171

171


ALTHEA

I tried to focus on the picnic spread—on the bread, the cheese, the tiny pastries Kaylie had helped with—but Alpha Collin had other plans.
He leaned back slightly on his elbows, casual and dangerous, eyes flicking to me like he was savoring the way I tried—and failed—to act normal.
“You’re not eating much,” he said softly. “Are you nervous?”
I huffed. “I’m not nervous.”
“Yes, you are,” he replied, tilting his head. “Your shoulders are tense. Your hands fidget. And you keep glancing at me instead of your food.”
I glared, cheeks heating instantly. “I’m… calculating the caloric intake. For… science.”
He chuckled, low and amused. “Of course. Science.” His gaze drifted to my lips for a heartbeat too long, and my stomach did something traitorous.
I shifted awkwardly on the blanket, trying to put more distance between us. He didn’t move—didn’t need to. His presence stretched across the space between us like a living thing.
“Why do you do that?” I asked, voice tight. “Why do you always have to be so… aware?”
“Because it’s fun,” he said casually. “Because it works. And because I like watching you blush.”
I groaned and buried my face in my hands. “You are impossible.”
“And yet,” he said softly, leaning closer, “here you are, sitting and fidgeting and melting despite yourself.”
My stomach fluttered at the word melting. Hated it. Hated that my body obeyed him even when my mind screamed not to.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” I muttered, lifting my face to glare at him.
“Yes,” he said, voice soft and dangerous. “I enjoy every second of you struggling to keep control. Especially when you fail so… beautifully.”
I flinched. The word beautifully burned like fire across my chest.
He noticed. Of course, he noticed. He always noticed. And he leaned a little closer—not close enough to touch, but close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him.
“You know,” he said quietly, voice teasing, “if you really wanted to, you could lean in. Just a little. I wouldn’t stop you.”
I swallowed hard. “I… I don’t want to.”
“Yes, you do,” he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear. “Your pulse, your breath, the way your fingers fidget… it’s betraying you. Every inch of you wants me closer.”
I felt my ears burn. “I—”
“Shhh,” he interrupted softly, lifting a finger to my lips, just hovering there. “I’m not going to kiss you. Not yet. But I wanted you to feel the temptation. To remember that I’m here. And that I’m yours. Even if you fight it.”
Heat rolled through me like wildfire. I wanted to pull back. I wanted to run. I wanted to act like the Luna everyone respected.
But my body betrayed me.
I shivered despite myself.
“Stop enjoying this,” I whispered, voice tight.
“No,” he said, calm and unflinching. “I’m enjoying the view.”
I groaned and pressed my face into the blanket, frustrated beyond reason. “You’re impossible,” I muttered again, though my body betrayed my words completely.
“And yet,” he said softly, leaning just enough that I could feel his warmth against my shoulder, “you’re still here. Still fidgeting. Still blushing. Still… this.”
I bit back a moan—not out of shame, but because I couldn’t help it. The way he leaned there, casual, patient, teasing, yet utterly commanding… it unraveled me in ways I hated.
“You’re enjoying that too, aren’t you?” I hissed.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “Every second of it.”
And then, just to torment me further, he shifted slightly, letting his knee brush mine. The contact was light, almost accidental—but my body reacted instantly, heat pooling low and breath catching in my throat.
“Stop…” I whispered, curling my hands into fists.
“Nope,” he said, smirking. “Not yet. You’re mine. Even when you fight it.”
I groaned, hiding my face in the blanket again, cheeks burning, heart hammering. I hated him. Hated myself. Hated how easily he could make me collapse under his gaze without even touching me.
He chuckled softly, leaning back on his elbows again, hands braced behind him as he watched me, the predator and the patient Alpha all in one. “I could kiss you,” he murmured, voice low, teasing. “But I won’t. Not yet.”
I groaned. “I hate that you do this.”
“And I love it,” he said, voice soft, almost affectionate. “That’s the difference.”
I peeked up at him through my lashes, cheeks crimson. “I… I don’t even know why I let you do this.”
“Because you want to,” he said simply, calm, steady, undeniable. “Even if you don’t admit it to yourself.”
I closed my eyes, exhaling shakily. I hated that he was right. Hated that I wanted him close despite everything. Hated that every teasing word, every brush of warmth, every near touch made me forget the Luna, the warrior, the woman who fought for her pack.
And he noticed. Of course he noticed. His smile widened, slow and deliberate, enjoying every flicker of my weakness.
“You’re adorable when you fight me,” he murmured. “Every flare of defiance, every blush, every whimper. It’s… irresistible.”
I groaned again, shoving my face into the blanket, but my body still leaned toward him. My heart still hammered in my rib cage.
He leaned closer again, just enough that I could feel the brush of his arm against mine, the heat of him radiating in the sun-warmed air. I wanted to pull away—but couldn’t. I hated how much I didn’t want to.
“Why do you do this to me?” I whispered, voice trembling.
“Because,” he said softly, leaning his forehead lightly against mine, “I want you to feel safe, even when your body betrays you. I want you to know that I’ll wait. That I’ll be patient. And I want you to know… that I enjoy every second of this chaos we create together.”
I wanted to argue. I wanted to push him away. But the warmth, the tease, the closeness—it was intoxicating. I let myself melt just a little, hating the betrayal of my own body while feeling it more fully than ever.
“Damn you,” I whispered, barely audible.
He chuckled, that low, dangerous sound that made my insides twist, and pressed a light kiss—not to my lips, but to my temple.
“You’re mine,” he said quietly, almost a promise.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t argue.
Because, despite myself, I wanted him too.