All Chapters of Secret Infatuation: Chapter 31 - Chapter 39

The fire between us had simmered down into something quieter, something softer. After the kiss, neither of us spoke much. Liam just pulled me back onto the couch, tucking me against him like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go. I let him. His arms were warm around me, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. Every so often, his fingers would trail over my back, absentmindedly tracing little circles, like he needed to reassure himself I was still there. I felt safe. And maybe that was dangerous. Because I could feel myself sinking into him, into this moment, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to claw my way back out. At some point, I must have dozed off again because the next thing I knew, I was waking up to the smell of coffee and something distinctly… burnt? Liam groaned behind me, his voice still thick with sleep. “Tell me that’s not your sister trying to kill us.” I blinked a few times, adjusting to the morning light streaming through the windows. “It’s possible.” A lo

I would say I was shocked, but that would be an understatement.The other night, I thought I was seeing things—just a trick of the light, my imagination running wild—when I saw a werewolf shift back into a man. And then Liam had come to the car.For him to stand here now, looking me in the eyes and admitting it out loud, my mind struggled to process it.A werewolf.Not just a metaphor. Not just some joke about his sharp instincts or uncanny ability to anticipate things before they happened. A real, actual, mythical, doesn’t-exist-outside-of-movies-and-legends werewolf.I didn’t realize I had stopped breathing until my lungs burned.Now I knew what Nathan meant when he said Liam was a monster.Monster.The word didn’t sit right. It felt…wrong.Because when I looked at Liam, standing there with that guarded expression, his fists clenched at his sides like he was bracing himself for me to run, I didn’t see a monster.But I didn’t know what to say.And Liam must have taken my silence as r

The morning sun poured through the bay windows, casting soft, golden light across the room. It painted everything in a hazy warmth, but nothing in this world was more radiant than the man lying next to me.Alex.Even in sleep, he looked unfairly good. His hair was a tousled mess, lashes fanned out over flushed cheeks, and lips slightly parted. My fingers moved of their own accord, tracing the familiar lines of his face. His cheekbones, the curve of his nose, the soft dip of his collarbone. I knew every inch of him now, and still, I couldn’t stop memorizing.My heart felt like it could split open from the sheer weight of contentment. Of love.Until my fingers ghosted over a rough patch of skin beneath his jawline.A scar.An old one, but jagged and ugly. It didn’t belong there. Didn’t fit on something so beautiful.I stilled, my jaw tightening.I knew that scar. I knew the shape of it—like a twisted smile—and I knew who the hell gave it to him. Ryan.My wolf stirred, low and violent,

The city skyline was cloaked in the soft gray of early dawn, light just beginning to chase away the darkness. The apartment was quiet, save for the hum of the HVAC and the faint rustle of sheets shifting as I stirred. Warmth radiated from both sides of me. Alex was nestled into my chest, one leg slung over mine, face buried in the crook of my neck. Olivia lay behind him, her arm lazily draped across his waist, the edge of her breast pressed to his back. Her breathing was slow, even. Last night had been fire and frenzy. This morning… was calm. Intimate. Still. I brushed my fingers through Alex’s hair, feeling him melt a little more into me. He let out a small contented sigh, the kind that sent a swell of something protective and aching through my chest. “Morning,” he murmured, voice sleep-rough and beautiful. “Hey,” I whispered back, kissing the top of his head. He stretched, then turned slightly, eyes fluttering open. They were soft and clear, the storm of lust from last night

The sky above the coastal vineyard was the kind that poets wrote about soft, endless, and full of promise. Lanterns swayed in the gentle breeze, glowing gold and ivory among the trellises of wildflowers and roses. A white aisle stretched down the center of the garden, lined with velvet chairs filled with friends, pack elders, and family. It was a day long in the making. Marcus stood beneath a ceremonial arch, his eyes never leaving the woman gliding toward him. My mother looked ethereal in a fitted lace gown with off-the-shoulder sleeves, a delicate veil flowing behind her like mist. She held a bouquet of midnight roses and moon lilies flowers from their original mating ceremony long ago. This time, nothing stood between them. No duty. No council. Just love. When she reached him, Marcus took her hand with reverence, like she was a prayer come to life. “I once thought duty was the only thing that defined me,” Marcus said in his vows, voice thick with emotion. “But I was wrong. I