All Chapters of ALPHA Magnus Andersen: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

STEVENS"I never had someone like this before," I whisper into the quiet space between us. "Someone who would actually listen to my wolf, someone who holds my anger without breaking."Magnus does not pull away. His solid warmth anchors me to the bed, steady and silent, dissolving the bitter rage that usually burns through my chest whenever I think of my mother's demands."My beast will always hear you, young wolf," Magnus says, his voice a low, gravelly vibration against my temple.Having the Crown Alpha Heir of the Andersen Silverclaw Royal Pack hold me like this—soothing the raw frustration I carry toward my own family—is a relief I never anticipated. Letting him ground my frantic energy makes me feel like I finally have a true ally in this strict, unyielding pack hierarchy. It feels almost absurd that my protector is the very Alpha I was forced to bond with through a arranged pack contract.His massive hand drifts lower, coming to rest at the small of my back to rub soothing circle

"You like playing with danger, Stevens," Magnus rumbles, his hand wrapping around my throat, not tightly enough to choke, but firm enough to remind me who owns the Silverclaw territory.My inner wolf whines, desperate for the friction of his heavy body against mine. I grip his forearms, feeling the insane heat radiating from his skin. We are miles away from the Nielsen Moonfang Manor, away from my father Tronte and my brothers who treat me like a pawn instead of a male heir. Here, under the shadow of the Andersen Silverclaw Royal Citadel, I am not just a young wolf scholar or a Moonsong Bard. I am his Moonbound Mate."I asked for this," I breathe, my voice breaking as his claws lightly trail down the front of my chest, splitting the silk of my tunic wide open. "You think you can scare me off with your pack laws and your ancient bloodline, Alpha?"Magnus snarls, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. His eyes flash a brilliant, golden topaz—his beast rising right beneath the surface. "Y

"Stop staring at my neck, Magnus," I say, laying my violin case flat on the table inside the private quarters of the Silverclaw Royal Citadel.My inner wolf still hums with the residual heat of his knot from last night, my inner thighs sensitive and aching under my leather trousers. Magnus stands near the high arched windows, his massive shoulders broad against the light, his golden eyes locked onto the dark red mark resting over my collarbone. The mark of the Andersen Silverclaw Royal Pack."I can't take my eyes off it, Stevens," Magnus rumbles, his voice thick with a dark, territorial pride. "Your father Tronte thought he could use the Alpha Council Hall to strip your title as a Moonsong Bard. He has no power over you now. The eternal moonmark claims you for the throne.""My father is a coward," I say, stepping closer to him, my pulse leaping as his heavy aura washes over me. "He sold my mating rights to settle his debt in Frostfang Capital. But he doesn't know you turned those paper

I push past the doorway into the master suite, my boots silent against the thick timber floorboards. My eyes immediately lock on Stevens. My mate is standing near the bed, his strong, broad male shoulders tense beneath a soft tunic, his knuckles white where he holds a small glass vial."What is that in your hands, Stevens?" I growl, the rough alpha register dripping from my vocal cords.He flinches, his neck snapping toward me, those deep, storm-gray eyes flashing with immediate alarm. "Magnus! You... you were downstairs with Egon. I thought you were reviewing the Silverclaw patrol borders.""I asked you a question, my Lord," I rumble, closing the distance between us until my heavy chest brushes against his back. My hand wraps around his jaw, tilting his face up so I can read every tremor in his throat. "You’ve been evasive since our transport touched down in Frostfang Capital. You barely touched the roasted meats at the table. You slipped away from the pack feast."Stevens swallows h

The next few suns pass in a haze of pure, golden bliss.Magnus comes to the Moonsong Bard Guild every afternoon, carrying little surprises. One sun it is a basket of sweet wildberries, the next a stone jar of hearty venison broth that Greta Doppler prepared in the royal kitchens. He hovers near the rehearsal hall while I play my violin, or sits silently on the leather bench with an Alpha Dominion ledger open on his tablet. Sometimes he looks at me over the top of the screen, his dark golden eyes unreadable, and I feel a sudden heat stir low in my gut that has nothing to do with the pup.When my morning sickness returns, he is there instantly, holding my hair back, his broad palm rubbing gentle circles on my spine until the wave passes. His tunic always smells faintly of cedar and pine, and I find myself pressing into his broad male chest afterward, letting him absorb the worst of my weakness.This afternoon, I am curled in a carved wooden chair with my violin resting against my knee w