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"I, Alpha Jacob Mathews, reject Kallisto Marshall as my mate and Luna of the moonlight pack and is hereby banned to never return again" The growl could be heard from kilometers, the authority is his voice...
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Guilt gnaws relentlessly at my conscience, gnashing its teeth with every moment that passes.
Not too long ago, he returned to the room bearing a tray adorned with an assortment of delectable sandwiches and a refreshing glass of orange juice. Despite his own cup of coffee, his eyes can't help but linger on my juice, their gaze reminiscent of a covetous longing. I shoot him a narrowed-eyed glance, feeling a subtle pull in my mind, an unspoken dance of familiarity between us. He chuckles, confirming my suspicion that these silent exchanges have become a regular occurrence, woven into the tapestry of our connection.
His eyes, bloodshot and weary, hint at recent tears shed in the solitude of his grief. I can't fault him entirely; if I were in his shoes, I too would weep for a mate who couldn't recall the threads that bind us together, chosen or not.
But he remains steadfast in his resolve not to disclose our shared history, emphasizing that memories will either resurface or new ones will be forged in their place. Only one fragment escapes his lips-his regal stature as the king and the adjournment of my impending coronation, originally scheduled to transpire within a week's time. I find solace in his decision, sparing me from the overwhelming burden of stepping into a role I am presently ill-equipped to comprehend.
Abruptly, he rises from his seat, his eyes fixed intently on the glass of juice nestled in my grasp. With calculated deliberation, he reaches out and gently plucks it from my hand, his fingers brushing against mine in a fleeting touch. I watch with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension as he brings the glass to his lips, even while still cradling his coffee. A stifled gag escapes me, met by the booming resonance of his laughter, which reverberates throughout the room. "I fail to comprehend the source of your amusement; such behavior is far from healthy!" I retort with a playful tone.
"So I've heard," he hums nonchalantly, paying little heed to my protest. I shake my head, bemused by his eccentricity, and the corners of my lips curl upwards. "How is your head? Shayla mentioned to me that you might experience bouts of headaches and dizziness," he inquires with genuine concern, his voice laced with a tenderness that warms my heart. I shrug lightly, the absence of such afflictions evident in the present moment.
He extends his hand towards my forehead, a gesture of comfort and reassurance. As his palm makes contact with my skin, a jolt of electricity courses through my body, igniting a cascade of pleasurable sensations. Overwhelmed by the sheer bliss, I instinctively close my eyes, savoring the delicate dance of tranquility that unfolds within. And when my eyelids flutter open once more, he is leaning in, his face in close proximity to mine.A nervous giggle escapes my lips, a symphony of mirth intertwining with a touch of uncertainty. In response, he bestows upon me one of those breathtaking smiles that have swiftly etched their way into the deepest recesses of my heart. As his lips tenderly brush against my forehead, I emit a soft hum, surrendering to the ecstasy that envelops me. "Such a beautiful baby," he murmurs, his words imbued with affection and adoration. I shake my head playfully, keenly aware of how far from beautiful I must appear at this very moment. With my head bandaged, a section of my hair matted, and a portion of my scalp shaved, I feel a pang of vulnerability tugging at my spirit. The yearning for a rejuvenating shower permeates my thoughts, and I whisper my longing into the air. Instantly, he nods in understanding, a smile playing upon his lips, echoing the trust I hold in his discernment. His heightened senses, honed by the wolf within him, guide him unerringly.Yet, the realization that my own wolf remains elusive casts a melancholic veil upon my spirit. I set aside the half-eaten sandwich and the empty glass, symbols of my waning appetite.
Observing my actions, he takes the tray from my grasp, his expression etched with deep concern. "Is there anything you need? Shall I summon Shayla?" he offers, his finger poised hesitantly above the buttons. I shake my head, silently declining his kind offer."No, it's just... I can't feel my wolf," I admit in a hushed whisper, my gaze drifting downward, accompanied by a surge of shame for my perceived failure in safeguarding my other half. Fear gnaws at me, the trepidation that vocalizing my concerns will only serve to solidify the grim reality before me.
In response, his eyes soften, and a tender smile graces his lips, offering solace to my troubled heart. "I feel her," he assures me, his voice brimming with sincerity. In that instant, my gaze shoots up, a flicker of hope igniting within me like a solitary flame in the dark. "She's weakened, undeniably so, but she's still there, recuperating. She will return to you; you only need patience," he consoles me with unwavering conviction. I nod eagerly, a spark of renewed optimism igniting within me, even though the slight movement incites a twinge of pain, causing me to wince. "Take it easy, my beautiful," he advises, his concern palpable. "Let's not risk exacerbating your condition by inviting a concussion," he imparts, eliciting a genuine smile from me. "Would you like assistance in reaching the shower?" he inquires with earnestness, awaiting my response.
Contemplating his question for a brief moment, I recognize the indelible mark we share, the intricate intertwining of our destinies etched upon our bodies. Despite the peculiar nature of our mutual markings, I can feel the profound bond between us, a testament to the consummation of our mating. Interpreting my silence as hesitance, he prepares to speak once more when I slowly nod, more careful this time to avoid any undue strain.A radiant smile illuminates his countenance as he effortlessly lifts me into his arms, holding me with unwavering strength and tenderness. Embarking upon the journey toward the bathroom, he cradles me in a bridal embrace, ensuring my comfort. I can't help but surmise that he has orchestrated the arrangement of the finest quarters within the hospital, perhaps even securing a place within the esteemed confines of the royal wing, all in pursuit of providing an environment where I can find solace and ease.
He sets about preparing the bath, the air suffused with the alluring aroma of the luxurious bath products he carefully selects. Inhaling deeply, I savor the inviting scents, my senses longing for the soothing embrace of the tub. As the water begins to cascade into the tub, he proceeds to remove the bandage gently encircling my head. "Do you even know what you're doing?" I inquire, a hint of uncertainty lacing my words. His laughter dances through the air, his explanation revealing that Shyla and Harry had imparted the necessary knowledge while I lay slumbering, and he himself had applied the bandage currently enveloping my head. Nodding slowly, I allow myself to surrender once more, placing my trust in his capable hands.
With utmost care, he proceeds to divest me of the hospital gown, his eyes never once betraying any trace of desire. At that moment, a flicker of doubt brushes against my thoughts, questioning whether he even harbors such carnal intentions towards me. Swiftly, I dismiss the notion, averting my gaze and noting, with a mixture of embarrassment and intrigue, the unmistakable presence of his arousal. Blushing, I quickly shift my attention elsewhere, hoping my reaction goes unnoticed.
He gently guides me into the awaiting tub, and as my body immerses in the warm water, an immediate sense of relaxation envelops me. Sighing contentedly, I surrender to the tranquility of the moment as he takes charge, bathing me with tenderness and devotion.We remain in that serene state for a good twenty minutes, the soothing caress of the water soothing both body and soul. Then, with a gentle command, he instructs me to rise, leading me to the shower where he diligently rinses away the residual bath salts and soapy suds from my body and hair. A faint blush creeps across my cheeks as his touch grazes my most intimate areas, igniting a tingling sensation that courses through my body. As he completes the task, he retrieves a plush, pink towel, meticulously warmed for my comfort. Gratefully, I wrap myself in its velvety embrace, allowing him to assist me in the drying process. Perched on the countertop, I idly toy with the hem of the towel, my gaze drifting upward to meet his eyes-eyes that have undergone a mesmerizing transformation, their color shifting like the ebb and flow of an enchanting tide.
The golden hue of his eyes envelops me, mesmerizing and captivating. In their depths, I sense a flicker of something more-an essence intertwined with the primal nature of his wolf. My breath catches in my throat, not out of fear, but rather the potent anticipation of what may transpire, for the absence of my own wolf leaves me vulnerable, yearning for connection.
"Do you feel any pain?" he inquires softly, his concern palpable. I shake my head, reassuring him that physical discomfort eludes me. A surge of tenderness courses through him, compelling him to draw closer, his forehead gently resting against mine. A sigh escapes my lips, mirroring the deep sense of solace that his proximity brings. In this intimate moment, he whispers, almost as a plea, "Mine?" His question, a vulnerable inquiry, reverberates through the air, leaving no room for doubt.
The words hang delicately between us, weighted with a profound significance. My heart swells, a flood of emotions cascading within me. With an intensity that transcends mere words, I affirm his unspoken plea, my voice soft yet resolute. "Yours."
