Chapter 113

Mark and the kids had gone to bed hours ago, their soft, even breathing a gentle reminder of the peace we’d fought so hard to carve out. But here, in the heavy silence of the night, that peace felt temporary. Like a thin sheet draped over something untamed, something waiting.

I stood in front of the grand fireplace in Alexander’s bedroom—his bedroom—watching the flames flicker. I wasn’t even sure how I ended up here, having just followed him up the stairs.

My arms wrapped around myself, not for warmth, but for something to hold onto. The weight of the past still clung to me, pressing into my ribs, my lungs.

I could see her blood, my mother’s still spraying deep behind the walls of my mind.

She was dead. I never… we never got to fix things. Were we supposed to? I mean, I never thought we would but… now I never would, even if I wanted to.

It felt unreal.

I barely noticed him move until I felt him at my back, close enough that his heat wrapped around me, but not touching. His presence was always like this—an unspoken force, a gravity pulling me in.

“You’re thinking too much,” Alexander murmured, his voice low and edged with amusement.

I exhaled a sharp laugh how could he joke right now? “Maybe you don’t think enough.”

His breath ghosted along my neck as he leaned in, his lips barely grazing my ear. “Oh, I think plenty. Just not about useless things like guilt and what-ifs.”

I turned, looking up at him. “I should feel guilty. You got in trouble with the pack because of me. My family. My problems.”

Alexander sighed, stepping closer, crowding into my space. “Lauren.” His fingers lifted to my chin, tilting my face to his. His eyes were sharp, but the heat in them was unmistakable. “I’d get in trouble with the pack a thousand times over if it meant getting you back. Them back.”

I swallowed. “That’s reckless.”

“That’s love.”

Something inside me softened at his words, but it didn’t make the ache in my chest any less.

I pulled back, needing the space to think, to speak. “There’s more you don’t know.” My voice was quiet. “About my mother. About why I left.”

Alexander’s jaw ticked, but he nodded. “I’m listening.”

So I told him.

I told him about the rejection, the way my mother had cast me aside, the pain of being an unwanted reminder of her disgrace. I get it now… I was born from her abandonment. How she’d tried to keep me hidden. How I’d spent my childhood feeling like I shouldn’t exist, like my very presence was a mistake.

The day I finally left, we fought. We always fought, but that day was different. The day I told her I was moving in with Alexander, she lost it. She told me to never go near him, to stay away. I told her I hated her, and she shot back, saying she never loved me.

Not that I would ever know if that was true now.

By the time I finished, my throat was tight. “So you see?” I forced a smile, but it was thin, hollow. “None of this should have been your fight.”

Alexander was quiet for a long moment, his gaze burning into mine. And then, slowly, he reached out, catching my wrist, his fingers curling firm but gentle.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said, voice steady.

I looked away. “I left him either. Mark. I didn’t know, but I still left him.”

“You were a child, Lauren.” His grip tightened just slightly. “And you survived.”

I let out a breath, closing my eyes for a moment. “And now?” I opened them, meeting his gaze. “With my bloodline, my power—I mean… women with access to Alpha's power. The Lycan…what does that mean for us? Am I supposed to lead? Be more?”

His expression darkened, something unreadable flickering across his face. “You’re meant to be mine, and I yours, Lauren.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Not just yours, Alexander. What if I’m supposed to be more?”

His jaw flexed, a muscle ticking there. “What are you saying?”

I tilted my head, teasing. “Would it bother you if I was stronger than you?”

His mouth curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “Well, you aren’t.”

I grinned. “But what if I was?”

His eyes flashed, and suddenly, I found myself shoved back—gently, but still with force—until my back hit the edge of the massive bed.

“Alexander,” I warned, but I was already grinning.

“Lauren,” he mocked back, smirking.

I pushed against him, testing. “I could be stronger.”

“You aren’t,” he repeated smoothly.

I moved fast, trying to twist away, but he was faster. His hands caught me before I could escape, and in one fluid motion, he pinned me to the bed. His weight pressed me down, firm and unyielding, his knee bracketing my thigh, his breath warm against my lips.

“Yield,” he murmured.

I didn’t. I shoved against his shoulders, twisting, but he barely budged.

His grin widened. “Lauren.”

“Alexander.” I narrowed my eyes, panting just slightly.

“Say it,” he murmured, dipping his head closer.

I huffed, pretending to be annoyed. “Fine. You win.”

His smirk was pure arrogance, but before he could say anything, I shifted beneath him, catching him off guard. In a swift move, I hooked my leg around his and flipped us, pinning him to the mattress instead.

His eyes widened. “You little—”

I grinned down at him. “Still so sure I can’t be stronger?”

He exhaled a sharp laugh, hands resting on my hips like he wasn’t the least bit concerned. “Not even for a second.”

And then, before I could react, he surged up, reversing our positions again. This time, his body pressed flush against mine, and my breath hitched at the heat between us.

His gaze dropped to my lips. “Now, where were we?”

The air between us changed, the teasing slipping into something charged, something heavier. My pulse fluttered as his fingers brushed my jaw, tilting my face up.

I could feel him. The tension, the restraint, the want.

And I wanted him too.

His lips grazed mine, slow, testing—asking.

I kissed him back.

It was slow at first, just the press of lips, but then his hands slid down, gripping my waist, pulling me closer, and the heat between us ignited. My fingers tangled in his hair, his breath mixing with mine as the kiss deepened.

Heat licked down my spine, pooling low, making my thoughts blur.

He shifted, his weight pressing me deeper into the mattress, and a soft sound escaped me before I could stop it.

That sound—it wrecked him.

His grip tightened, his lips trailing down, grazing my jaw, my throat. His teeth scraped against my pulse point, sending a shiver through me.

“Lauren,” he murmured against my skin.

I forced myself to breathe, to focus. I wanted this—I wanted him—but not like this. Not tonight.

With effort, I pressed a hand against his chest, stopping him.

He went still immediately, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. His pupils were blown wide, his breathing heavy.

I swallowed, my own breath uneven. “Not tonight.”

A beat of silence. Then, a slow nod. “Alright.” His voice was rough, but there was no anger, no frustration.

Just understanding.

I exhaled, letting my hands slide down his chest. “But you’re not sleeping alone.”

His lips twitched, amused. “That so?”

I pushed at his shoulder, rolling him over, then curled into his side. He huffed a laugh but didn’t argue, just wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close.

And as I rested my head against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart.

I just knew—I was lucky, lucky to have Alexander at my side.

I truly didn’t deserve his kindness.