Alex’s office was quiet now.No more angry voices.No more slammed doors or broken pride.Just us.I sat sideways on his lap, his arm slung low around my waist, holding me like I might vanish if he let go. His head rested against my chest, heavy and warm, tucked right between my breasts like it belonged there. Like he belonged there.His other hand scrolled lazily through the papers on his desk—half working, half pretending to.Cherry hummed in the back of my mind for the first time in days. A soft, sleepy purr of contentment that made my chest ache.Finally.Finally, she whispered.Ours. Safe. Touching. Home.I dragged my fingers slowly through his hair, smoothing the dark strands away from his temple. Soft. Silky. Warm beneath my palm. He leaned into the touch like he needed it, like a man starved for affection, and I felt his chest rise with a quiet sigh.The scent of him filled my nose—deep and dark and unmistakably Alex. My mate. My impossible, stubborn, possessive mate.God. How
His thumb traced my bottom lip. Slow. Burning. Like he owned the right to touch me like this. Like I was already his, and he knew it.I jerked my face away. My chest rose, quick and panicked.“Stop it,” I whispered.But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t.His other hand braced the wall beside my head, caging me there. His body heat rolled over me, tightening the knot in my stomach until it felt like I couldn’t breathe.“Say it,” Alex murmured, voice low, rough, coaxing. “Who the hell do you think I’m in love with?”I bit my lip, hard. My throat burned. My heart cracked, splintering right there in my chest.“Don’t play stupid,” I whispered. “You know who. You call her name in your sleep.”His brow furrowed—sharp. Confused. Angry.He bit my ear, nuzzling into my neck. “Unless you speak up, angel, I doubt I’ll understand. I say your name a lot in my sleep,” he said, his hand still in my shirt—except they were no longer on my spine. More of my bra strap. God, how does he want me to concentrat
Why does this feel like I’m walking into my own execution?Oh right.Because it probably is.I lowkey knew it. I knew this would happen. I really wish Cherry was talking right now—her snarky voice would’ve made this bearable—but she’s silent. Shut tight inside. And honestly?I don’t blame her.Alex has hurt us enough.I was just about to sneak back to my room after helping Xaden with his wounds. Bandaging that arrogant idiot should’ve annoyed me, but somehow... somehow he made me smile a little today.It was nice.Stupid, but nice.I planned to shower. Curl up on my bed. Torture myself with mental pictures of how perfect Zara probably looks, how flawless she probably is... instead, a stone-faced soldier appeared, blocking my escape.The Alpha summoned me. To his study.So here I am. Walking the Tabernacle of Stairs, every step dragging like iron shackles. Like nails driving into my own coffin.By the time I reach his office, I’ve built up at least fifteen different versions of rejecti
I stood in front of her door like a fucking idiot.No guards. No witnesses. Just me and the soft scent of vanilla and cocoa butter that leaked from the crack beneath the wood. Her scent. Penelope. Sweet and sinful, soft and haunting—the only scent that ever made my wolf purr and snarl at the same time.I’d been here for forty goddamn minutes.Forty minutes of standing here like some deranged fool... waiting... hoping... aching.Ten minutes of staring at this door, waiting like a dog for a scrap of attention. Like some useless pup too afraid to knock. Too afraid she wouldn’t open it at all. I wasn’t even sure if she was back from her duties. I hadn’t dared to check. Coward.Pathetic.I raked a hand through my hair, forcing myself to breathe as Damon snarled low and bitter in the back of my mind.You’re Alpha, he spat. Not some spineless mutt sniffing at her door. Knock. Look for her. Claim her. Make her yours or get the fuck away from here.But I couldn’t.Because for the first time in
The war table was a mess of unfinished reports and half-drunk coffee cups, each one a testament to how far behind we were falling. Rogue sightings along the northeastern border, patrol inconsistencies, and now whispers of unrest from within the council itself. It never ended.I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a slow breath, glaring at the newest complaint stamped in red ink: “Land conflict unresolved. Claim dispute escalating. Alpha input needed.”Of course it was.I glanced at the empty seat across from me—Alex’s chair, still untouched since the morning meeting he missed. Again.“Where the hell are you?” I muttered, flipping the file shut.Something was off with him. Had been for days now.It wasn’t just that he was absent from meetings or training late into the night—it was the way he moved through the packhouse like a ghost, his presence tense, coiled, ready to snap. Like something had burrowed under his skin and refused to let go.And I had a pretty damn good idea what—o
It’s been four days.Ninety-six hours.Five thousand, seven hundred and sixty minutes.Three hundred and forty-five thousand, six hundred fucking seconds.And I still can’t get her out of my head.I’ve tried. Goddess knows I’ve tried. Buried myself in work, drowned in council meetings, trained until my fists split open. But nothing silences her voice in my head. Nothing dulls the feel of her, the scent of her, the way she looked at me like I was something cruel and unworthy.And maybe I am.The worst part?She hasn’t even looked at me since.Not really. Not the way I need her to. Like she sees me. Like she wants me. I think it’s probably on my part—I never apologized for kissing her and probably making her feelings seem worthless—but I doubt that’s why my angel keeps looking at me like I stabbed a dagger through her heart without feeling remorse. I can’t stand the look in her eyes. It hurts me more than it does her. And you know what? I’m a fucking bastard if it took four days before