All Chapters of Loving His Sigma Mate: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Brie’s POVThe fire has burned down to embers when I wake. Soft orange light licks across the ceiling beams.Damien’s arm is heavy across my waist, his chest pressed to my back, breath warm against the nape of my neck.Every inhale carries cedar and seawater, and the faint leftover burn of whiskey.My cheek still throbs, but the sting has dulled beneath whatever he put on it. The rest of me feels less raw, but still fragile.I shift in the bed and his arm tightens instantly, fingers splaying over my stomach as if the slightest space between us is a threat. Jackling stirs at the touch, oddly comforted by his protectiveness.“You’re awake.” His voice is rough, sleep-scraped,

Damien’s POVSunlight cuts through the half-drawn curtains in thin gold blades, landing warm across the tangled sheets. I wake with Brie’s back pressed to my chest, her breathing slow and even, the soft curve of her ass fitted perfectly against me.My arm is still locked around her waist like I’ve spent the entire night afraid she’d vanish if I loosened my grip.Voss watches with me. He has been pressing against my skin ever since we left the ballroom. He is more possessive of her, I noticed but can’t place it. Maybe it is because we finally agree, nothing has ever been worth sacrificing Brie for.‘You were a coward,’ he hums, catching my train of thought.‘Yeah, not anymore though.’ I respond and push him further back in my mind, as far as he allows me. He wants to be present now we finally have her back in our arms, and I will allow it, to some degree.I don’t move at first. Just continue to breathe her in. Smoke from the dead fire dilutes her natural scent, but the heather, white c

Damien’s POVI lock the door behind me the second it shuts. Blood still coats the inside of my mouth, metallic and sharp.My lip throbs. The cut above my father’s brow had been deeper than mine. Not that it really mattered. It’s not enough, but at least it’s something.What matters is the cold threat still ringing in my ears.Brie sits up the moment she sees me. The sheet slips down her bare shoulders. Her eyes lock on the split in my lip, the bruise already forming along my jaw.“What happened?” Her voice is still hoarse from sleep.I cross the room in three strides, drop to my knees beside the bed, and take her face in both hands. Careful of the bruise on her cheek

Alpha Dexter’s POVThe guards’ blood still clings under my nails. Three of them hit the dirt before the rest learn to keep their mouths shut and their eyes on the ground.My knuckles throb in time with the pulse behind my eyes. Every swing is a poor substitute. None of it scratches the real itch.Brie’s door stays locked. Whatever Damien has layered over the wood refuses to yield. I can smell her fear through the seams, sweet and sharp, and it only makes the pressure in my chest worse.My wolf is craving to have her almost as much as I desire to ruin her.My wife’s scent drifts from the master suite. Cool, distant, and already half-turned away for the night. There is no heat left in her. Hasn’t been for years.I need something exciting to burn the desire out of my veins.With Brie locked away and unavailable. My wife, useful but bland. That leaves one throat I can still put my cock down and actually enjoy it.I don’t even knock. Lori’s door moves under my shoulder. Curtains still draw

Brie’s POVThe doors of the east wing close with a muffled thud that vibrates straight up through the soles of my slippers.I don’t move from where I stand by the hallway table, my fingers curled so tight around the edge of the polished mahogany that my knuckles feel bleached of all color.Down the corridor, the rhythmic clack-clack of luggage wheels rolling over Italian marble echoes off the high vaulted ceilings.Lori is wearing a heavy traveling coat the color of dried mud. Her usually immaculate hair is loosely bound in a bun on top of her head.Every step she takes is stiff, her shoulders pulled up so high her ears practically touch them.She looks less like a pack’s prized noble