He didn’t answer. But his jaw clenched.
“You could’ve broken every single one of them that sat in this room.” Still no reply. “But you didn’t.” I narrowed my eyes as he stonewalled me. “Wolfe,don’tdo this.”
Finally, he let out a deep sigh. “Would it have made me a better alpha?” he asked quietly.
“No,” I said. “I think it would’ve been easier than this, but no, not better.”
He huffed a humorless breath. “Easy doesn’t hold a pack together.”
I moved to him. Rested my hand on the back of his neck, fingers threading into the damp hair there.
“You did what you had to. But that kind of power—it doesn’t leave you untouched. It’s why only alphas have it,” I reminded him.
His shoulders sank a little, his head leaning back into my hand.
“Let me touch you now,” I whispered. “The wayIwant to.”
I stepped into the V of his legs and pulled him toward me until his forehead rested against my belly. His arms wrapped around my hips, slow and heavy like it hurt to lift them.
I stroked his hair. “You’re not alone,” I said. “Not anymore.” My hands stroked along his shoulders, feeling the knots there, kneading them to get him to loosen up. “You did what you had to, for our pack. You did nothing wrong.”
He didn’t respond with words. Just held on tighter. Minutes passed. The air in the room shifted again—not heavy this time. Justquiet. Like the Hollow itself had exhaled.
He leaned back enough to look up at me. “I’m sorry.”
My brow furrowed in confusion. “For what?”
“For leaning on the bond like that. For needing you the way I did.”
I cupped his face. “Don’t be. That’s what the mate bond isfor.To carry weight when one of us needs it.”
He pressed a kiss to my stomach, just above my waistband. Soft. Wordless.
I tugged his hand. “Come on,” I said. “You need sleep. Real sleep. Not passed-out-on-a-chair sleep.”
He didn’t argue or protest. Just stood. I knew for definite that he was exhausted as we made our way quietly back to the house. I knew one if not two of his betas followed, but I didn’t look back. No one bothered us as we made our way home.
Inside, he let me lead him back through the living room, and the hall, and to the bed that—hours ago—we’d only half claimed.
He let me help him with his clothes, and then slowly he undressed me. His mouth skimmed over my shoulder as he lay me back on the bed, his body covering mine. His fingers stroked softly between my legs, and then he pushed into me gently, with none of the previous urgency.
This time, there was no overwhelming heat. No ravenous hunger. Only skin on skin. Breath on breath. Bodies moving slowly together, intertwined and gentle. Healing each other with our touch and our lovemaking. There was nothing between us anymore, only the bond holding steady, and when I called his name on a broken breath, and he emptied deep inside me, I felt the bond settle into a slow, steady hum.
Wolfe collapsed into the bed, pulling me closer, and I curled around into his side like I was the only shield he had left.
Even with his arms around me, even with his breathing evening out against my collarbone, my mind didn’t rest.
Wolfe was asleep.
I could feel it in the way his body softened—still thick, but no longer tense. His breathing had slowed. The tight coil of power that usually hummed just beneath his skin had finally quieted.
But my own thoughts refused to do the same.
I lay still, letting him stay wrapped around me, one of his arms locked loosely over my hip. But my eyes were open, tracing the shadows on the ceiling.
What one of the shifters said kept looping through my head. They wanted to keep the packs separate.
It wasn’t just convenient. It was intentional. A system, not an accident. Someone designed this—compartmentalized trust. Prevented shared knowledge.
