Mated but not Tamed

Chapter 29 - Search History

Luther POV

It's late evening—hours after the call confirming Magnolia's Luna ceremony. The house is quieter now, the adrenaline of the day long gone, replaced by a softer tension. The kind that hums beneath the skin.

Magnolia had been quiet since the call—not withdrawn, just... thoughtful. Zoning out mid-conversation, fingers toying with the sleeve of her shirt, eyes a thousand miles away. Not sad, not scared—but something was definitely brewing behind her sweet blue and brown eyes.

I noticed it all. I always did.

I didn't push, just watched with a soft, simmering curiosity. Every time her gaze flicked to me, her cheeks flushed. Her scent, normally so gentle and warm, carried a new, spiced edge to it—arousal tangled with uncertainty.

When she left the room earlier, asking to "have a minute," I let her go. Gave her space. But now the clock had crept past ten, and I was still seated on the wide leather couch in the den, sipping something dark from a glass, shirt sleeves rolled up, laptop open on the table in front of me.

I had been trying to catch up on paperwork, mission statements, order forms, etc., but all of that took a backburn as I stared at the lockscreen.

It was Magnolia, in the cute grey jumper and jeans set Daniel had picked out for her. It fit her loosely, comfortable. And she had dandelions in her hair, placed there by said bond brother. Her smile so bright it rivals the sun shining down on her.

I think I've been staring for hours, cause my eyes start to dry out. I can't help but resist blinking or even looking away for second.

I have to physically snap my self out of it, when the overwhelming load of work comes crashing into reality. A simple message pinging off my computer does the job just fine.

I wasn't looking for anything in particular when I opened the browser. Especially not "Jennie" a hot single in my area to pop up.

"The Fuck?"

I run my software security search, and find a stream of questionable sites and flagged searches pop up. One after the other I go through them.

'Did a horny teenage boy hack into my computer?' I think to myself. Only Sin is oh so happy to chime in.

'You have a mate! Pervert!' he growls at me, not liking the idea of other women.

'I didn't search this shit Sin, Jeeze', its then my stomach drops, and I see the first few searches my "hacker" imputed.

"10 Ways to Feel Sexy When You've Never Felt Desired"
"Initiating Intimacy With Your Alpha Mate(s)"
"Are you a whore for loving more then one man?"
"How Do I Know If I'm Ready?"

My heart stills. The air settles around me like a thick fog. My jaw flexed, heart kicking once—hard.

Magnolia.

My Magnolia. Loves... us.

My Magnolia thinks she's a whore!

She was researching this. For me. For us.

I didn't read much—couldn't. The protective, reverent part of me wanted to shut the whole thing down, carry her to bed, and worship her until she never doubted how wanted she was again. But I didn't move. I respected her more than that.

I hadn't meant to see it.

The browser history had been left uncleared— not even hidden— I got up from my chair and started pacing the room.

"How to know if you're ready for your first time."
"Building confidence in the bedroom as a shy mate."
"Ways to initiate intimacy when you're nervous."
"Does it hurt? Sex."

The searches running rampant through my thoughts. Even Sinder is getting restless at the idea of Magnolia finally accepting us in that way. But we both agree that her insecurity, and self doubt have to come first.

I move back to the computer.

My fingers hovered over the trackpad. For a long, heavy breath, I just stare.

She'd been searching this... last night. On my laptop. Before she'd gone quiet and distracted and adorably awkward every time our eyes met.

My chest tightened.

Not because I'd pressured her—never that—but because she was thinking about it. About mating. About touching. Kissing. More.

And gods help me, just the thought of her sitting in this very chair, cheeks warm, fingers trembling as she typed out those questions—my mate trying so hard to be brave—wrecked me.

But I closed the laptop. Carefully. No sound, no trace. She hadn't meant for me to see it, and I wouldn't make her feel exposed.

The last thing Magnolia needed was to feel embarrassed for exploring something so sacred, something so... hers. She'd been denied so much. Taken from, judged, pushed. I'd never let her feel that way again. Not even by accident.

Even if my wolf was pacing just beneath my skin, jaw clenched, torn between pride and hunger and reverence.

I pushed up from the desk and ran a hand down my face, trying to shake it off. Not the heat. Not the ache. Just the timing. She deserved more than me ambushing her with what I knew.

So I poured another drink—just one. Something strong, slow burning.

And I went to the living room.

The fire was low, more glow than flame now, casting amber shadows across the stone and wood. I grabbed the book from the side table—some political memoir I hadn't touched in months—and sat down hard on the couch.

Distraction. Control. That's what I needed.

Because if she came to me tonight—nervous, curious, wearing those soft silk pajamas I'd caught a glimpse of the other day—I didn't want to be the Alpha who devoured her. I wanted to be the mate who earned her.

So I sat.

Book open. Eyes glazed. Pretending to read.

Waiting for the sound of bare feet on the floor.
For her scent to grow stronger.
For the moment she chose me—not out of duty or pressure, but because she wanted me, too.

And when that moment came...
I'd be ready to worship every inch of her.

And when she finally entered the room—barefoot, hesitant, wrapped in a silk camisole and matching shorts that shimmered like moonlight, I already knew. Her scent all but gave her away.