Chapter 20 - Luke
The shift in me doesn’t happen all at once. It’s gradual, but unmistakable.
In the days following the festival attack, I find myself watching Sera more closely, though, not out of suspicion or caution, but because I can’t bring myself to stop.
Even if she doesn’t owe them anything, she defended the pack and drained herself to exhaustion doing it. That does something to a man, especially an Alpha and a mate.
I catch myself being more attentive now, even if it’s just through small acts. I bring her water when she doesn’t ask, I make sure she eats, and I touch her gently in passing, light and respectful, like checking on the bond through skin.
Without being too suffocating, I let her know I’m here and that none of this is out of obligation for me. I’m choosing this, just as I want her to choose me.
Wraith Peak hasn’t made another move yet, but that doesn’t mean they won’t, so patrols have doubled, and our perimeter checks have tightened as a precaution. Even while tension still lingers within the pack, things have been quiet, and I’m taking full advantage of it.
By the time morning arrives, I wake before she does, greeted by the still bedroom and her next to me, warm and tangled up in the sheets. She’s curled on her side facing me, and for a moment, I just watch as she breathes.
Not that long ago, she wasn’t willing to share a bed with me, at least, not on her own terms. But now, she sleeps here every night, and even if a small part of her is still guarded, she’s here.
Unable to help myself now, I slowly brush my knuckles down her bare arm, taking in how she shivers faintly before stirring. Her lashes flutter briefly, then she makes a soft, half-grumbled, half-breathy sound before fully waking up.
The sight alone is enough to stir a reaction from me.
Sliding an arm around her waist, I gently pull her closer to my chest and soak in just how warm and tangible she is. She’s right here, in my grasp, and completely mine. Now, that thought comes from a place of reverence rather than primal possession.
“Good morning,” I murmur with a faint smile, amused by the way she always struggles to wake up fully.
Sera cracks an eye open to glance at me, then she rubs at them, but doesn’t pull away. “Morning.”
“Never been a morning person?”
“No,” she mumbles, looking up at me now while I trace a slow path down her spine. “Not when I wake up to someone staring at me.”
My lips spread further. “I’m allowed, aren’t I?”
With a faint huff of amusement, she doesn’t deny it. She allows that quiet to settle between us before searching my face for something. “I didn’t realize you were such a sap.”
That pulls an incredulous laugh straight from my chest, and I give her a small, deliberate tug toward me. “I can be soft.”
“Apparently.”
Even if the word sounds sardonic, the softness in her eyes betrays her, along with that reluctant smile of hers.
Leaning down, I press a light kiss to her temple, then her cheek, while sunlight warms the sheets concealing us. Slower now, I press against her lips, unhurried and dripping with affection.
Her hand slides up my chest, hooking lightly against the base of my neck while she kisses me back, reaching into it more than I imagine she wants to admit.
The bond thrums between us, warm and satisfied. It leaves me feeling less on edge now and more level-headed, like I can finally breathe without wondering when everything will fall apart.
She breaks the kiss long enough to murmur against my lips, “Definitely a sap.”
With an amused exhale against her mouth, I cup her cheek and pull her back in deeper this time. My opposite hand drifts along her side and the curve of her hip, eager to feel any inch of her skin that I can. Lately, I can’t get enough.
Every time I think about her standing off against those Wraith Peak wolves and defending the others without hesitation, a new kind of fierce and unyielding pride swells in me.
She didn’t have to protect them, but she did. She chose to, and I don’t take that lightly.
I roll us over gently so I’m half over her, bracing my weight carefully. My lips trail down her jaw and neck, slower than usual, as I savor every second of this.
Sera exhales softly into it, surrendering in the most satisfying way while her fingers thread into my hair and send a shiver through me.
There’s no need to rush, and I’m cherishing that far more than I ever expected to.
When we pull apart just enough to breathe, she presses her forehead against mine briefly, and something about it feels so right that I don’t want to leave the bed.
But when the need for food increases, we eventually get up. While I cook breakfast, she sits on a stool with an unreadable expression, like she’s thinking too much. After a while, she speaks up.
“You don’t have to keep proving anything.”
“Proving?” I question, lifting a brow while I plate the food. “Who said I’m proving anything?”
She goes quiet, like she can’t think of something suitable enough to say, then she gives in and accepts her portion.
While we eat, I mentally organize the day in between light conversation, remembering the various pack tasks that need my attention. But when Sera stands from her seat after, she sways, and while subtle, I catch it.
I rise immediately, reaching out to her.
“I’m fine,” she says automatically, pressing her fingers to her temple. “I’m a little off, that’s all.”
“You said that the other night, too.”
“I’m just tired…and a bit lightheaded.”
Concern moves through me immediately, and I gently support her by the arm. “You pushed yourself too hard at the festival, and you’re likely still catching up.”
She nods slowly, not pulling away as I guide her to the living room. “I don’t usually draw that much energy so quickly.”
“Then we won’t push today,” I tell her, deciding without hesitation.
Sera looks up at me as she sits on the sofa, blinking through her vague disorientation. “You don’t have to cancel things because of me.”
“I want to,” I hum, sitting on the edge of the couch. “We’ll take it easy today, and maybe go back to the water if you’re up for it.”
She hesitates at first, like she isn’t used to anyone rearranging their schedule around her well-being. Then, she manages to relax her shoulders, and she nods.
So that’s exactly what we do.
After lazing around for the morning, we head down to the shore close to the house despite the overcast day. The tide is rough as it crashes against the sand and rock, but the air is fresh and vaguely cool, as if it washes away the lingering grogginess of not doing much.
Sera carries her shoes while we go, letting the shallow waves lap over her feet. Before she can get too far with them, I smoothly relinquish them, earning myself a pointed look. Though she smiles instead of reprimanding me, and we continue until she finds a suitable spot.
I sit next to her in the sand, close without crowding her, and when it feels right, I reach for her hand. As our fingers lace together, she leans lightly against my shoulder, and it sends another wave of satisfaction through me.
We stay like that for a while as we watch the tide move, slowly starting to creep back in again.
“This is easier,” she says quietly, breaking the relative silence. “Being here…just us.”
Something in me softens, understanding very well. Out here, there’s no scrutiny or whispers. There’s no feeling the pressure of the pack or of my dad watching me like I’m making the biggest mistake of my life.
“I’m done bending for them,” I say before I can think twice. “For expectations that weren’t mine to begin with.”
I feel as she shifts enough to glance up at me, and her voice reaches me in a gentle brush. “But you still care about what they think.”
“Of course,” I murmur, glancing down at our connected hands. “It’s my pack and my father, but I care more about this, and knowing you’re all right. I won’t keep sacrificing us to make them comfortable.”
Sera doesn’t say anything for a beat, expression softening just enough for me to see. Then, she asks quietly, “You don’t regret it?”
“Regret what?”
“Bonding with me,” she says, almost like she’s nervous to.
Everything in me stills at once, then I turn to look at her fully, expression entirely serious. “Not even remotely.”
The answer comes so immediately and unequivocally that she looks surprised by it, but schools her expression right after.
I bring her hand up to my mouth, and I just barely press my lips against the back of it while keeping my gaze locked on her. “I regret that you had to fight just to be here, and I regret that I didn’t shut some of it down sooner.”
Sera’s throat moves subtly as she swallows hard, and while the doubt in her gaze doesn’t leave entirely, it morphs into something more bearable. Not needing to say anything, she pulls our hands back down and returns to her position, leaning into me fully now with her head against my chest.
A gentle smile spreads on my lips at the sight, and I wrap an arm around her this time, keeping her close. Resting my chin on her head, I watch the waves and pull in a steadying breath.
I know I should be planning strategies and monitoring the Wraith Peak situation closer, but right here, right now, I don’t feel guilty about pushing it all aside.
With her, the chaos fades, and the constant weight of expectation eases away. Instead, I just feel certain of this, and certain that she is worth every argument and every challenge.
While the pack is still incredibly important to me, so is Sera, and if indulging in this upsets the others, then so be it.
She’s the one I want.