Chapter 56 Hunger In The Dark
A month had passed since Liana’s burial. The northern keep had settled into an uneasy rhythm. Fernando ruled with an iron hand, his warmth buried beneath layers of cold command. Alberto had returned to the pack, revered as the Thornwood’s keeper yet choosing to live among the slave quarters, emerging only during the full moon to offer blood and bone to the forest. Their nights together remained a fiercely guarded secret, the mate bond burning bright in stolen hours.
That night, the keep slept under a starless sky. Alberto slipped from his cot in the slave quarters, thirst pulling him toward the kitchens. The corridors were empty, torches guttered low. He moved silently, bare feet on cold stone, until he reached the vast kitchen. Embers glowed in the hearth, casting just enough light to see the clay jug on the counter. He drank deeply, water spilling down his chin.
A low voice came from the doorway. “Could not sleep either?”
Alberto turned. Fernando leaned against the frame, shirt unlaced, eyes glinting in the firelight.
“I was thirsty,” Alberto said, setting the jug down.
Fernando stepped closer, voice dropping. “So am I.”
Alberto poured a cup and offered it. Their fingers brushed. The jug tipped, water splashing across Fernando’s chest, soaking the open shirt.
“Damn,” Alberto muttered, grabbing a cloth. “Let me clean that.”
He pressed the cloth to Fernando’s skin, dabbing at the wet patch. The heat of Fernando’s body burned through the fabric.
Fernando caught his wrist. “Leave the cloth.”
Alberto looked up. “Fernando—”
Fernando dragged him close, mouth crashing against his. The kiss was hungry, desperate, teeth nipping at Alberto’s lower lip.
“I have wanted you all day,” Fernando growled against his mouth. “Every council meeting, every report, I was hard thinking of you.”
Alberto moaned into the kiss. “Take me. Right here.”
Fernando lifted him onto the counter with one arm, the wood cool against Alberto’s bare back. “You are mine tonight.”
“Always yours,” Alberto breathed, tugging at Fernando’s shirt. “Get this off.”
Fernando ripped the shirt over his head, tossing it aside. “Your turn.”
Alberto pulled his own tunic off, letting it fall. “Touch me.”
Fernando’s hands were everywhere, rough and possessive, sliding down Alberto’s chest, thumbs circling his nipples until he arched. “Like that?”
“Yes,” Alberto gasped. “Harder.”
Fernando pinched, rolled, twisted until Alberto cried out. “You make the sweetest sounds.”
Alberto’s hands fumbled with Fernando’s belt. “I need you inside me. Now.”
Fernando’s laugh was dark. “Greedy.”
He yanked Alberto’s breeches down, freeing him. Alberto’s cock sprang hard against his stomach. Fernando wrapped a fist around it, stroking slow and firm.
“Fernando,” Alberto whined. “Please.”
“Please what?” Fernando teased, thumb swiping over the head.
“Fuck me,” Alberto begged. “I want to feel you.”
Fernando spun him around, bending him over the counter. “Spread your legs.”
Alberto obeyed, palms flat on the wood, ass presented. “Do it.”
Fernando slicked his fingers with oil from a small vial he always carried now, pressing one inside without warning.
Alberto moaned loud. “More.”
A second finger joined the first, scissoring, stretching. “So tight for me.”
“Only for you,” Alberto panted. “Always only you.”
Fernando added a third finger, curling them, hitting that spot that made Alberto see stars. “Scream my name.”
“Fernando!” Alberto cried, pushing back. “Now, please!”
Fernando withdrew his fingers and lined himself up. “Ready?”
“Yes,” Alberto said. “Take me hard.”
Fernando thrust in to the hilt in one brutal stroke.
Alberto screamed, the sound echoing off the walls. “Yes! Like that!”
Fernando set a punishing rhythm, hips snapping, hands gripping Alberto’s hips hard enough to bruise. “You feel perfect.”
Alberto pushed back to meet every thrust. “Deeper. I want all of you.”
Fernando obliged, angling to hit that spot again and again. “You are mine. Say it.”
“I am yours,” Alberto gasped. “Only yours. Always.”
The counter rocked beneath them, pots clattering. Fernando reached around and stroked Alberto in time with his thrusts.
“Come for me,” Fernando commanded.
Alberto shattered, spilling over Fernando’s hand with a broken cry. The clench of his body dragged Fernando over the edge. He buried himself deep and came with a roar, filling Alberto.
They stayed locked together, breathing hard.
Fernando kissed the back of Alberto’s neck, over the claiming mark. “I love you.”
Alberto turned his head for a softer kiss. “Love you too.”
They separated slowly, cleaning up with kitchen cloths, stealing kisses between breaths.
Fernando pulled Alberto against his chest. “Stay with me tonight.”
Alberto shook his head. “Someone might see.”
Fernando’s arms tightened. “Then tomorrow night. And every night after.”
Alberto smiled. “Every night.”
They dressed in silence, stealing one last kiss before slipping away into the dark.
The first light of dawn crept over the training yard, painting the frost-covered ground in pale gold. Alberto stood among the trainees, wooden sword in hand, moving through the drills Samael had set. Every swing sent a sharp ache through his lower back and thighs. His hips protested with every shift of weight, the memory of Fernando’s grip still imprinted on his skin. He kept his face neutral, jaw clenched, refusing to let the soreness show.
Samael watched from the edge of the circle, arms folded, eyes sharp. When the current round ended, he jerked his chin.
“Alberto. A word.”
Alberto handed his practice blade to the nearest trainee and limped over, trying to hide the stiffness.
Samael studied him with a knowing smirk. “You are moving like someone sat on a cactus. Take the day off.”
Alberto straightened, forcing a casual tone. “I am fine. Just slept wrong.”
Samael snorted. “Slept wrong. Right.” He leaned in, voice dropping. “Tell me, was Fernando rough last night, or do you always walk like that after kitchen visits?”
Alberto’s face flushed crimson. “What are you talking about?”
Samael’s grin widened. “Do not play innocent with me. I know about your little sexcapades. The whole private training yard knows. You two were not exactly quiet. Moans carried all the way from the kitchen. I had to send three trainees to bed early because they would not stop giggling.”
Alberto covered his face with both hands, mortified. “Moon save me.”
Samael ruffled his hair hard enough to stagger him, then delivered a playful punch to the shoulder. “Relax. I am only teasing. And thank you.”
Alberto peeked through his fingers. “For what?”
“For bringing him back,” Samael said, voice softening. “The Alpha I saw yesterday was the closest to the old Fernando I have seen in months. Whatever you two do in private, keep doing it.”
Before Alberto could respond, a guard jogged up and bowed. “Keeper Alberto, the Alpha requests your presence in the council chamber.”
Samael leaned close and whispered, “Someone is jealous his man is talking to another wolf.” He gave Alberto a gentle shove. “Go on. I will handle the trainees.”
Alberto shot him a glare that held no heat and followed the guard, cheeks still burning.
The council chamber doors closed behind him with a soft thud.
Fernando stood at the head of the table, arms folded, expression unreadable.
“You wanted me?” Alberto asked.
Fernando’s gaze swept over him, lingering on the faint limp. “Close the door.”
Alberto obeyed.
Fernando crossed the room in three strides and pulled Alberto into his arms. “You are walking like I broke you.”
Alberto buried his face in Fernando’s neck. “You kind of did.”
Fernando’s laugh rumbled against his ear. “Good.”