Word Count: 3314

~Aesira

I dash from the kitchen and down the hall.

Edwin immediately launches himself after me, oddly agile for a male as drunk as he is. I swiftly manoeuvre through the dark, my heart pounding in my ears.

There is only one place in this manor where I can truly be safe from Edwin and his drunken rage.

I turn a sharp corner, my leg aching in protest, but I continue on. At one point, I feel Edwin's hand graze my shirt, nearly grabbing a fistful of the material but I forge onward.

If he gets his hands on me I think he might kill me...

I tumble up the stairs, two at a time, hearing Edwin's breathing further behind me. He's a big male, and utterly intoxicated. His stamina is waning.

The carpet floors of Everin's quarters soak up the sounds of my hurried footsteps as I rush down the hall toward his room. The space is cloaked in darkness, but strangely, I feel as though I know my way.

I glance behind me, but through the dim I see nothing. Still, I know Edwin has dropped away, giving up on his pursuit since realising the direction I've fled in.

As enraged as he is, he's not foolish enough to stand off against his Alpha.

I almost slam into Everin's door as I come to a stop. Turning the handle, I shove into his room, my breathing harsh and uneven, my lungs burning.

It takes a few blinks for my eyes to adjust, only to see Tarnia sitting in Everin's main living space, her hands half raised to sign at him. He stands before her, head jerking up toward me at the sound of my sudden entry.

Tarnia...in his room...at night.

"Oh...this was a mistake," I breathe, backing up a step.

"Aesira." Everin starts after me, but I'm already departing down the hall. "Wait!"

This was a mistake. I came here seeking refuge from Edwin because I know Everin can protect me, but also because I know he would want to protect me. After all his admissions, I stupidly thought...

I shake my head, swallowing past the tightness in my throat.

"I shouldn't have come here," I mutter, striding down the hall as sconces alight in Everin's presence.

"It's not what you think," he insists, grabbing for my arm but I shake him off. "Stop, let me explain."

I whirl around, hands balled into fists. I never entertained the thought that Everin was continuing to see Tarnia because I naively thought he had feelings for me. Real, tangible feelings. Even if I didn't want him to feel that way, I became accustomed to the idea that he might...

"What is to explain? You told me you were going to continue sleeping with her despite being married to me. It's not like I should be surprised," I wipe my hair from my face, hoping it isn't burning as brightly as it feels.

His gaze searches my face, his dark brows furrowed.

"Tarnia...I'm no longer sleeping with her. I haven't in months," he explains. There's a frantic, almost anguished lilt to his voice. "Let me escort her to her transport and then I'll explain everything to you."

I cross my arms, looking down the hall to his open door.

I'm not sure what is worse — facing Everin after this, or being attacked by Edwin in my sleep.

"Fine," I grumble despite myself. I doubt I would be able to sleep tonight if I didn't hear an explanation.

At least he isn't naked, and I didn't walk in on Tarnia in a compromising position. In fact, Everin's clothing and hair isn't rumpled, and he isn't glistening with sweat.

He looks...normal.

"Why did you come to my rooms?" He asks softly, strands of dark hair brushing against his brows as he looks down at me.

I tear my attention away from him, feeling small under his scrutiny.

"Get rid of her, please."

He sighs, still studying me. He doesn't appear to want to walk away.

"Very well," he relents.

He returns to his rooms, closing the door for a moment. I stand with my back against the hallway wall, cursing myself.

Should I slip away now? Tell him I was sleeping walking, or going into psychosis? Surely that appears more believable than me voluntarily entering his rooms.

A moment later, he appears at the door with Tarnia. He leads her past me, where I remain plastered against the wall.

Her soft blue eyes graze my face as she walks by, but she doesn't flinch away from me. After what my father did to her, that is a surprise.

When the pair are gone, I slip into Everin's rooms. I check his bed, finding the sheets undisturbed, before I begin pacing back and forth in front of his fireplace.

Not long later, Everin returns, closing the door behind him. He searches the room, his shoulders relaxing a touch when he sees me.

"I didn't expect you to still be here," he admits.

"Is she gone?"

"She is." He reaches into his pocket. "She only came to return this to me."

I venture closer. "What is it?"

"A ring. It was mothers." He rolls it onto his palm, splaying it out for me to see. I pick closer, warily, like prey venturing into a trap laid by its predator.

The ring is gold with a ruby nestled in the material. It's beautiful, and despite its subtly, fits the version of Everin's mother I built up in my head when seeing her cottage.

My heart sinks into my stomach. "You were going to marry her?"

"No, of course not." He shakes his head, staring at the ring intently. "She complimented the ring once, when it was sitting on my dresser. I've allowed her to wear it since."

"Why return it now?" I ask.

His eyes lift to mine, heavy and dark.

"She didn't feel as though it were right to keep it, considering I'm no longer intimate with her," he murmurs. "I'll purchase her another gift, instead. As her friend."

I take a step back, unable to breath under the pressure of our proximity.

He really isn't seeing her anymore. The realisation lifts a weight of my chest, only to add another.

Why not? Why remain so loyal to me?

"How do you communicate with her?" I ask, tearing my thoughts from the dark and uncertain place they have plunged into.

"I sign to her." He walks to the fireplace mantle, gently setting down the ring. "After the...incident, I helped her learn. My mothers was proficient, and demanded that as an Alpha, I should be too."

"I would like to learn."

He frowns. "Why?"

"I want to disparage Tarnia in as many languages as possible." I smile saccharinely.

He sighs with his entire body. "Aesira."

I don't actually want that. While I still blame Tarnia for the deaths of hundreds of innocent soldiers and the capture of Lincoln, I have mellowed to her, somewhat.

I have enough hate and frustration in me as it is. She doesn't need to centre it.

"If you weren't doing anything with her tonight, why was she here so late?" I question.

Everin is silent for a moment, the firelight licking a golden path up the strong lines of his face.

"For her safety," he admits.

"I wouldn't have hurt her," I insist. Getting so violently attacked myself has put a bad taste in my mouth when thinking about doing that to another. Especially to someone who has already paid for her crimes.

"She doesn't feel comfortable around you." He shrugs. "She won't tell me why, but I figure it is because you're your fathers daughter."

And I have his eyes. "I suppose that's fair enough. It must be guilt, for betraying my father's pack, and everyone in it."

Everin looks away, his jaw tight.

It bothers him, that I do not like Tarnia. Can he not see why? I understand why Everin would order their deaths, why he would capture Lincoln, but Tarnia...she betrayed us. She was one of us. She prayed over those exact soldiers several times, and yet in a single night, she had forsaken them.

They trusted her. On their behalf, I will ensure a member of my home pack will never make such a mistake again.

"Why are you here, Aesira? Why come to my room so late?" Everin exasperates.

I cross my arms. "Maybe I want sex."

He pauses. His inspecting gaze slides over me, the weight of it almost sensual.

"That's not it," he murmurs.

I sigh raggedly. Must he be so good at reading me? I would happily crawl into bed with him to avoid having to conversate about his unbearable second in command.

"If you must know, it's because I don't feel safe in my rooms tonight," I tell him. "Oddly enough, I feel safer here, with you."

His expression immediately darkens. "Why don't you feel safe?"

I grimace. "Oh no one reason..."

"Has someone threatened you?" He demands, taking a step toward me.

"Everyone hates me here, Everin. Most people, anyway," I remind him. "Even important people."

His eyes narrow, and I can see him running through all the options about who I could be referring to in his head. Even though his second is rarely around, he must have sensed the ire the male has toward me.

"Has Edwin said something?"

"I can handle him," I say quickly. I don't need Everin fighting this battle in its entirety. "Tonight, though, he is very drunk and very vengeful, so I figured it's best not to take the risk."

Everin brushes past me. "I'll speak to him."

I grab his forearm, stopping him. If he goes to Edwin now, the male would have won. He would know he intimidated me enough to go crying for help from the Alpha. That is a level of shame I cannot handle.

"He won't be receptive right now," I insist, ignoring the searing heat of Everin's stare on where my hand touches his arm. "Please don't make a fuss. I'm serious about me handling him."

"My trusted commander shouldn't be threatening my wife," he growls.

"Don't kick him out. It's just a misunderstanding." He'll take all the satisfaction from me otherwise. "Can you blame him for hating me?"

His body is coiled with tension, an ice cold fury dancing in his eyes. He really is ready to oust his second in command for simply threatening me.

It assures me that I cannot tell him about the night I was injured and that Edwin came to the room. I can envision Everin's rage if he knew what Edwin wanted to do to me that night.

He cants his head. "If you don't feel safe—"

"If you don't want me in your room, I can go."

Now, he's the one reaching for me, resting a sturdy hand on my shoulder. "No. Stay."

It's decided then.

"I'll sleep on your couch." I turn toward it, exhausted and more than ready to sleep the moment my eyes close. This has been a frustrating and confounding night.

"No, I will," Everin insists.

"I'm in no mood to argue about this." I shoot him a desperate look. "Let me. Please."

He blows out a breath, before he nods reluctantly. We've done enough arguing for one night, although that isn't unusual for us.

"I'll get you some blankets."

I sit on the couch while he gathers bedding from a storage cupboard down the hall. When he returns, we arrange all the blankets and the pillow before I lay down amongst them.

"So, am I allowed to spend a night in the village, like you promised?" I ask, looking up at where he stands over me.

"I don't know..." He mutters uncertainly.

"Remember, I gave you information about the up and coming attack by my father. You owe me," I say pointedly.

Everin has been preparing a defence all week, and has promised to seek out to hostages the moment father's attack is attempted. I feel no guilt about telling him, although it's clear he's felt guilt about asking.

The amount of flowers sent to my room this week has been ridiculous. I could classify the space as a garden as this point.

He sighs. "You take two guards."

"One."

"No. Two."

My eyes narrow. "I don't want to feel suffocated. That's the entire point."

He dips his head back, muttering a curse.

"Fine. One."

"Great. Thanks." I burrow myself deeper under the blankets, smiling up at him. "I'm ready to sleep now."

He gazes down at me quietly, and for a long moment, it's clear he wants to say something else to me.

"Very well. Good night," he breathes.

"Night."

His footsteps are near silent as he retreats into his bedroom. I watch the fire, listening to the gentle sounds of him preparing for bed. It's a startlingly intimate feeling.

Eventually, I hear him settle into bed, silence descending upon both rooms. One peek over the back of the lounge and I can see he hasn't closed the door between us.

I smile a little, ducking my head back onto the pillow.

Soon enough, my eyes drift close. I feel safe, comforted by the weight of the blankets and the warmth of the fire. Everin is a mere few feet away.

Edwin can't touch me here.

When I first came here, all those months ago, I wouldn't have been able to fathom being able to feel this way in Everin's presence. I thought he would always terrify me, and while sometimes he does, I feel genuine comfort in his nearness.

It does not bode well for my future plans.

The sound of soft footsteps make my eyes open just in time to see Everin rounding the couch. I watch him with widened eyes as he yanks all the blankets off me in one sweeping motion.

"Everin—"

"Shh," he soothes, bending over to pick me up.

The movement is so effortless I'm stunned into silence. He cradles me close, one arm holding my back, the other beneath my the backs of my knees as he carries me into his bedroom.

Still, I can't form words as he rests me onto his bed, pulling the covers up over my body. They are cool and soft, and smell like him.

He enters the bed next to me, turning me on my side before he tugs me against him.

I exhale slowly, relaxing into the feel of him. His arm has wound around me, tight and secure. I feel him everywhere, and it is so wonderfully consoling I could cry.

"Comfortable?" He murmurs near my ear.

"Very."

He makes a low, masculine sound of contentedness from the base of his throat. "Good girl."

I can feel my cheeks flush. This is so wrong — I shouldn't have let him do this, bring me into his bed like I am more than his lover.

I like it far too much.

"I haven't felt this in a long time," I admit quietly. "Having someone hold me like this."

I never felt affection like this growing up. Lincoln was my first experience with it, but even his embraces never felt like this. I feel safe, comforted. Despite everything that continues to transpire between Everin and I, I feel that this is how he truly wants me.

My eyes flutter closed as he brushes his fingers gently through my hair. The touch is featherlight, sending pleasant tingle down my spine.

"I love your hair. I love these curls." His voice is deep and smooth, caressing my ear while his fingers trace the wild bends in the strands.

"Yeah?"

"I love your skin. It's always so soft." His fingers move down to my neck, the tips barely grazing my skin.

Even though his touch is maddeningly gentle, it's not to tease me. He is admiring me, appreciating me. He's taking his time learning the sounds of my breathing and the way it hitches with each pass of fingers against my skin.

"Still want my mark?" His fingertips press into my thundering pulse.

I lean into him. "Yes. I want it."

"If you were my mate, I would mark your flesh in an instant. Make you mine, completely," he vows.

"We might be mates. It is possible." The words seem to tumble from my mouth without much thought behind them.

His arms tighten around me. "You better hope we aren't."

I turn my head a little. "Why not?"

"If you're my mate, I'm never letting you go." He kisses below my ear, sealing the promise into my skin.

This is dangerous territory we are venturing into. It is a conversation I cannot bear to have with him, for I am afraid of what it would entice out of me.

"We should sleep," I force myself to say.

"We should."

His arms don't move from around my body, telling me that he intends for us to sleep like this all night.

The problem is, I don't think I can sleep feeling him pressed against so much of me. The feeling of his muscle, broad and taut, the heat of him, the feeling of his breath on my neck...I can't quiet my mind.

It's unbearable. Painful.

I twist in his arms, reaching for his face in the dim. He meets me halfway, hand delving into my hair as our mouth meet.

He groans. Relief, an unburdening.

He kisses me fiercely, pressing me back into the bed. He shifts on top of me, the weight of his body forcing a desperate whimper from my throat.

His mouth is hot against mine, his tongue sweeping through my own with enough pressure to make it feel as though he is coveting me, claiming me. No one could tear me from him — not even the strongest person in the world.

My arms wrap around him, my hands kneading the muscle of his back, his shoulders. It earns a groan from deep in his chest, the masculine sound making my toes curl.

"You are mine, Aesira," he growls against my lips. "All mine."

I nod desperately, because in this moment, there is no one else, nothing else. There is nothing but the feral way he kisses me and the way my body responds in kind.

This can never end, and yet in an instant, it does.

Everin tears himself from my grasp with a pained groan. He kneels over me, chest heaving, golden eyes wild.

"If we don't stop now, I'm going to end up fucking you in this bed." He pants. "And I won't be gentle about it."

Clarity presses through my desire addled mind. What am I doing?

"Okay...yeah. We should stop," I breathe, brushing my fingers over my swollen lips.

Thank the goddess Everin has more restraint than me. I wouldn't have stopped that. Not until we had our ways with each other.

He rolls off me, laying back down beside me.

We look at each other. He is the first to crack a smile, and then me, because we both are aware of how ridiculous this is. We want each other, and yet to have each other would be to admit so much more than we are ready to.

"Sleep, wife," he commands deeply.

I roll onto my side, and he appears behind me once again, pulling me into him.

"Good night, Everin," I whisper, and this time, I am able to find sleep.

🧡••🧡

If you want to read more, you can read 10-15 chapters ahead on Inkitt and 5 chapters ahead on Radish! Search my profile and find the work under stories!

If you want to check out more of my work, ready The Last Alpha out now on Wattpad!

Thank you all for supporting me! (:

~Midika 💜🐈‍⬛