All Chapters of Rejected By My Hockey Alpha: Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

Penelope POVI’m boneless, floating, every nerve singing. Being on our sides like this made it feel different—closer, somehow. Like he wasn’t just inside my body, but inside my soul.He’s still half-hard inside me, and when he shifts slightly I gasp at the aftershock. His hand strokes lazily down my spine, soothing and possessive all at once.“Still with me?” he murmurs, voice rough but tender.“Barely,” I admit, smiling against his chest. “You’re going to ruin me for anyone else.”“Good,” he says, the word a low rumble. “Because there won’t be anyone else. Ever.”He kisses me again, slow and sweet, and I feel the truth of it through the bond—absolute certainty, fierce protectiveness, love so deep it steals my breath.The third time starts with Timothy flipping me onto my hands and knees, his movements urgent and commanding. "On your knees, Luna," he growls, voice thick with that alpha edge that makes my wolf whine in submission. I'm still slick from before, aching but ready, and he p

Penelope pov I arch my back as Timothy settles between my legs, his weight pressing me into the mattress in the most delicious way. We're both naked now, skin slick with a light sheen of sweat from our earlier teasing. His cock is hard and heavy against my thigh, throbbing with need, but there's no hurry in his movements. This is lazy, indulgent—missionary at its most intimate, where every thrust is deliberate and unhurried, drawing out the pleasure like a slow burn.He guides himself to my entrance, the blunt head of his cock nudging against my slick folds. I'm already wet for him, aching from the buildup, and when he pushes in, it's inch by torturous inch. No slamming, no frenzy—just a gradual slide that stretches me perfectly, filling me until his hips are flush against mine. "Fuck, Penelope," he murmurs, his voice rough and low, eyes locked on mine. His arms bracket my head, elbows sinking into the pillow, keeping him close without crushing me.I moan softly at the fullness, my h

Penelope pov The week has blurred into this perfect, lazy rhythm. Mornings start slow with coffee and murmured conversation on the porch, watching snow dust the pines. Afternoons are for hiking trails until my calves burn and my cheeks sting from the cold, then collapsing together on the couch with books or playing pool in the game room, laughing when Timothy sinks the eight-ball and pretends he didn’t cheat. Evenings melt into firelight, wine, and the kind of intimacy that feels like rediscovery every single time—no schedules, no pack politics, no expectations. Just us.Timothy promised we’d make love in every room of the cabin. He’s kept that promise with ruthless enthusiasm. I’m wearing nothing but one of Timothy’s oversized flannel shirts, sleeves rolled up, hem barely skimming my thighs. I’m cracking eggs into a bowl when I feel him come up behind me—big hands sliding around my waist, warm chest pressing to my back. His lips find the side of my neck, stubble scraping deliciousl

Penelope's POV The situation room is packed with pack security and council members and everyone looks tense. "What's going on?" Timothy asks, his Alpha voice coming out immediately. Ethan pulls up a map on the screen. "Three attacks in the past week. All on pack allies and trade partners." My stomach drops. "Three attacks? During our honeymoon?" "We didn't want to interrupt," Ethan says apologetically. "But they're escalating." He clicks through photos, they include burned buildings, destroyed vehicles, Injured wolves. "Who's responsible?" Timothy demands. "We don't know yet," Ethan admits. "No pack markings or identification, they move fast and disappear." "Rogues?" I suggest. "Organized rogues," Ethan corrects as he pulls up another image. "They're using military tactics, coordinated strikes with professional equipment." Timothy studies the map. "What's the pattern?" "All targets are connected to us," Ethan explains. "The Reeds' lumber business, the Ashtons' transport co

Timothy's POV I wake up at dawn with a plan forming in my mind. Penelope is still asleep beside me, breathing softly. I watched her for a moment, grateful for her presence and strength. Then I carefully slip out of bed and head downstairs. My office is exactly as I left it last night. Laptop closed. Reports stacked neatly. I open everything and start working. The first priority is gathering information. I can't fight an enemy I don't understand. I pull up security footage from all three attack sites. Watch them repeatedly, looking for patterns. The attackers move with precision. Military training shows in every step. They know where cameras are positioned and avoid most angles. But not all. I freeze one frame. Enhance the image. There's a tattoo visible on one attacker's wrist. Partially hidden by their glove but visible for just a second. I screenshot it and send it to Ethan. Can you identify this tattoo? His response came five minutes later. Working on it, but it looks familiar