Page 109 of Chased By My Grumpy Alpha
I glance at Astra, and she is holding Luna in her arms now, looking down at her.
“Come on,” I say hoarsely.
As she follows me, I feel angry at myself. I am the crown prince of this kingdom, yet I can’t even figure out how to placate my hurting mate. I can’t get to the bottom of something as simple as a woman’s heart. What is the point of all my education and experience when I can’t fix what’s wrong between us?
When we reach our rooms, I wonder if I made the wrong choice. I’d thought that maybe some privacy was what she needed. Maybe I’m hovering over her too much. Perhaps—
I open her door and make sure the place is empty before I let her enter. She walks into the middle of the room, then turns around and looks at me. For the first time in a week, I see a flicker of unease in her eyes, but she doesn’t speak.
I want to shake her, demand what’s wrong, beg her to tell me what I did and how I can fix it. But I feel myself pausing, on uneven footing for the first time ever.
I step back from the doorway, letting her have the space I thought she wanted. But as I close the door between us, a cold sensation settles in my chest.
My wolf whines miserably, already missing her scent, her warmth. The bond between us stretches taut, protesting the physical distance even though she’s only fifteen feet away.
I walk to my own door and fumble with the key, my hands unsteady. The lock clicks open, and I push inside to find an empty room that feels like a tomb. Nothing but a bed, a chair, and four walls that seem to press in on me with their silence.
Without Astra here, this place is nothing but emptiness.
I sit heavily on the edge of the bed and drop my head into my hands. What the hell is wrong with me? A week ago, I was perfectly fine sleeping alone. Preferred it, even. Now, the thought of spending one night without her curled against my side makes me feel as if I’m being pulled apart.
My wolf paces restlessly, clawing at the inside of my ribs. Where is she? Why isn’t she here? Go get her.
“She needs some space,” I tell the animal inside me, but the words feel like lies.
She needs us. We need her. This is wrong.
Everything about this feels wrong. The silence where her breathing should be. The cold where her warmth should press against my skin. The void where her scent should surround me like a second atmosphere.
I run my hands through my hair, trying to make sense of what has happened. When did everything change? It was after we slept together—that much is obvious. But what did I do wrong?
A horrifying thought strikes me like slap in the face.
Did she not want me?
My stomach clenches with sudden nausea. The memory of that morning plays back in brutal detail—the way I marked herskin with my mouth and hands, claimed every inch of her as if she belonged to me. The desperate hunger that consumed us both, the way she responded to my touch like she was starving for it.
But what if she was just...complying? What if she thought she had to? What if I forced myself on her, and she was too afraid to say no?
The possibility makes me physically sick. I’ve always been careful about consent, always made sure my partners wanted exactly what I was giving them. But with Astra, the mate bond drove me to distraction. Maybe I misread her signals. Maybe I took what I wanted without considering what she needed.
No. That can’t be right. She has been as insatiable as I am, greedy for my touch, pulling me closer when I try to move away. Just this morning, she was pressed against me like she couldn’t get close enough, responding to my kisses with a hunger that matched my own.
So, why does she disappear into herself the moment we’re not in bed together? Why does she look at me like I’m a stranger whenever we’re fully dressed and standing upright?
I get to my feet abruptly and stride over to the window that overlooks the street below. A few people move through the evening shadows, but my attention lands on a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost.
Seth.
My closest friend pushes off from the post when he sees me in the window, his expression grim even from this distance. The last time I saw him was when he brought me Andrew’s broken body, but that feels like a lifetime ago.
I’m downstairs and out the door before he can approach the building, my wolf suddenly alert to potential threats. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.” Seth’s voice is flat, serious. None of his usual, easy humor. “Word has gotten back to the Council that you’re neglecting your duties.”
I scoff. “Neglecting my duties? I’ve only been gone a few weeks.”
“Over a month,” he corrects me. “Without a word to your father. Over a month of missed meetings, abandoned negotiations, ignored correspondence.” Seth’s expression darkens. “They’re pressuring the King to strip you of your title and put your cousin Jeddiah in your place.”
