Chapter 4
Juliet
I cleared my throat softly, feeling like the world's biggest idiot for not realizing sooner. "Louis?"
"Yes, Juliet?"
His voice was so careful, so controlled, but I could hear the edge of something relieved underneath—like he was finally allowed to breathe.
I pulled back the covers slightly, my heart hammering. "Do you... do you want to come under the blankets with me properly? Not just for sleep. For... this."
For a moment, he went completely still. Then: "Yes."
The word came out low and rough, like he'd been holding his breath for weeks.
Louis slipped under the covers with fluid grace, and before I could even process what was happening, he'd pulled off his shirt in one smooth motion.
'Holy fuck.'
The dim light filtering through my curtains caught the definition of his chest and shoulders. Every muscle was perfectly carved, like some artist had spent years sculpting him from marble. My eyes traced the lines of his abs, the way his biceps flexed as he settled beside me.
'His body is absolutely flawless. Jesus Christ.'
Louis moved closer, careful and deliberate, until his face was inches from mine on the pillow. He buried his nose in my hair, breathing deeply like he was trying to memorize my scent—citrus and warmth, just like the note said.
When he lifted his head to look at me, his eyes were intense—tracking from my eyebrows down to my lips with the kind of focus that made my skin prickle with heat.
'He's not looking at me like a transferred service worker looks at their employer.'
But not the fragile kind. The kind that made every nerve ending in my body light up, like I was finally where I was supposed to be.
I cleared my throat again, suddenly feeling awkward as hell.
"Look, I need to apologize," I said, my voice coming out smaller than I intended. "I've never... been around an Alpha before. I had no fucking clue about your instincts, about the anchor thing. I thought you were just... a really dedicated housekeeper who liked citrus."
Louis's breathing got heavier, and I caught a glimpse of his tail starting to twitch under the blankets—excited, not anxious.
"It's okay," he said, his voice soft but strained. "I liked being your housekeeper. Liked taking care of you."
'OMG, my poor sweetheart.'
I thought about the elder's book, about the line that said Alphas "crave to protect their anchors." That's why he cooked every night. Why he folded my sheets so carefully. Why he collected my things—because taking care of me was how he showed he cared.
I swallowed hard, feeling heat creep up my neck.
"If you're still feeling... restless," I said, my fingers brushing his chest lightly, "you could hold me. Properly. Not just for calm. For... us."
"Okay."
The word came out so fast it was almost a whisper, and for just a second, his eyes flashed with that golden light I'd started noticing—bright, alive.
Louis reached for me slowly, like he was afraid I might change my mind. One arm slipped under my back, the other curved around my waist, pulling me against his chest.
At first, he was almost respectfully careful about it—like he was afraid to break me. But when I didn't pull away, when I leaned into his warmth, something in him seemed to snap into place.
His grip tightened. His tail wrapped around my leg under the blankets, warm and surprisingly soft. He buried his face in the curve of my neck, and I could feel him breathing me in like I was air after drowning.
The rumbling sound he made was pure contentment—deep and satisfied in a way that made my entire body relax against him.
His breath was warm against my throat, and I felt my thoughts getting fuzzy around the edges.
'God, this Alpha's muscle definition is absolutely perfect,' I thought, letting my eyes drift over what I could see of his shoulders and chest. 'Sarah might never get him back, and I don't even feel guilty.'
We stayed like that for a while, Louis nuzzling against my neck while I tried not to think too hard about how good it felt to be pressed against him—like two pieces of a puzzle finally fitting.
Then he shifted slightly, lifting his head.
"Juliet," he said, his voice even lower than before, "I still feel... like I need to prove it. That you're mine. That I'm yours."
I was busy sneaking glances at his abs and replied without really thinking. "What else do you want to do?"
"Can I... mark you? Not the permanent kind. Just... a scent mark. So other wolves know you're taken."
That made me snap back to reality. I blinked up at him, suddenly aware of how intimate this already was—how much trust he was putting in me.
"Maybe we shouldn't rush it," I said, feeling my cheeks burn. "This might be a little too... fast already."
The light in Louis's eyes dimmed immediately. His tail stopped moving, and his shoulders sagged like I'd just kicked him.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, trying to pull back. "I shouldn't have asked. Being near you is enough. I'll calm down—"
"No," I said, grabbing his arm to stop him. "It's not that I don't want to. I just... need to take it slow. I've never done this before. With anyone."
I looked up into his face, seeing the careful hope he was trying to hide—the same hope that had made him collect my hair, that had made him keep the citrus jar.
"You don't have to hold back for my sake," I continued. "I'm your anchor. I need to learn how to be that for you. Just... teach me."
Louis's eyes widened slightly. "Really?"
That golden shimmer was back, brighter this time—like the sun breaking through clouds.
I bit my lip, feeling shy as hell but pushing forward anyway. "Really. Start with the scent mark. Show me what it means."
He nodded, slow and deliberate, then leaned down and rubbed his cheek against my chin—soft and gentle, like a cat marking its territory. His scent—pine and warmth—rubbed off on my skin, and I felt a strange thrill.
Then he touched his nose to my cheek, so carefully it was barely contact at all.
'This is what Alphas need,' I told myself, trying to stay rational. 'Physical closeness. Proof. It's perfectly normal.'
But when I instinctively reached up to touch where he'd nuzzled my chin, my fingers accidentally brushed against his face instead.
Louis immediately started nuzzling my hand, his eyes locked on mine while he did it. In the darkness, those golden flecks in his irises were almost glowing.
'Jesus fucking Christ, he's going to be the death of me.'
The gentle, tentative touching was driving me crazy. I couldn't take the slow, careful approach anymore—not when he looked at me like that.
I reached down and gave his tail a light tug.
"Louis," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Stop being so careful. I trust you."
I met his eyes directly. "Show me what it means to be your anchor. Okay?"
His tail went completely still for a moment, and then the tip started to wag just slightly—like he was trying to contain his excitement but couldn't quite manage it.