Chapter 155

Alaric’s POV

I woke up the next morning with Cara in my arms, asleep with her cheek to my chest. We were still in last night’s clothes, more or less, though I was missing my jacket, and my buttoned shirt was unbuttoned halfway, revealing the tank top I wore underneath.

Her clothes were equally disheveled from an evening of aggressive making out and light petting. Our kissing in the gardens had moved to the bedroom, but while we touched and kissed, we never crossed the line into sex.

After so fundamentally messing up the last time we’d been together, I was adamant to show more restraint now. I had to prove to Cara that my desire for her was for more than just her body. That hot passionate spark always sizzled between us, but it was not the entirety of what we were and what we meant to each other.

At least, I didn’t want it to be.

She was the woman that I loved, the mother of my children, and though I had so cruelly broken our mating bond in the past, I know wanted nothing more than to see it restored.

First, I had to convince her that I was genuine, that I was her perfect match, and that I had learned and grown from those years past where I had held her heart and then smashed it.

Looking down at her now, at her face slack with sleep, beautiful even with yesterday’s makeup smudged and smeared around her eyes, I was blown away by how deeply I felt my love for her. It ached in the core of my heart being this close to her yet knowing that she wasn’t yet mine.

I held her gently, not wanting to wake her. She was my priceless treasure, and I would treat her as such.

For now, though, I would let her sleep.

What I needed to think about, to plan, was how exactly I could win her back more fully. Last night had been a good step in the right direction, but it was no guarantee. We’d had sex in the past and still hadn’t progressed with our romantic relationship.

Cara had her walls up against me, afraid to trust me again after all that I had done in the past. I understood why she felt this way. Even misguided as I had been, believing that Cara had only ever been after my family’s wealth, I still treated her in the worst possible ways.

I disrespected her as my mate and as a person. I had no cherished her as a werewolf should his fated mate.

Her leaving me and keeping the kids from me had been a just punishment for the ass I had been back then. And I imagined that I had yet to fully convince her I wasn’t that man anymore.

What could I do but continue to try to be the best man I could be now, to slowly show her over time that I had changed? Perhaps… yes… what if I showed her what life would be like now, if she chose me as her partner again?

Carefully, I began to unravel her limbs from my own, all while moving slowly as to not wake her or disturb her peaceful slumber.

Inch my inch, I untangled myself and then slipped off the bed. Standing beside it, I was distracted for a long few minutes, looking at the shape of her, stretched out peacefully under my sheets and blankets.

Gods, if only this was a sight I could wake up to every morning, even the hard days would be so easy to get through knowing I would have her on the other side.

With great effort, I pulled myself away, straightened my clothes a little, and stepped out into the hallway, soundlessly closing the bedroom door behind me.

Cara’s POV

When I blinked my eyes open, I was alone in Alaric’s bed, with his side of the mattress cooling under my hand. I had just been having the most wonderful dream, reliving the highlights of the night before, but now that warm pleasantness that had blossomed within me immediately froze over.

Alaric had left me here.

No, I chastised myself. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Too much lately I had always been willing to believe the worst in Alaric. Given our past, he had trained me to feel this way, but lately, he had been putting in real effort to be there for me and our children.

He wouldn’t just love and leave me. Not again.

Wanting to believe that more than actually believing it, I pushed myself up onto my elbows on the bed and looked around. He wasn’t by the dresser, not sitting in the chair. The closet door was closed shut. The attached bathroom light was flicked off.

He wasn’t anywhere in these rooms.

Seeing that, the cold feeling I had been trying to push back slowly started to take over me again.

Maybe this hadn’t been all that different to our heated encounters in the past. We had our fun, and now he was subtly telling me to get out. I supposed there had been some kindness in allowing me to stay the night with him, rather than forcing me to leave the room before I fell asleep.

A sense of numbness followed the chill that stretched through my body. Rejection hurt, especially like this, especially from Alaric, who I had been starting to trust once again.

I wouldn’t cry, though. I refused to shed even one more tear for this man than I had already done so many times in the past. If he couldn’t see the person I was, if he couldn’t appreciate what he had right in front of him, then I didn’t care if –

The door to the bedroom opened.

“Oh good, you are awake. I was worried this breakfast might get cold before you could eat it.”

Holding a tray of food and coffee, Alaric walked through the door, then lightly kicked it closed behind him.

As he came closer to the bed, he said, “Here. Sit up.”

I did as he asked. Turning, I pulled myself upright, resting my back against the headboard with my legs stretched out in front of me.

Alaric gently placed the tray over me on the bed. It had little leg attachments so that it didn’t fully rest on me and I could reposition a little underneath.

On the tray were lopsided pancakes covered in butter and syrup, with a cup of fruit off to the side. Silverware was placed over a folded napkin. Two empty mugs bracketed a carafe of coffee that he lifted and poured.

One of him and one for me. After setting the carafe to the side, he picked up his own mug and, stepping back, sipped it.

“Careful,” he said. “I just made everything, so it’s hot.”

I looked more closely at the lopsided pancakes. Their general uneven shape did give off a sort of amateurish feel.

“You made this?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “It didn’t feel enough to bring you breakfast in bed that someone else had made. I asked the cook to show me how to make the pancakes myself.”

I looked up at him in disbelief. He didn’t just order someone else to make me breakfast, he put in the effort to do it himself.

He made this effort. For me. Just to give me a good morning.

The coldness inside of myself thawed in an instant, as my doubts and worries slipped away.

Maybe things were going to be different this time. Maybe he had truly changed.

Maybe I could allow myself to fall for him once again.

And maybe he wouldn’t hurt me this time.