Chapter 30 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ALORA
The nightmare jolts me awake at two in the morning. I'm drenched in sweat, my heart pounding, the images still vivid behind my eyelids—Northern Pack wolves tearing through the safe room, blood everywhere, wounded warriors I couldn't save...
I press my hands over my mouth to stifle a sob. It felt so real. Too real.
My skin burns, hotter than usual. Two days until my birthday, and the changes are accelerating. I can feel my wolf closer to the surface, my control slipping with each passing hour.
I throw off the covers and stumble to the bathroom, turning on the cold water. I splash it on my face, my wrists, anywhere I can reach, trying to cool the fever burning beneath my skin.
It doesn't help.
I sink to the bathroom floor, pressing my cheek against the cool tile. Maybe if I stay here, away from windows, away from everyone, I can make it through the next two days without—
A sound from the main room makes me freeze. The connecting door opening.
"Alora?"
Alpha Stone's voice. I didn't lock the door from my side—stupid, stupid mistake.
"I'm fine, my Lord," I call out, my voice shakier than I'd like. "Just using the bathroom."
His footsteps approach. "The walls are thin. I heard you crying."
Embarrassment floods through me. "I apologize for disturbing you, my Lord. I'll be quieter—"
"That's not—" He stops at the bathroom doorway, and I see his feet, bare against the marble floor. "Are you on the floor?"
"I was just cooling down. The tile helps."
"You're burning up." His voice sharpens. "How long have you had a fever?"
"It's nothing, my Lord. It will pass."
"Stand up."
I obey on shaky legs, keeping my eyes down. I'm only wearing my nightgown, and I'm acutely aware of how thin the fabric is, how my hair is disheveled from sleep.
His hand reaches out—I see it coming—and I instinctively step back.
He freezes. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm checking your temperature."
"I know, my Lord. I just—" I force myself to stand still as his palm presses briefly against my forehead.
The contact sends an unexpected jolt through me. Not painful, but... something else. Something that makes my breath catch and my wolf surge forward with interest.
He pulls back immediately, his expression unreadable. "You're burning up. When did this start?"
"Tonight, my Lord."
"Two days before your birthday." It's not a question. His eyes narrow slightly. "Interesting timing."
I don't respond, wrapping my arms around myself.
"Back to bed. You need rest." He steps aside, gesturing toward my room.
"Yes, my Lord."
I move past him quickly, hyperaware of his presence, of how his scent fills the small bathroom. Pine and smoke and something that makes my wolf restless.
"Alora."
I pause at my doorway, not turning around.
"If the fever worsens, wake me. Understood?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"I mean it. I can't have my personal slave collapsing from illness." His voice is cool, businesslike. "You're no use to me if you're incapacitated."
The words sting, a reminder of what I am to him. Property. A tool.
"Of course, my Lord. I apologize."
I close the door between us and lean against it, my heart pounding. That brief touch of his hand against my forehead—why did it affect me so strongly? Why did my wolf respond with such intensity?
Through the door, I hear him moving around. Then his voice, speaking to someone—probably Marcus through a phone or pack link.
"Monitor her closely tomorrow. If she tries to leave her quarters, I want to know immediately."
A pause.
"No, I don't know what's happening. But whatever it is, it's connected to her birthday. And I'm not taking chances."
Another pause.
"Just do it."
I slide down to sit on the floor, my back against the door. He's not concerned about me—he's concerned about what I might do. What I might reveal.
I wrap my arms around my knees, fighting back tears. The fever still burns, worse now without the cool tile beneath me. And something else burns too—a strange yearning that started the moment he touched me.
My wolf paces restlessly, wanting to go back through that door. Wanting to be near him.
No. This is just the changes affecting me. The blood-wolf maturation is making me confused, vulnerable.
It's not real.
It can't be real.
I force myself to crawl back into bed, pulling the covers over my head. Through the thin walls, I can hear him in his room. The creak of his bed as he lies back down. His steady breathing.
And my wolf, traitor that she is, finds comfort in those sounds. Settles slightly at his proximity.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing sleep to come.
Two more days.
Two more days until he sees what I really am.
Two more days until whatever this strange pull is between us gets destroyed by the truth.
But deep in my chest, something aches at the thought. Something that whispers this feeling, this inexplicable draw toward him, might be more than just blood-wolf changes.
Might be something far more dangerous.
Something I can never, ever acknowledge.
Because Alphas and blood-wolves don't get happy endings.
They only get tragedy.
And I refuse to be the curse that destroys Alexander Stone.
Even if denying this pull between us tears me apart in the process.