The Warmth of the Lap Dog

Violet:

I woke slowly, wrapped in a warmth I hadn’t ever experienced before. I was so comfortable, so content that I didn’t open my eyes at first. Instead, I catalogued myself, my shields, my aura, Neoma. 

“Don’t wake the Alpha. His power drained him, and he needs the rest.” Neoma said softly as if anyone could hear her but me. 

It was then I realized I was wrapped in sheets that smelled like Aleric, lying in a bed far too big for just me. But it was the weight draped across my body that stilled me. 

I could feel his hand on my ribs beneath my shirt, I could feel the warmth of his breath on my stomach, and the tickle of his hair on my skin. I opened my eyes then, looking at this amazing creature in a sleep so sound it nearly stole my breath. 

I couldn’t help but reach down and push a stray strand of hair from his eyes. 

“What is his power, Neoma?” The curiosity had gotten the better of me. 

“Restoration…” She paused a good long while, I could feel her pondering on what she was about to say next. 

“Well?” I asked, sensing there was something she wasn’t telling me. 

“I have never seen someone with restoration that could bring the dead back to life.” my eyebrows knitted together at that. Truly, I didn’t know enough about lycans, or the extent of their magic, to make a call on what Neoma had said, so I asked, “Are we in danger?” She snorted.

“With Aleric? No.” She chuffed. 

“What’s so funny?” I wish I could pet her, feel my fingers in her fur, something. 

“I can’t speak for you, I only know this, I like being at the alpha’s side,” Admittedly, I felt the same way, but I didn’t know how to vocalize that feeling yet. 

“What does that mean for us, Neoma?” I asked her, needing to understand where her thoughts lay with Aleric.

“It means, Violet, that we are right where we are supposed to be,” My face burned at Neoma’s words. 

Right where we are supposed to be… with the Alpha’s head resting against my stomach, his arm heavy around my waist, my fingers still tangled in his dark hair. 

I looked down at him again, trying to reconcile this version of Aleric with the male I had watched command a battlefield hours before. The warrior who stood unshaken in chaos, who could silence an entire territory with a single look. That same male was sleeping against me, so unguarded in my presence.

There was no dominance carved into his features now, no sharp calculation behind his closed eyes. His brow was smooth, his jaw slack with exhaustion, his breathing deep and even in a way that told me just how far he had pushed himself. He had drained his power for them, for Darkwater, and somewhere in that sacrifice, for me.

My fingers moved without thought, brushing lightly through his hair. The strands were thicker than I expected, warm from his skin. He made a small sound in his sleep, something soft and rumbling, not quite a growl, not quite a sigh, and instinctively he shifted closer. His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me more firmly beneath him. I stilled, afraid of waking him, but he didn’t stir beyond that. Instead, he buried his face slightly deeper into the fabric of my shirt, his breath warm against my skin, and something inside my chest tightened before thundering hard.

He wasn’t holding me like an Alpha claiming territory; he was holding me like a man who needed anchoring. It was almost like I was the one keeping him tethered to the world after everything he had poured into it.

Carefully, I slid my arm around his shoulders and let my palm rest between his shoulder blades. Even in sleep, the strength there was, sheer power coiled beneath muscle and bone. 

“Restoration,” I whispered to myself. The word felt too small for what I had witnessed. I remembered the light pouring from him, the way the earth had answered his call, the way death itself had recoiled… and I remembered the answering pull inside me, the way my own power had surged toward his.

“You felt it too,” Neoma murmured.

“Yes,” I admitted.

It hadn’t only been awe that I had felt. It had been the connection he and I share, those moments when our shields touch. 

When his magic rose, something in me had reached for it instinctively, and the force of it had nearly torn me apart. My fingers traced slow circles against his back, and his body responded with another subtle press closer, a faint rumble vibrating through his chest and into my ribs.

“He is stronger because we are here,” Neoma said quietly, as if she were deep in thought.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You anchored him,” she said too quick making my throat tighten.

Aleric shifted again, lifting his head just enough for his forehead to brush against my stomach before he exhaled and settled higher against me, his cheek now resting just beneath my ribs. 

The movement felt deliberate, even in sleep, as if his body knew exactly where it wanted to be. My heart pounded too loudly in the quiet room as I smoothed my hand back into his hair, combing through it the way one might soothe something wild.

I was still stroking my fingers through his hair when he shifted. This time, it wasn’t the small, unconscious adjustments he’d been making before. This was heavier. His brow pulled together faintly, his lashes fluttering just enough to show a sliver of gold beneath before they fell shut again. 

A quiet sound left him, something between a sigh and a low, tired growl, and his arm tightened around my waist as if he were afraid I might disappear.

“Aleric?” I whispered, barely breathing the word.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed himself up on one forearm, movements slow and uncoordinated with exhaustion. He looked nothing like the commanding Alpha of Darkwater. His hair was tousled, falling into his eyes, and his expression was unfocused and heavy with drained power. He blinked once at me as though trying to remember where he was, maybe even who I was. Then recognition softened him.

“Violet,” he murmured, voice rough and low.

He didn’t ask if I was alright like I expected, he just exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for hours. Before I could say anything else, he shifted again, and this time he climbed fully into the bed. Not beside me. No… I could have understood that, instead, he climbed on top of me.

I let out a small, startled breath as his large frame settled over mine, careful but heavy, like an enormous wolf convinced it was the size of a house cat. One knee slid between my legs, one arm braced briefly near my shoulder, and then he lowered himself with absolutely no shame about the fact that he was very much an Alpha and very much using me as a mattress.

“Aleric,” I whispered again, half laughing, half stunned.

He made a soft, dismissive sound against my skin, already giving up the effort of being awake.

He shifted once more, nudging closer until his chest pressed to mine as he lowered himself, and then his face found my stomach beneath the hem of my shirt, and he settled there. His breath was warm as it fanned across my skin. I stilled when he inhaled deeply, like he was memorizing my scent, like it was the only thing tethering him to the world.

His full weight melted into me, boneless with his exhaustion. One arm slid around my waist again, the other tucked possessively beneath my back as if ensuring I couldn’t slip away even if I tried. His fingers flexed once at my side, then stilled.

I stared at the ceiling for a long second, blinking in disbelief.

The Alpha of Darkwater, the male who had just restored an entire territory and brought the dead back to life, was currently sprawled across me like an oversized lap dog who had decided I was his favorite place in the world.

Neoma huffed softly in my mind.

“I like him,” she said.

“I can’t breathe,” I whispered back, though there was no real complaint in it.

His breathing deepened almost instantly, slow and steady. Every exhale warmed my stomach. Every inhale pressed him more firmly into me, as if he needed something solid to rest against after pouring himself into the earth.

Carefully, I slid my hands up his back, fingers threading into his hair again. He responded with a low, content rumble vibrating through his chest and into mine. 

“You are impossible,” I murmured softly. Still, he didn’t stir. If anything, he pressed closer, and despite the fact that I should have felt trapped under his weight, I didn’t. I felt… chosen.

I kept my fingers moving through his hair, slow and steady, until I became aware of the faint chill beneath his skin. Even under the weight of him, even wrapped in warmth and blankets, there was a coolness clinging to his back that hadn’t been there before. It was the cost of what he had done. Restoration might bring life back to others, but it leeched from him in return.

Carefully, I shifted beneath him. He made a soft, displeased sound when I moved, his arm tightening instinctively, but he didn’t wake. “Easy,” I murmured, more to myself than to him.

His shirt was still on, rumpled and slightly damp with sweat from the strain of magic. The fabric clung to his back, trapping the lingering cold against his skin. Without overthinking it, I slid my hands beneath the hem and pushed it up slowly. He stirred, lifting just enough in half-sleep to let me tug the shirt over his shoulders. It took more effort than I expected; he was all solid muscle and dead weight crushing me beneath him, but eventually the fabric came free.

He barely reacted beyond a low hum of approval.

His bare back was warm in places, chilled in others, the muscles there defined and powerful even in rest. Faint scars marked his skin, some I assumed were from older battles, older sacrifices. I let my palms settle there gently, spreading warmth into him, rubbing slow circles along his spine.

The response was immediate.

A deep rumble vibrated through his chest, softer than before, almost content. He shifted again, climbing more fully over me as though he could not get close enough, his cheek pressing back into my stomach.

His back finally began to warm beneath my hands, the lingering chill fading as I continued rubbing slow, steady circles along his spine, one of his legs hooked around mine, anchoring himself like an enormous wolf afraid I might slip away in the night.

The door opened, but I did not notice at first. It was the sharp intake of breath that made me look up.

Asher stood just inside the room, and he looked like someone had just been told the moon had fallen from the sky. His eyes moved slowly from Aleric’s bare back under my hands, to the way the Alpha was sprawled completely on top of me, to his face buried against my stomach, and finally to the arm locked tight around my waist.

He blinked once. Then again.

“What?” I asked flatly as heat crawled up my neck.

Aleric, utterly oblivious, shifted at the sound of another male in the room. A low, possessive rumble rolled from his chest. It was not aggressive, but it carried enough warning. His grip tightened, and his fingers flexed at my side as if he intended to drag me further beneath him.

Asher’s mouth actually fell open.

“I have seen that male stand in the middle of a battlefield with his ribs exposed and not flinch,” he said slowly, still staring. “I have seen him refuse healers while bleeding out because he claimed he did not have time.”

His gaze dropped again to where Aleric’s face was pressed into my shirt.

“I have never seen him cling to anyone. Ever.”

I swallowed but kept rubbing his back. I suspected that if I stopped, he would wake just to protest.

Asher took another step into the room, disbelief etched into every line of his face. “He is on top of you.”

“I am aware,” I muttered.

“He does not do this,” Asher continued, almost to himself. “He does not let anyone see him drained. He does not let anyone close enough to touch him after restoration. He locks himself away.”

As if to contradict that statement entirely, Aleric shifted again and climbed slightly higher over me in his sleep. His hand slid more firmly around my waist, his palm flattening against my lower back as if I were something precious he refused to lose. Another deep, satisfied rumble vibrated through him as my fingers traced down his spine.

Asher stared as though he were witnessing a historical event.

“That male once broke a cadet’s wrist for slapping him on the back without permission,” he said, pointing vaguely at the massive Alpha currently acting like an overgrown lap dog.

I could not help it. A small, breathy laugh escaped me.

Asher looked personally offended by the entire scene. “And you are just petting him like some big dog.”

Aleric made another soft, pleased sound and pressed his cheek more firmly into my stomach.

Asher dragged a hand down his face. “I am never going to let him live this down,” he muttered. Then, louder and incredulous, he added, “He is purring.”

“He is not,” I whispered defensively.

A low, unmistakable rumble rolled through Aleric again.

Asher froze. “He is purring.”

The way Asher looked at us made my face burn red hot.

“I have known that male for decades,” Asher said slowly, shaking his head. “Decades. And I have never seen him react to a female like this.”

At the word female, Aleric shifted faintly in his sleep. His brow tightened as if he objected to the term even unconsciously.

Asher’s eyes widened further. “He can hear me.”

“He can. He is just exhausted,” I said softly, smoothing my hands up his back again. His breathing deepened instantly under my touch.

“That is exactly the point,” Asher replied quietly. “He only ever shows that kind of exhaustion to Russ or me.”

His gaze softened just slightly as he looked between us. “You are under him like he is afraid the world is going to steal you.”

I did not know how to respond to that, but Aleric answered for me.

His arm tightened again, pulling me flush against him. A quiet rumble of warning vibrated in his chest as if daring anyone to try.

Asher raised both hands. “Relax, Your Majesty. I am not taking her.” The rumble faded slightly.

Asher let out a stunned breath and shook his head once more. “This is new. This is very new.”

He glanced at me one last time, something close to awe replacing the shock. “Whatever you did, it is the first time I have ever seen him choose softness.”

With that, he backed toward the door slowly, as though retreating from something sacred or dangerous.

The door shut quietly behind him.

And the Alpha of Darkwater, conqueror of death and fire, continued to sleep on top of me like an oversized, possessive pup, utterly unbothered and completely unwilling to let go.