As I ate, I still couldn't take my eyes off the Omega on the bed. He looked so handsome and breathtakingly hot that my eyes burned from staring.

I finished eating and Mateo packed the plates, wishing me “good night” in a teasing voice. I rolled my eyes before I started taking off my clothes gradually, backing the Omega.

When I was done, I glanced over my shoulder to see him still in the same position. I walked into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and opened it.

The water struck like winter rain, a thousand needles waking every inch of my skin. For a moment, I allowed it. I needed the cold. It kept my Wolf quiet. It kept my thoughts from circling back to the figure lying unconscious in the other room.

Steam climbed the stone walls, turning the air heavy. I leaned both hands on the tile, head bowed, and closed my eyes. The sound of water swallowed everything except the rhythm of my own breathing that was steady, then stopped as my thought drifted back to the Omega.

I should have been thinking about the council, about war, about anything but him. Yet behind my eyelids I saw again the pale curve of his neck, the way his pulse had fluttered when I had carried him in. The memory pressed against my mind, soft and dangerous.

My Wolf stirred. “Touch him,” he whispered. “Make sure to do that. I want him.”

I drew a sharp breath and forced the thought away, but it lingered like heat that refused to fade. The cold water wasn’t helping anymore; it traced down my spine in slow rivers, and each drop felt like a reminder that I was still made of need.

When had I last wanted something this simple—to reach, to feel, to be seen? Control had always been easier than wanting something. Not after you’ve been hurt. But the moment I had caught his scent, the armor I’ve built over years had begun to crack.

I turned off the shower. For a heartbeat, silence filled the room. My Wolf inside me paced, restless, for the sound of another heartbeat.

Out in the chamber beyond the door, I could hear his faint breathing.

I dried my hair, dragging air into my lungs until it steadied. The mirror caught my reflection: water on my shoulders, the tired lines around my mouth, the eyes of a man who hadn’t truly rested in years. And beneath all that, a spark of something new. Not lust, but a kind of gravity pulling me toward the strange Omega.

I clenched my jaw, turned from the mirror, and let the last drops fall from my fingers. “You don’t need this,” I muttered to the empty room.

But as I stepped back into the cool air of the room, the strong scent of the Omega filled my nose. My nose flared. My breath hitched. And my… My cock twitched.

Damn.

I looked at the bed. He wasn’t there. He was gone. My heart skipped a beat as I wondered where he disappeared to.

Narrowing my eyes to the glass window side, I saw him standing there, staring into the night. My eyes rolled below, landing on his ass. It measured the bubble butt as every piece of restraint in me trembled.