Chapter Twenty-Two
DYLAN
The second time I woke up, it was morning—maybe even afternoon.
The clock was on the wall behind me but I was too comfy to crane my neck even an inch to check.
I was no longer on my side with Caine at my back.
He was lying flat, and I was burrowed against him, my arm over his chest and my leg hooked over his thighs.
I was aching, but it was a good ache. My muscles were loose and relaxed, and there was no sticky mess between my legs, only a dull throb of the well-fucked variety. And satedness.
His knot had stayed inside me longer than usual, reacting to the manifestation of the bond—I couldn’t get pregnant outside my heat, but damn had his body tried.
I lifted my fingers to my neck, hissing lightly but smiling at the raw wound already scabbing there.
It would be fully healed within a few days, a raised bite mark, showing the world I was properly claimed.
That I belonged to an Alpha. I glanced up at Caine, at the matching teeth indents on the juncture of his neck—red, new, and permanent.
He belonged to me too.
Caine seemed settled, sleeping peacefully, his face blank and his breathing even.
I wondered if this was the first full night’s sleep he’d had in a while.
He spent most of his time covering up his pain, and enduring his exhaustion.
It showed in his irritability—though that was partly just his character—in the shadow under his eye, and in his constant need to be occupied.
Like if he paused, he’d collapse, and he didn’t have time for it.
He didn’t get headaches as often now as in the beginning, I guessed from his revelation about my scent alleviating his pain.
He used to rub at his temples when he thought no one was looking, and I’d assumed it was because of his eye, but now he only did it when I irritated the fuck out of him. Works for me.
Huffing a soft laugh, I gazed at him properly. Yeah, he looked at ease, and if the airy, almost sedated sensation in my chest was anything to go by, he felt it too.
“I can sense your eyes on me,” he grumbled, his voice rough. “I can feel your emotions too. Contentment, amusement, satisfaction. They’re . . . turbulent.”
“Too much?”
His eye blinked open, and he stretched out his shoulders before folding one of his arms behind his head, angling himself so he could see me better. “No.”
I traced the abstract tattoo swirling across his ribs with my fingers. It resembled smoke. “Compared to what you’re used to, it must be disorienting.”
He hummed. “I knew you were an emotional being, you wear it openly, but feeling is different from observing. I’ll learn quicker this way. Understand you more.”
“You understand me just fine,” I admitted, and he reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
“Plus, I talk about comparisons, but you’re not exactly quiet yourself.
It must have been exhausting having to suppress all of these.
Or did they materialise with your epiphany on the dance floor? ”
“Most are . . . relatively new,” he confirmed. “Half of what I feel now, I’ve never felt before. Never knew I could feel it, or was never permitted to. You’ve unlocked emotions in me I didn’t believe existed, coaxed them closer to the surface.”
I shifted, crossing my arms over his chest and resting my head on the back of my hands.
My pecs were a little fuller now, and he seemed to be acutely aware of them pressing against him, his gaze dropping momentarily to check them out.
I smirked. “So, do you still think instinct forces feelings? Or are you way past that?”
My teasing tone earned his driest look. “I already realised I was wrong.”
“Just making sure,” I chirped, leaning in to press a kiss to his stubbled chin.
He seemed slightly stunned by the action, as if the “kissing achievement” hadn’t yet fully registered with him—even though he’d been the one to unlock it in the first place.
“Glad you figured it out before bonding. You wouldn’t have had ‘proof’ otherwise. ”
He nodded. “So my caution and disengagement were actually well founded?”
“Wouldn’t say that.” I snorted. “But you needed to come to the conclusion without all the added shit. Just like I needed to realise I had a choice, and while this isn’t a particularly wholesome situation, it’s what I want. We’re well matched.”
“How did that admission taste?”
I screwed up my face. “Like fucking poison.”
He huffed a laugh, and it was tender, but then his fingers threaded through my hair, guiding me closer to him.
His expression held an implication of darkness, and a glimmer of possessiveness reflected inside me.
“To be clear,” his tone was gruff and growly, but not because of sleep.
It made me shiver. “If you had taken anyone else inside you, even before I recognised my feelings, I would have killed them. I may have intuitively left our arrangement open to the possibility of you seeking another—for the sake of free will—but they would have been dead as soon I smelled them on you, and I would have fucked you in their blood.”
“Fuck,” I gasped, and he grazed his teeth along my jaw. “Why is that so hot?”
“You’re attracted to danger,” he observed. Correctly. “You might condemn my business, but the thought of it, the forbiddenness, the brutality, you’re drawn to it like a moth to a flame. You said it yourself: we’re perfectly matched.”
My hips twitched, my soft cock dragging against his thigh.
I didn’t have another orgasm in me—I’d need another day at least to recover—but he sure knew how to light me up from the inside out, my nerves singing with pleasure and sensation.
He pulled me in, claiming my mouth with his, his tongue seeking entry.
I melted into it, letting him take control of the pace.
The copper tang of my blood still lingered on his breath, making the whole vision he painted even more viscerally vivid.
Maybe I wouldn’t need a recovery after all.
There was a knock at the door, and before I could retreat, Edith was wandering in as she usually did every morning.
“Just me, lovely. Little Miss couldn’t wait to—” Her eyes landed on the bed, on the position we were still in because I’d frozen and Caine’s grip on me hadn’t loosened a bit.
She started to stutter, cheeks flushed, tearing her gaze away.
“Forgive me, I didn’t expect . . . We’ll leave you be. ”
“Alpha! Daddy!” Minnie gasped, barrelling through the door.
“Minnie, no—” Edith lurched forward to catch her, but was too slow.
I swore, she was like a baby cheetah.
I leapt off Caine, putting distance between us and wrapping the sheets around myself.
I wasn’t bothered about Minnie seeing me naked, I’d birthed her, but I still wanted to preserve some semblance of modesty, given the circumstances.
Caine sat up, leaning against the headboard, the blankets naturally draping over his lap, covering everything important.
I was just grateful he was so diligent in the whole aftercare thing, because it meant the blankets were fresh and we were clean enough for company.
“It’s alright, Edith,” I said, smiling kindly. “But, uh, let’s just say—” I cleared my throat. “Going forward, I’ll shout if it’s safe for you to come in.”
She nodded. “Noted.”
She left, and Minnie was already attempting to scale the bed.
She huffed in frustration when she couldn’t get her leg high enough, and with a scowl, aimed grabby hands at us instead.
I bent over, lifting her up and into the empty space.
She clapped her hands excitedly as if sensing our amity toward each other. The thought pleased me.
She pointed at Caine. “Alpha here.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Alpha’s here too.”
She smiled happily. He was still her favourite—a fact that irked me a fraction less than before.
It never failed to both impress and sadden me how quickly she was progressing.
It was probably a regular speed in terms of milestones, but it felt as if I’d blinked and she was suddenly not wobbling anymore when she walked, and she could say more than one tangled word at a time.
It was bittersweet. Equally whizzing by too fast, but also, my pride for her every little achievement was palpable.
Alpha was an overnight thing, I was sure of it—she just woke up one day being able to enunciate the word clearly.
Still refused to call him Dad, though.
She did what she wanted. Always.
“Alpha . . .” She was staring intently at him, like she’d spotted a detail she hadn’t before. Her eyebrows were scrunched, her lips downturned. “Ouch?”
He frowned, not understanding her meaning. “What’s ouch, princess?”
Fuck him and his pet names.
I followed her line of sight, and . . . Ah.
“Your eye,” I pointed out, and it visibly dawned on him that his patch was still off. I could feel his mortification. His internal strife. His fingers flexed in the sheets.
“I forgot to—”
Minnie whimpered.
“Alpha doesn’t have an ouch, baby,” I assured her before she got too worked up—before they both did. I hugged her from behind, kissing her cheek until the tension left her little frame. “You don’t have to worry. He’s alright.”
There was another recent development. She was starting to discover empathy.
She’d tried to soothe me once or twice whenever I accidentally trapped my finger in a drawer or stepped on a building block—those fuckers hurt like all hell, and they would’ve been binned long ago if I wasn’t certain she’d notice.
She would show distress, and offer comfort in the form of a hug or handing me her favourite toy.
It had me tearing up every single time.