All Chapters of The Alpha's Reluctant Temptation: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

So we ended up at a shabby little Chinese restaurant tucked between a laundromat and a vape shop. Thankfully, they accepted QR payments from Gregor’s phone. I was about to pass out from hunger, so I didn’t even complain when the food came out steaming hot, full of peppers that looked like weapons.The first bite lit my tongue on fire. “Oh my god,” I choked, fanning my mouth. “This is lava.”Gregor, of course, ate like it was nothing. Shoveling noodles and dumplings like a man starved for decades. “Weak,” he said between bites.“Excuse me?” I sputtered, grabbing my water. “This food was cooked in the pits of hell. If my tongue doesn’t survive this, I’m haunting you.”He smirked, which was unfair because he looked way too good doing it, even in that ridiculous hoodie. “At least you’ll finally be quiet.”I jabbed my chopsticks in his direction. “One day, Gregor. One day, I’ll watch you trip over your own ego.”“And when that day comes,” he leaned closer, eyes glinting with something more

Marigold POVOkay. I did not expect them to be chasing us this soon. I mean, couldn’t the Black Fangs at least give us a five-minute breather? A snack break? Something? No. Apparently, my survival came with zero intermissions.The Kia was rattling like it was about to spontaneously combust, headlights bouncing across mud and trees, and Gregor’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. I hated it. I hated not being in control, hated just sitting there like the passenger princess from hell while Mister Alpha Grump drove like he was auditioning for Mad Max: Wolfpack Edition.So, naturally, I opened my big mouth.“Switch with me,” I said.His head whipped toward me. “What?”“Switch. Seats. You heard me.”“You can’t be serious—”“I am always serious when it involves not dying. Now move it.”“Marigold—”“Alpha Gregor, either switch with me or I’ll grab the wheel myself and we’ll both find out if heaven has a Starbucks.”His growl rumbled deep, but to my eternal shock, he actually agreed.

I was two seconds away from breaking down the cottage door and announcing myself as the Wolf Queen of Soup when Gregor, ever the gentleman (read: control freak), rapped his knuckles against the wood.The door creaked open almost instantly, like whoever lived here had been waiting. And then—boom. A woman, tiny and ancient, wearing a black shawl and an apron covered in flour. Her eyes crinkled up when she saw Gregor, and I swear, the man who usually looks like he’s auditioning for “Scary Alpha of the Year” suddenly froze like a naughty schoolboy.“Gregorino!” she exclaimed in a thick Italian accent, throwing her arms around him. Yes. Threw. Her entire, ninety-pound self. The giant Alpha, conqueror of wolves and destroyer of minivans, nearly staggered under the sheer force of grandma affection.I choked on my laughter. “Gregorino? Oh, I’m never letting you live that down.”He glared at me over her shoulder, but old lady hugs apparently neutralized his ability to rip out my throat. I cons

By sunrise, the rain had turned into a steady drizzle, soaking the forest in mist and mud. Birds chirped like they were mocking me, squirrels darted past as if flexing their stamina, and there I was—half-dead, wheezing like a broken accordion in a pair of joggers older than my dignity.Gregor, of course, looked like he had been carved from steel and smugness. His long strides cut through the mud like he was walking on clouds, not drenched dirt. The man didn’t even sweat. Not a single drop. His shirt clung to him from the rain, but his breathing? Smooth. Calm. Like he was meditating instead of sprinting through a freaking thunderstorm.Meanwhile, I was dying. Absolutely, positively dying.“Why—” I gasped, tripping over a root and catching myself on a tree—“are we running—in the rain—like criminals escaping an action movie?”He glanced back over his shoulder, barely out of breath. “Because you need stamina.”“I have stamina,” I wheezed. “For shopping. And sarcasm. And occasionally runni

So there we were. Two wolves. Two naked disasters. Standing waist-deep in a freezing river like it was some kind of sick mating reality show the Moon Goddess never asked for.And of course, Gregor had the audacity—the sheer alpha arrogance—to look completely unbothered. Like strutting around stark naked in moonlight was his birthright.Meanwhile, I was trying to stay submerged up to my chin, praying a family of ducks would adopt me before my dignity flatlined.“Stop smirking,” I snapped.“I’m not smirking.”“You’re always smirking.” I jabbed a finger at him from under the water. “That’s your face. Permanent resting smirk.”He tilted his head, water dripping from his hair down his annoyingly perfect jawline. “And what’s yours? Permanent resting glare?”“Better than looking like an underwear ad reject,” I shot back.He actually chuckled. Low. Dangerous. The kind of sound that curled low in my stomach and made my wolf perk up like, Yes hello, can we have more of that noise please?I shov