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Chapter 95 - Searching For What Clicks
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2025-12-03 23:26:44
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The Wrong Mate, The Right Alpha Chapter 140 — Quiet Things That Endure
Chapter 140 — Quiet Things That Endure Damon's POV Peace is a strange thing. It never announces itself. It does not arrive with ceremony or promise permanence. It slips in sideways between duties between breaths almost daring you to notice it before it vanishes again. Today I notice. I wake to it.Mara still slept beside me with her breathing regular, one hand curled near her face. The morning light creeps through the curtains. Soft. Warm. For once there's no urgency. No crisis pulling me from bed. Just this. I steal her. Not dramatically. Not with declarations or guards scattering in our wake. Just a quiet order to the estate I will be gone for the afternoon and Mara's surprised smile when I offer her my hand like I'm not an Alpha and she is not the axis my world has decided to turn on. "A date?" she asks eyes bright with something softer than strategy. "Yes," I say. "Before someone tries to kill you again." She snorts. "Romantic." "I have layers." She laughs and takes m
The Wrong Mate, The Right Alpha Chapter 140 — Quiet Things That Endure
Chapter 140 — Quiet Things That Endure Damon's POV Peace is a strange thing. It never announces itself. It does not arrive with ceremony or promise permanence. It slips in sideways between duties between breaths almost daring you to notice it before it vanishes again. Today I notice. I wake to it.Mara still slept beside me with her breathing regular, one hand curled near her face. The morning light creeps through the curtains. Soft. Warm. For once there's no urgency. No crisis pulling me from bed. Just this. I steal her. Not dramatically. Not with declarations or guards scattering in our wake. Just a quiet order to the estate I will be gone for the afternoon and Mara's surprised smile when I offer her my hand like I'm not an Alpha and she is not the axis my world has decided to turn on. "A date?" she asks eyes bright with something softer than strategy. "Yes," I say. "Before someone tries to kill you again." She snorts. "Romantic." "I have layers." She laughs and takes m
The Wrong Mate, The Right Alpha Chapter 139 — The Currency of Want
Mara Morning tastes like honey and warmth. Not the kind born of victory or relief those are sharp intoxicating but the quiet sweetness of survival. Of choosing each other before the world intrudes again. Of waking beside him and knowing we fought for this. That we earned it. Sunlight illuminates the long breakfast table in Damon's private dining room, gilding the edges of the china and glass. Light is captured by the crystal and thrown in broken rainbows across the walls. The windows are slightly open letting in the crisp scent of pine and dew. A breeze stirs the curtains and carries with it the scent of the gardens below. Somewhere beyond the estate walls the pack is waking already murmuring with politics and plans and unease. I can feel the pulse of it even from here that low hum of wolves preparing for whatever comes next. But in here— In here it is just us. With his sleeves pushed up to his forearms and his jacket thrown away Damon sit across from me. His hair is still a t
The Wrong Mate, The Right Alpha Chapter 138 — The Shape of Lies
Mara Morning arrives gradually. Not gently nothing in the past twenty four hours merits that term but softly enough that the world doesn't instantly break me again when I wake up. Sheer curtains let in pale, circumspect light, as though even the sun knew better than to rush me. The room has a subtle scent of crushed herb and something sweet and metalic that I know is magework. Traditional magic. cautious magic. Grounding magic. I lie still for a moment cataloging myself. I'm hurting. Everywhere. The kind of pain that penetrates deep into the bone and is persistent rather than acute. My wrists are slightly bruised where the rope formerly bit into the skin and my throat is raw from howling. But I am alive. And whole. Kira? I ask quietly. Here she answers at once solid and steady a presence curled warm around my spine. I did not go anywhere. Relief loosens something tight in my chest. I breathe in. Slowly. Deliberately. The mage is standing close to the distant wall, carefu
The Wrong Mate, The Right Alpha Chapter 137 — When the Night Answers
Mara's POV The wrong type of silence greets me when I wake up. Not the hush of Damon's estate where even silence breathes with intention. Not the measured stillness of guards changing shifts or the distant heartbeat of a pack at rest. This quiet is empty. Hollow. My thoughts get too loud inside my skull as it pounds against my ears. The first thing I register is cold. It was a moist uneven cold that seeped into my back, shoulders, and palms rather than the crisp coolness of stone flooring or morning air. Earth. leaves. The smell of old rain and pine sap, strong and unpleasant. Forest. My eyes flicker open. I am met with darkness. layered rather than complete. Moonlight fractures into thin streamers that cut across gloom and vanish again as it filters weakly through an unseen canopy. With their sturdy trunks and tangled branches with trees tower like vigilant sentinels. No sounds. No birds. No insects. Wrong. This is incorrect in every way. My head aches. Pounding. Sick
The Wrong Mate, The Right Alpha Chapter 136 — When the Moon Draws a Line
Mara's POV The pack gathered like a living tide. Not orderly. Not perfectly unified. But present. That alone told me how deep today had cut. They came from all around Redwind, elders leaning on carved canes polished by decades of rule merchants who had shut down their stalls in the middle of comerce and hunters with dirt stil on their boots. Wolve who had never held a sword in their life stood side by side with warrior. Rank blurred. Blood tie vanished. The fact that they had arrived was all that was important. I had never seen that many in one location. The grounds could barely hold them. They spilled out beyond the formal gathering space. Into the gardens. Along the pathways. Some climbed trees to see. Children sat on their parents' shoulders. Before the council rose the open spaces were alive with tension. I could sense it in the way the air quivered against my skin heavy with scents too complex to distinguish: wonder mixed with dread, old and bitter bitterness and relief
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