Page 2 of Alpha Unchained
I held his gaze, even as my body broke apart for him, pleasure coming in shuddering waves. Even then, the wolf inside me clawed for the surface, desperate to answer his call, to run wild for him, to howl her surrender. His mouth was everywhere—hot, claiming, dragging his tongue along my collarbone, scraping his teeth over the mark he’d bitten at my throat. His breath was searing and heavy, lips finding every sensitive inch, each touchdriving me higher, making me tremble for him, open and hungry and helpless beneath the weight of him.
'Open your eyes, Elena. Look at me when I take you.'
I had looked in his eyes and thought I saw forever, but I didn’t agree to be marked or claimed. I didn’t want it then, and I sure as hell don’t want it now. I didn’t understand what it meant back then, didn’t know he’d walk away like it cost him nothing. But I remember. I remember watching him, showing more of myself than I ever meant to—every fear, every raw edge I thought I’d buried. And he left anyway.
He knew what he was doing. He knew what it meant. And now he’s gone.
Why? The word hisses in my mind, sharp and bitter. Because he thinks he’s protecting me? Because he thinks leaving is love? Or is he just running from himself, from the fire he lit in my blood and the bond he can’t break?
I close my eyes and tip my head back against the cabinet, trying to breathe. My pulse hammers in my ears. My wolf is restless, pacing inside me, clawing at the inside of my chest. She wants to run, to find him, to drag him back and make him finish what he started.
But I don’t move... I can’t.
I sit in the cold, holding the note and the stone, and I let the ache settle in. I let myself feel it, sharp and ugly and true.
He marked me. He claimed me. And then he left.
I stand, wrapping the sheet tighter around me. I catch my reflection in the microwave’s shiny black door—wild hair, bruised lips, eyes too bright… and a bite mark on my throat. I can see where he sank his fangs into me. I touch it, and the pain spikes—then settles into a low thrum. It doesn’t feel like defeat. It feels like a warning. A promise. The start of something I never asked for but can’t turn away from.
A wolf. A mate. All of it crashing down at once.
I move through the apartment over my bookstore, gathering the scattered pieces of last night—my bra on the lamp and the scent of his skin everywhere. I inhale, greedy, desperate, letting the memory of him fill my lungs one last time.
I let myself remember the way his breath caught when he slid inside me, the way his body curved over mine—sheltering and claiming all at once, like he belonged there. I remember how I felt—open, vulnerable, wanted. Not just wanted. Chosen. If only for a single night.
That was the lie I let myself believe. That he was choosing me, choosing us.
I press my palm to my belly. I swear I can feel the flutter of life within me, but how can that be? Not yet rounded but heavy with the weight of what I know is growing there. His child. Our child. The future he says he’s protecting, even as he leaves us behind.
The anger comes back, bright and clean this time. Not at him—no, not just at him. At a world that keeps asking me to choose between love and survival. At the pack that would take what it wants and leave the rest to rot. At the town that whispers and judges but never really sees.
I tuck the note into my jewelry box, sliding the stone in beside it. I get dressed—jeans, a sweater, boots. The armor of ordinary things. I wash my face, braid my hair, and cover the bite with a scarf. I hide the evidence. But I don’t hide from the truth.
He’s gone.
He may come back, or he may not. But either way, he left a mark that won’t heal.
I glance around my place—at the books piled high, the old records on the floor, the empty coffee mug on the table. The life I built to keep myself safe. I built the walls brick by stubborn brick to keep everyone out.
He shattered them in a single night—every defense, every careful boundary, gone.
But if he thinks that means I’ll wait for him, or beg, or break? He’s wrong.
I open the door. The morning air is chilly, sharp enough to bite. I lock it behind me, feeling the shift in my bones—the wolf restless but quiet, waiting. I am not the same girl who fell for him five years ago. I am not the same woman who let him in last night.
I’m something else now. Something wild. Something that refuses to be left behind.
He marked me, but absence will not claim me.
If Luke McKinley wants to fight for us, he knows where to find me.
But I will never be the woman who waits by the window, watching the road, praying for headlights.... the woman he thought he left behind.
That part of me—waiting, hoping, stuck in the past—is done. I don’t wait for rescue. Not from him. Not from anyone.
I tuck my chin, face the sunrise, and face the beginning of a new day. My hand drifts to the wound at my neck, feeling the throb of my pulse beneath my skin—a reminder of what he took, and what I’ll never let him take again.
Not my hope... Not my future...
