Freya’s POV
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When I bent down to untie my sneakers, the pain at my ribs shot sharp enough to steal my breath.
“Doctor, he’s not―” I started, but my words froze in my throat.
+8 Pearls
Ss Whitmor was already crouched in front of me. The Alpha of the Irond Coalition, the man who ruled with steel and fire, was holding my ankle in one hand like it weighed nothing. His other hand moved with precise ease as he worked the knot of myces free.
“The doctor is right,” he said, voice quiet, edged in iron. “You’re injured. Don’t strain yourself.”
I could only stare, stunned, as he slid my shoe off, then the other.
The Alpha of Irond… taking off my shoes? My heart thudded unevenly in my chest. It felt wrong, surreal–like the moon herself had flipped the world upside down.
Before I could recover, he scooped me into his arms.
“What–what are you doing?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, nerves prickling down my spine.
“You want to walk barefoot on hospital floors?” His tone stayed maddeningly calm, as if this was nothing, as if carrying me was a simple necessity.
Heid me gently on the examination cot, careful enough that it sent another confusing twist through my chest. The doctor began his work, prodding bruises<b>, </b>muttering about fractures and resilience, while Ss waited beyond the curtain, expression unreadable.
When it was over, the doctor prescribed medicine and waved us off.
Back in the <b>car</b>, I couldn’t stop ncing at Ss’s hands. Strong, elegant, dangerous–hands made for wielding ws, for tearing throats, formanding an army. Yet those same hands had just loosened my shoces with ridiculous care. Andter… tied them back again.
“You really do like my hands, don’t you?” His <b>voice </b>cut the silence, smooth and sudden.
Heat flushed my cheeks<b>, </b>and I coughed to cover it. “I <b>was</b><b>… </b>just thinking. About earlier. Thank you<b>, </b>for… helping me.”
“You should thank me. I don’t do that for people,” he replied simply.
The <b>car </b>fell quiet again until his low voice came once more. “How do you n on thanking me?”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Didn’t <b>I </b><b>just</b>…<b>?</b><b>” </b>
oward
His gaze flicked toward me<b>, </b>sharp enough to pin me in <b>ce</b><b>. </b><b>“</b>Or <b>are </b><b>you </b>the kind who only says thanks with words?”
My lips pressed together. “Then maybe <b>I </b>should return the favor. Take off your shoes. Tie yources<b>.</b><b>” </b>
His mouth curved in something that wasn’t quite <b>a </b>smile. “Not necessary. But there is one thing I want. Stop calling me <b>‘</b>Mr. Whitmor. It’s 100… distant.”
I frowned. The problem <b>was</b>, I wanted distance. “Then… what? Should I call you Alpha?”
“Call me Ss<b>.</b><b>” </b>His tone left no room for argument. “Three months. Freya. For three months, you’ll be at my side. No need for titles between us<b>.</b><b>” </b>
exhaled slowly. “Fine. Ss”
“Good.” His lips shaped my name, but softer, lower. <b>“</b>And I’ll call you Freya. Or perhaps… little wolf.”
The sound slid down my spine like ws tracing <b>over </b>skin. I stiffened, forcing my expression t. Too many <b>people </b>had called me Freya before–my father, my mother, my brother, packmates. But never like this. His voice made it sound <b>like </b>
12:53 PM P P
something else entirely: a im, a warning, a temptation.
I shook it off, burying the strange shiver in my chest.
+8 Pearls
By the time the car stopped, I looked up to see a sprawling estate. Whitmor territory. Ss’s stronghold within the city.
“This is my residence when I’m in the Ashbourne,” he exined, leading me inside. “You’ll stay in the room next to mine. Close enough to guard me.”
The halls smelled of polished wood and old steel, tinged faintly with wolf. Servants moved with quiet efficiency, eyes lowered in submission. This was no simple house–it was a den carved in iron.
“You may enter any room you like,” Ss continued as he stopped at a corridor. “Except one. The door at the end of the third floor That one, you will never open.”
I froze. The words slotted into me like a story whispered at the edge of firelight.
A forbidden door. Amand wrapped in shadow.
Like something out of an old tale where the monster hides its secrets in a locked room.
And I had just been warned not to look.