Chapter 94

Sunlight was already flooding the room when I stirred. The warmth of it kissed my bare shoulder, and the sheets tangled around my legs were soft and impossibly smooth. I blinked, adjusting to the golden spill of morning that had crept across the floor and onto the bed. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. Then I turned my head and saw him.

Richard was propped against the headboard, bare chest exposed beneath the edge of the sheet, reading something on his tablet. His hair was still messy from sleep, and there was a faint crease on his cheek from the pillow. He looked like a man who hadn’t yet remembered the weight of the world.

“You’re staring,” he said, without looking up.

“You’re smug,” I murmured, stretching out under the covers.

“Only because I have reason to be.” He finally turned to me, setting the tablet on the nightstand. “How are you feeling?”

I thought about it. “Warm. Sore. Slightly scandalized.”

“Good.” He leaned over and kissed my temple. “Then I had the appropriate effect.”

There was a knock at the door, and before I could even ask what time it was, two members of staff entered, both looking completely unfazed by the fact that the Alpha King was shirtless and I was clearly not supposed to be anywhere but here.

They carried in a silver breakfast tray laden with things that made my stomach rumble. Flaky pastries, a tall glass of fresh orange juice, fruit slices carved into perfect curves, and a steaming pot of coffee. There was even a tiny jar of honey and a linen napkin folded with the kind of precision that screamed luxury.

When the staff left, Richard moved the tray onto the bed between us.

“Is this normal?” I asked, eyeing the spread.

“It is now.”

“You’re giving me queen treatment.”

He reached for a berry and held it to my mouth. “Is that a complaint?”

I let him feed it to me, lips brushing his fingertips as I took the bite. “No. It’s just suspiciously convenient.”

“Consider it my attempt at spoiling you before the rest of the world tries to tear us apart again.”

I swallowed, and the sweetness on my tongue turned thoughtful. “That’s bleak.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I won’t. But you could at least let me pretend we’re in a romantic comedy and not a political thriller for one morning.”

He chuckled and poured the coffee, handing me a cup just the way I liked it.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, eating and watching the light shift across the rug. Every so often he’d steal a bite of whatever I was eating, or tilt his head to kiss my bare shoulder. The intimacy wasn’t frantic like last night. It was lazy and soft and rich with the kind of affection that didn’t need to prove anything.

When the tray was pushed aside, Richard gently shifted me down onto my back, setting the tray aside with care. I blinked up at him, warmth blooming in my chest as he settled between my thighs, his body hovering above mine. The look in his eyes wasn’t hungry this time. It was something softer, heavier.

He leaned down to kiss me again, slow and deep, his hands tracing every inch of exposed skin. His mouth returned to mine, but this time it was heavier, more patient, like he had all morning to taste every part of me. As he slid inside me, I gasped, arching up into the stretch of him.

“Still with me?” he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Don’t stop.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He began to move, slow and deep. I closed my eyes and felt the way he filled me, every roll of his hips pressing us closer. The room faded until there was only him, only this. His fingers brushed my cheek as he looked down at me, eyes searching.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he said. “Open, soft, mine.”

I whimpered, digging my heels into the mattress, wrapping my arms tighter around his shoulders. “Say more.”

“I’ve wanted this since the first time you looked at me like you hated me. Wanted to earn this. All of you. Not just your body. Your trust.”

“You have it,” I said. “All of it. Right here.”

He kissed me again, groaning as he thrust deeper. I moaned into his mouth, every movement drawing a fresh ache of pleasure that gathered in my spine.

“Richard,” I said, breath breaking. “Don’t hold back. I want all of it.”

“You have all of me,” he murmured. “Every damn piece.”

He shifted slightly, angling deeper. My back arched, fingers tightening in his hair. “Right there,” I gasped. “Fuck, just like that.”

He did. Again and again, slow and sure. His hand slipped between us, fingers circling gently, just enough to send heat coiling in my belly.

“Let go for me,” he whispered. “I want to feel you lose it.”

His words pushed me closer, every thrust and stroke tipping me further. I cried out, breath caught between pleasure and disbelief, until the orgasm tore through me like a flood. My legs trembled. My whole body went tight.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Just like that.”

He didn’t last long after that. With a low, broken sound, he thrust hard once, then again, then stilled deep inside me. I felt him spill into me as he buried his face in my neck.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You undo me.”

“You like being undone?” I teased, breathless.

“With you? Always.”

He stayed on top of me, our bodies sticky and tangled. His hands stroked over my ribs, my hip, the side of my face.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“More than okay.” I turned my face to kiss his jaw. “I feel... full. And safe. And ruined.”

He chuckled softly. “Good.”

We stayed that way for a long time, skin to skin, his weight a comfort more than a burden. I could feel his heart pounding in sync with mine. Nothing else existed. Just the sweat cooling on our skin, the warmth of the sheets, and the quiet hush of morning wrapping around us like another blanket.

We stayed that way for a long time, skin pressed to skin, nothing between us but breath and heartbeat.

Eventually, the knock at the door came again. This time it wasn’t kitchen staff.

Nathan entered without waiting for permission, his face already tight with concern.

“Sorry,” he said. He didn’t look sorry. “You need to see this.”

Richard pulled on a robe and stepped away, taking the tablet Nathan offered. I sat up, dragging the sheets higher.

“It’s getting worse,” Nathan said. “There are people outside again. Bigger crowd than yesterday. They’ve started chants calling for your resignation.”

Richard handed me the tablet. The footage was already circulating online. Shaky shots of protestors, news blurbs speculating about everything from pack discontent to moral collapse.

I glanced at him. “Do you think this is because of last night?”

“It’s not just last night. It’s everything. They’re looking for a reason. They always were.”

Nathan cleared his throat. “Also… David’s team is leaning into the narrative. They’re calling you compromised. Unstable. Privately funded influencers are pushing smear campaigns across our networks.”

“Let them talk,” Richard said. His voice was steady, but I could see the way his jaw clenched.

Nathan left after a few more briefings, and we stood there alone again, the air heavier than before.

“I’ve been having dreams,” I said softly.

Richard turned to me. “What kind of dreams?”

“Flashes. A forest. A feeling like running, like I can’t get far enough. And instincts. I keep knowing things before I should. Smells. Reactions. I think…” I paused. “I think my wolf is trying to really wake up.”

He stepped closer. “You’re sure?”

“No. But I’m not imagining it. I can feel her sometimes. Almost like she’s pacing inside me.”

He nodded, pulling me into his arms. “Then we wait. Until she’s ready. Until you are. But we don’t tell anyone yet. Not until it’s real. Not with how fragile things are right now.”

“I know.”

That night, we didn’t talk about the press. We didn’t talk about strategy or risk or the next ten moves. We just curled into each other on the couch, my head on his chest, his fingers drawing lazy circles on my back.