Third Person’s POV
@
+8 Pearls
“Caelum, if you still cannot forget Freya, it doesn’t matter. I can wait. Tonight, pretend I never said a word. Go back to your room, don’t worry about me.”
Her words struck a chord, tugging at ces inside him he thought long buried.
“No,” Caelum growled, his tone rough and urgent. “How could I ever not care about you? And besides–Freya and I have already gone through the Lunar Severance Phase. Whatever bond we had, it’s finished. I will not feel anything more for her.”
Aurora’s lips curved into the faintest smile. In the flicker of candlelight, it was almost triumphant. Her arms wrapped around his broad frame, pressing her warmth into him. This time, Caelum did not push her away.
Even though just hours earlier, on the call, he hadn’t had the chance to ask—who had truly saved him years ago? His instincts whispered that it must have been Aurora. Yes, it had to be. The thought settled inside him like a drug.
He had ordered his people to dig into the past, to verify what he already wanted to believe. But deep down, he knew—it wasn’t Freya. It could never be Freya. He wouldn’t let her shadow touch him again.
And so, he surrendered.
That night, Caelum let himself sink into Aurora’s embrace, into the haze she wove around him. When it was over, his wolf /exhausted, he drifted into a deep, oblivious sleep.
Aurora, however, did not.
Long after his steady breaths filled the chamber, she stirred. Slipping free of his arms, she moved with practiced silence. Her hand dipped into the pocket of his discarded jacket. Her fingers brushed against the smooth surface of his WolfComm device.
With a subtle swipe, she unlocked it. He had never told her the code, but Caelum had never shielded it from her either. She had seen enough times to remember.
Her eyes gleamed as she scrolled through the recent call log. There it was–thest number, the voice that had unsettled him before he turned to her.
Aurora memorized the digits, then ced the WolfComm back exactly where she found it. No evidence. No suspicion. Only quiet control.
Slipping beneath the furs again, shey beside the slumbering Alpha, studying his sharp jaw, the faint crease still etched
between his brows<b>. </b>
“Caelum,” she whispered, her voice a mixture of tenderness and steel. “Don’t me me. Wolves who are selfless get torn apart. Only the selfish survive.”
Yes. She would survive<b>. </b>She would thrive. Whatever it took.
The next morning, far from the Silverfang stronghold, dawn broke over Ashbourne. Freya Whitmor residence, her eyes immediately catching on Ss.
Bepped into the sunlit hall of the
The Alpha of the Irond Coalition did not look like his usualposed self. His golden shadows, his aura sharp but frayed at the edges.
“You didn’t sleep well?” Freya asked, her brow knitting slightly.
eyes
do were rimmed with faint
“A little, Ss admitted, his voice clipped He did not add that he had spent most of the night restless, consumed by the memory of her lips against his. That single kiss had set his blood on fire, his wolf prowling under his skin until he was forced to stand beneath cold showers again and again, fighting the heat wing through him.
“Then rest in the carter,” Freya said, her tone soft but firm. “The drive to the Whitmorpany branch in Ashbourne will take at least thirty minutes.”
“Alright.” The great Alpha of the Irond Coalition, <b>the </b>man whose name struck fear and <b>respect </b>across territories, lowered his head and agreed with quiet obedience.
10:09 AM
+8 Pearls
Wren, his secretary seated nearby, had grown almost numb to this side of his Alpha. At first, the sight of the cold and imperious Ss softening under Freya’s presence had stunned him. Now, he simply epted it.
Who could have imagined? The Alpha feared by nations, a man as unyielding as iron, could look so much like a loyal hound
in front of one woman.
He still remembered the day he first learned of their rtionship. He’d thought lightning had cracked his skull. The shock was unforgettable. Since then, every tender nce, every softened word Ss gave Freya–Wren simply forced himself to remainposed, even as it felt like witnessing the impossible.
After breakfast, Ss and Freya boarded the armored vehicle.
“Rest for a bit, Freya told him gently.
“Can I lean against you?” Ss asked.
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
med
Slowly, his body leaned toward her, but rather than immediately resting on her shoulder, he angled his head upward, his piercing gaze fixed on her.
“What is it?” Freya asked, puzzled by his hesitation.
“You.. don’t want to kiss me?” His voice was low, quiet, yet it carried the weight of a wolf’s yearning.
Freya’s lips parted in shock.
Wren, hands gripping the steering wheel, nearly swerved. The words of his Alpha, the Irond’s unshakable leader, were <b>so </b>absurdly soft–so human–that hisposure cracked.
Freya hissed under her breath, “Your Beta is right there!”
In the rearview mirror, Wren caught his Alpha’s deathly re and nearly shrank in his seat.
“I only drive,” Wren said hastily, his voice trembling. “I see nothing, I hear nothing.”
“Do you want it?” Ss whispered again, his tone husky, dangerous in its need. Or was he the only one haunted byst night’s kiss, restless and insatiable?
The image was devastating–an Alpha of his stature, a man born to dominate, reduced to this vulnerable longing. His striking face, his wolf aura simmering just beneath his skin, all wrapped around those simple words: Do you want me?
Freya’s heart clenched. How could she deny him when he looked
at her like that?”
he was hers?
Her eyes flicked to the front, where Wren sat stiff <b>as </b>stone. Then back to Ss, who seemed ready to break.
She sighed softly. “Fine. You’re my mate, after all. I’ll indulge you.”
Her fingers brushed his strong jaw, tilting his face toward her. Then her lips pressed against his, a kiss that silenced his wolf and set fire through her veins.
His scent enveloped her–powerful, intoxicating, wholly male. Despite his terrifying reputation, in this moment he yieldedpletely, letting her take control, letting her kiss him as though he belonged entirely to her.
And he did.
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