Blind Alpha And His Unwanted Mate
And yet it feels claimed in a way that has nothing to do with teeth or skin.
The idea lands fully this time, no sliding past it. And instead of panic, there is want. Clear. Focused. Almost embarrassingly simple. I want the world to know I am his. I want it to be obvious in the way people look at us, in the pause before someone speaks to him, in the instinctive step back others take when they realize I am not unattached, not unchosen.
I want them to see him as mine too.
That part surprises me. Not the wanting him, that has always been there, but the possessiveness. It is not sharp or ugly. It feels protective, almost tender. Like my wolf curling around the idea of him and deciding this is som
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