Chapter 62 62
Aurélie POV
Delphine lay asleep beside me in the double bed. I’d managed to drift off earlier, only to wake around five. Now it was six, and for the past hour I’d done nothing but watch her.
The gentle rise and fall of her chest. The soft flutter of her eyelids as she dreamed. The way her arms curled tightly around her bunny teddy it all made my heart ache in the sweetest, most painful way. I promised myself that once Dominique was home, I would watch him sleep too. I would memorise every breath, every tiny movement, as if committing him to my soul.
My body, however, refused peace. Stress sat coiled beneath my skin, my heart racing as if it didn’t know how to slow anymore. The need to have him back in my arms was suffocating, triggering panic attacks I barely managed to contain only because I was alone, hidden within the safety of this room.
Six a.m.
Was it too early to go downstairs?
I’d always felt uncomfortable in other people’s homes, uneasy about moving through spaces that weren’t mine, helping myself to things that didn’t belong to me. But I didn’t want to wake Denise, and a cup of coffee might help steady me give me something to do while I checked my emails, hoping for word that Théo had reached the quarry safely.
I decided to leave Delphine sleeping. She looked peaceful, and she needed the rest.
Dark circles had begun forming beneath her eyes after too many restless nights. She hadn’t said anything, but I suspected she’d been fighting sleep, holding out as long as she could wanting to feel Dominique through their twin bond before exhaustion finally claimed her.
Moving carefully, I tiptoed across the bedroom, instinctively avoiding the spots where the floorboards always creaked beneath the carpet. I eased the door open and stepped onto the landing
and froze.
To my absolute horror, Geneviève was walking out of Damien’s Alpha rooms.
She was barely dressed, wearing one of his T-shirts a grey one with a rock band tour graphic splashed across the front, the dates printed down the back. Worse, she had nothing on underneath but lace panties, just visible beneath the hem. Her hair was tousled, that unmistakable, sexy kind of bed-messed that didn’t need explaining.
I didn’t need a science degree to know what had happened. They hadn’t just shared a bed they were actively, undeniably together.
She reached her bedroom door before finally noticing me standing there, watching. She put on a show of being flustered, embarrassed but Geneviève didn’t embarrass easily. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’d heard me stirring and had chosen that exact moment to step out, just to make sure I saw.
Downstairs, I made myself a coffee and opened my laptop on the kitchen counter. I told myself I was checking emails but my mind kept replaying the image of Geneviève leaving Damien’s bed at dawn.
And why did I care?
Why had I agreed to stay?
The ache in my chest sharpened as memories surfaced Damien pushing me aside the moment Geneviève returned. Their mate bond was powerful. Unbreakable. I hadn’t needed to witness it again. It was what drove me away in the first place.
The wife who couldn’t compete with the fated Luna.
And yet… I felt disappointed.
Why?
Disappointed that Damien had surrendered to the bond without a fight? That he hadn’t fought for me? But why would he? And worse why did a part of me wish he had?
The longer I stayed here, the more tangled my emotions became. Even my wolf was confused.
Footsteps entered the kitchen. I didn’t look up, keeping my eyes fixed on the laptop screen. I had no desire to endure Geneviève’s false embarrassment when I knew she was probably pleased I’d seen her.
“Are you up early,” Florence asks gently, “or have you not gone to bed yet?”
She stands by the table, hesitating, unsure whether she should intrude while I’ve turned the kitchen into a makeshift office.
“Up early,” I reply with a weak smile, lifting the laptop and moving aside to give her space.
As I settle at the table, she brings my coffee over and sets it beside the laptop.
“Thanks,” I say quietly. “I made quite a bit help yourself.”
“That’s alright,” she replies. “I imagine you made some for Fabrice too.”
I catch the frown before she turns away.
“No,” I correct softly. “He’s in the spare room next to mine.”
She doesn’t comment, and the silence feels heavy like something unsaid pressing between us.
“You should give him a chance,” I say.
“I can’t,” she whispers. “He doesn’t belong to me.”
“He’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember,” I continue. “He was meant to become beta but he loved medicine just as much. He’s always been gifted. He still is. Most of the babies born into our pack come into the world under his watchful care.”
She still won’t look at me, busying herself with the upper cabinets as if they suddenly require her full attention.
I keep talking anyway.
She needs to hear it.
She needs to fight for Fabrice.