This Isn't About Him Novels & Stories

“No, it’s not about Black.” He nodded. “Okay. So is it about the work? You still want to work?” I shook my head. “No,” I sniffed. “It’s not about leaving work at all.” “Okay,” he noted. “So… is it about the Grand Alpha? Is it about him—the invite?” I didn’t answer. My silence said it all. He tightened the hand he held, firm and still gentle. “Debbie,” he called softly. “Please, look at me.”

he murmured, his voice a dry whisper. She walked to his bedside and perched on the edge of the chair, trying not to let the tremor in her chest show on her face. She reached forward and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. His skin was warm, too warm. “Still working on that napping world record?” she teased gently. “Think I’m winning,” he murmured, eyes drifting shut again. She sat with him for a while, just watching him breathe. Twenty-two shouldn’t look like this. Twenty-two should mean football bruises and late-night gaming. But Kyle, her little brother in every way that mattered, was fragile now. Diminished.

“You hated me before Colin’s death! You used his death to go beyond just normal bullying. What the fuck did I ever do to you anyway!?” “I shouldn’t have been attracted to a wolf-less orphan! I am an Alpha!” And there it was—the truth. “But you weren’t wolf-less, were you?”

“Why don’t you ask him first?” I looked at him and he looked away. I went a little closer, so he couldn’t hear us. “Is he right?” Damien looked at me and sighed. “I don’t plan to.” “Why?” “I can’t let him win.” He was right to an extent. “Does he really hold the power to ruin your life?” He thought for some time before turning to the man. “I will marry her,” his tone was sharp — sharper than usual, “But not now.”

"I'm fine." "You're not fine." "I'm processing something." "What?" "Something I'm not ready to talk about yet." He was quiet for a moment. I could feel him weighing it, trying to decide on whether or not he should push it. "Is it about us?" he asked. "No." And that at least was entirely true. "It's not about you and me. I promise." "But it's about something." "Yes." "Something that's making you look like that." I looked up. "Like what?"

“No, it’s not.” “Then what did you mean?” “I meant....” He cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. “This isn’t about her.” He says and I arch a brow at him. “Then why does it feel like it is?” “Because you are deflecting.” He says and I frown. “What?” “This isn’t about Sienna.” He says, stepping closer to me. “Yes, it is.” “No. This is about you.” He says firmly, and my stomach drops. “What are you talking about?”

"You are inside a situation I am navigating the same as you. The decision is what I am telling you about. It is not about you. It is mine, about what I am willing to do and not do. You do not have to make the same one." I looked at him. "Is it about ownership?" I said, because I needed to ask it, needed to hear his answer to the specific word. "No," he said, immediately and without any apparent need to think about it. "It has never been about ownership." "Then what," I said. He stepped slightly closer. Not to crowd the space, not with any of the quality of someone reducing distance to assert something. Just closer, because what he was about to say required the kind of proximity that carries

"Do you know what you've walked into?" "I think so." "You don't." Their voice was softer now but no less cutting. "You think this is about attraction. Chemistry. Two people who want each other. But it's not. It's about control. About him needing to control something in his life that isn't a spreadsheet or a board meeting. And you're young enough and new enough and sharp enough to make him feel like he's choosing something instead of just managing it." "That's not what this is," I said.

“That’s not what this is about.” “It never was.” A chill spread through me. “Then what is it about?” “You’re standing at the center of something you don’t even understand yet,” he said finally. My breath caught. “And when it fully wakes up…” he added quietly, “this place won’t be enough to contain it.” My fingers curled slightly at my sides. For the first time since I walked into this room, I wasn’t thinking about the bond, or the elders, or even Draven and Darius.

really was. Jaxon looked over at me. “Coach said I’d be stupid not to take it. He said this could change everything for me.” “It could,” I said softly, but my voice cracked at the end. He rubbed his face, frustrated. “He doesn’t get it, Sienna. None of them do. They think it’s just about football, but it’s not. I can’t just leave and pretend none of this—” He gestured between us. “—matters.”