Luca was the last to arrive, as always.

  Since they had started these weekly suppers, not once had he been on time. Not because he didn't care—far from it. It was just that something always managed to hold him back.

  Tonight, it was Brick.

  The old man tended his small plot of crops like they were his own flesh and blood. And like any devoted caretaker, he could talk about them for hours. Literally.

  But listening was important. It always was.

  As Alpha, it was Luca's duty to ensure his pack was provided for, heard, protected—every problem addressed. And tonight, Brick's troubles had been his to bear.

  A swarm of invasive insects had overtaken the old man's crops, draining him just as much as they drained the land. Brick was losing the battle, pouring every last ounce of energy into fighting off the infestation—only to watch his hard work be eaten away before his eyes.

  He hadn't let Luca leave until they found a solution. And they had. Or at least, Luca thought so. Tomorrow, he'd visit the herbologist and see if she could concoct something to drive the insects away.

  None of this excused his lateness, of course. But he liked to think it made the waiting worth it.

  Luca walked fast, trying to make up for lost time. At least Briar had been held back tonight—he didn't know why, didn't care to ask. Frankly, he wouldn't have put it past her to show up anyway. And if she had? Goddess help him—because the sight of her alone would have been enough to set his blood boiling all over again.

  He still could not get over it. She had picked up on Rosie's attraction far too fast and, like a wolf with fresh prey, had sunk her claws into it—shoving Rosie straight into him.

  Did she think he needed help? That he needed to be pushed?

  It had been two days, for Goddess's sake. Let the man breathe.

  Maybe Briar simply didn't understand restraint. Or patience. Had it been her, she'd already be fucking her mate senseless.

  His wolf stirred at the thought, the mere suggestion of claiming what was his drawing a sharp, possessive hunger from deep within. A growl vibrated in his throat, low and unwelcome. No. He wouldn't let it control him.

  But his wolf had no such hesitation.

  The images hit like a tidal wave, slamming into him with brutal force. No gradual unraveling, no teasing temptation—just carnal, fucking need.

  The sharp hitch of Rosie's breath as he pressed her down. Her lips, swollen and parted, voice catching on a moan as his teeth grazed her throat. Mine. The slick heat of her, the way she'd shudder beneath his tongue, his name falling from her lips like a prayer—

  Luca staggered, catching himself against the nearest tree, claws unsheathing before he could stop them.

  Fuck.

  His nostrils flared, pupils blown wide, every muscle in his body drawn so tight he thought he might snap. His own scent thickened the air, the undeniable stench of arousal clinging to his skin. He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms in a desperate attempt to ground himself.

  Not like this.

  His wolf snarled at his resistance, prowling beneath his skin, pushing. It didn't care for patience. For reason. It only knew instinct, and instinct demanded he take.

  Luca forced a breath through gritted teeth. I won't.

  But the bond was relentless. The scent of her, the memory of her, the undeniable truth that she was his—it gnawed at his control like a beast starving for release.

  He was so not surviving this.

  Because he couldn't.

  I'm not planing on seducing anybody.

  Her words still echoed in his mind, unwavering. Maybe her eyes lingered when he tore off his shirt, but her heart wasn't following suit.

  I have a mate.

  That, she did. If only she could feel the bond—the real one. Not that fraud of a tie her mind had conjured up to uphold some fairytale she was so desperate to believe.

  But as Kira's cabin finally came into view, his irritation faded just enough for a slow smile to stretch across his lips. Because at least now, he knew. It wasn't just in his head.

  His little mate did find him to her taste.

  And then he stopped, smile vanishing instantly. The scent hit him like a punch to the gut.

  Sage.

  For half a second, he thought his wolf was playing tricks on him. But no. It was real.

  She was here.

  And that could only mean one thing—she was dining with them. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for what he knew was to come. The day had drained him, every last ounce already spent. He had nothing left—no patience, no energy.

  And Goddess help him, being around Rosie required a lot of it.

  "Luca!"

  He had no time to prepare himself before Kira dragged him through the just-opened door.

  His eyes found her immediately, as they always did. It was impossible not to look for her. His body sought her out on instinct, as if his bones had been trained to react in her presence. And when she wasn't there?

  He found himself wishing she was.

  She still wore that blue dress—the one that exposed her shoulders in a way that made his thoughts drift too easily. The thin straps were laughable, useless things that did nothing to stop his imagination, while the neckline did an excellent job of making sure he didn't imagine too much.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Not that he needed to.

  His mind drifted to the morning, when she had stood before him, dripping wet, the water hugging every inch of her. Her soft breasts, the flatness of her stomach, the long, muscled legs that had surprised him—maybe the only part of her that had been properly trained in strength.

  He could hate Briar's antics all he wanted, but he didn't regret the sight.

  He had touched her stomach, stroked her back, held her against him. There was still so much to discover, and his wolf wanted it now.

  It pushed through him, filling his mind with images—her beneath him, his teeth on her neck, sinking in—

  "Supper is ready, thanks to my helper."

  The vision shattered.

  Beside him, Kira beamed, completely unaware of what she had just interrupted. As if sensing her name, Rosie lifted her head. Her gaze settled on him almost immediately. And for just a moment—barely even a second—

  She held her breath.

  No more, no less. But still, it meant something.

  Luca had learned that Rosie's body language was a very subtle thing to read. A lot went on behind those green eyes of hers, but her exterior? It gave away so little.

  Except when she blushed.

  He nodded at her, casual, controlled— as if he hadn't just been imagining the feel of her shoulder blade beneath his lips.

  Rosie offered a small smile, then quickly looked away.

  Luca swallowed.

  Goddess, acting normal around her took so much of him.

  "She's good with them," Kira mused, following his line of sight with a knowing smile. "Been entertaining the two since they got back from school."

  Only then did Luca register them. His two godsons.

  He had been too caught up in her— in the way she looked, in the way his mind kept betraying him with the memory of her bare skin beneath his hands— that he hadn't even noticed the two young pups clinging to his mate.

  Luke was hugging her leg, his tiny arms wrapped tightly around her, his normally boundless energy stilled by the steady weight of her hand resting atop his head. Rosie was talking to him, her other hand curled gently around Mika, who was nestled against her side, looking up at her with pure adoration.

  The three-year-old, in all his innocent entitlement, had claimed full rights to her hair. Tiny fingers threaded through the dark silk, absently playing with the strands as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

  Luca clenched his jaw.

  You knew things were bad when you start getting jealous of a three-year-old.

  "She'll make a good mother."

  Kira's voice was light, conversational—but Luca still felt the weight of it. He nodded, gaze fixed on his mate, his wolf already daydreaming. A future—one where Rosie was his, where his pups clung to her as these two did.

  His. Not very likely to happen. And yet—

  The feeling lingered. That once he disembodied the bastard who had dared to claim her, once she was truly free—

  She might choose to stay.

  Hope. A dangerous, bitter thing.

  Still, here she was. His mate, surrounded by pups. Luca hadn't expected it. Maybe it was because of how she always seemed on guard, or because she never opened up. She wasn't much of a talker—quiet, watchful, reserved. So he hadn't thought she had a soft spot for children. And yet—look at her now.

  His gaze dropped to her stomach, taking in the strain of holding Mika.

  She didn't show it. No wince, no sharp intake of breath, but he saw it anyway. The faint tension in her shoulders, the subtle shift as she adjusted the boy, settling his small weight more securely against her hip.

  She was still weak. She shouldn't be holding him.

  "Did she rest?" His voice came out sharper than he intended, but the thought of her struggling in silence made something inside him bristle.

  Had he had his way, she would be tucked in bed, resting with a simple meal and no responsibilities beyond healing.

  Beside him, Kira hesitated.

  "Yes."

  His gaze snapped to her. That didn't sound like a 'yes.'

  "Kira," the name rolled off his lips as a warning. Do not lie to me. "What is it?"

  She touched her lips, chewing on the words. He knew that look on her. She was holding something back, minding her words.

  He was tired of people trying to protect him, tired of them shielding him from things they thought would concern him.

  "Not long," she admitted at last. "I don't think she finds much rest in her sleep."

  Luca sighed. That would pose problem. She couldn't heal without proper rest. Couldn't regain her strength like this. The thought of her vulnerability pulled his focus back to her guards. Where were they?

  He cast his senses outward. The others were in the dining room, their familiar presence a steady hum in the back of his mind. But besides those gathered there and the five of them in the living room, he couldn't detect anyone else nearby.

  His brows knit together. "Her guards?"

  "Dismissed as soon as Milton got back home."

  He barely had time to process before Kira clapped her hands together.

  "Enough lingering. Let's—"

  The door swung open, letting in a gust of crisp night air.

  The woman who stepped inside was tall, her silver-streaked hair pinned back into a severe knot. Sharp eyes scanned the room, brimming with the confidence of someone who had long outgrown the need to prove herself.

  Kira turned with a bright smile.

  "Ah—Mom! Perfect. Mika, Luke! Come, Grandma's here to take you for the night."

  But her mother—Helen—wasn't looking at Kira. No, her gaze had frozen—locked onto the rogue holding her grandsons. The change was immediate. Her entire expression tightened, every muscle in her body going rigid, as if the mere sight of Rosie touching her blood was an offence.

  It was subtle, the way Rosie's body reacted, but he saw it. The way she withdrew, ever so slightly, her fingers loosening in Luke's hair. The flicker of hesitation before she lowered Mika gently to the ground, as if already bracing for the moment they would be taken from her.

  Like she knew she didn't belong. Like she had always known.

  Luca's stomach twisted. His fingers flexed at his sides before curling into fists, nails biting into his palm. If he moved, just slightly, he could step between them—cut off Kira's mother's view entirely.

  Helen hadn't even spoken a word, but her face said enough. Disgust. Unease. A silent horror, something vile, something that needed to be corrected immediately. Maybe if she knew Rosie was his mate, she would temper her hatred down. No matter, Rosie was his guest—the Alpha's guest.

  A cold wave of fury slithered up Luca's spine. He would demand respect.

  His wolf bristled, claws pressing against his skin, itching to surface. To correct what was so clearly wrong. His mate had done nothing—nothing but be kind, and yet she was the one being cast aside like something unclean.

  His jaw tightened to resist a growl threatening to pass his lips as the woman took a slow step forward.

  "Come here, boys." Her voice was smooth, carefully controlled. But the way her eyes flicked to Rosie—cold and assessing—spoke volumes.

  Luke didn't move. He pressed closer against Rosie's leg, his little fingers curling around the fabric of her dress. He looked at his grandmother, then back at Rosie. Torn.

  Kira's mother noticed. Her lips pressed together. "Now, Luke." The child hesitated, glancing back and forth. Mika was as unsure, following his big brother with every decision.

  That was when Luca had enough.

  His gaze snapped to Kira's mother, sharp and deliberate, a silent command woven into the look.

  Enough.

  Where the shift should have been immediate, Helen hesitated under his silent warning—undermining his authority.

  That wouldn't do.

  Luca took a single step forward—not aggressive, not challenging, just a deliberate shift in position. A quiet reminder of where she stands. It took only a second for Helen to freeze. Her posture changed—still stiff, but the open hostility dimmed under his silent warning.

  Luca was the Alpha.

  And even if she thought herself above a rogue, she was not above him.

  Slowly, her gaze flicked away from Rosie. A flicker of something passed over her face, frustration or reluctance, but she swallowed it down and forced a tight smile. "Come," she repeated, gentler this time. "We'll have a great time at Grandma's while we let Mom rest a bit."

  This time, the boys obeyed, slipping from Rosie's grasp and shuffling toward his grandmother. Helen took Mika's hand, then Luke's, her fingers curling around their small wrists. But just before she turned toward the door, she hesitated. A flicker of something passed over her face—not quite disgust anymore, not quite caution. Something colder. Final.

  Her gaze met Rosie's, just for a breath. Then, without a word, she was gone.

  Rosie's hand fell back to her side, empty now. The signs were there—the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers curled into themselves like she was resisting the urge to hide them.

  Goddess help him, he hated seeing that look on her face. He had never seen her look so small. Not before him, when she first stood before an Alpha as a rogue. Not even before Briar, when she had toyed with her mercilessly. But this? This had made her shrink. And that, he couldn't accept.

  Rosie shifted, weight tilting just slightly toward the door. A fraction of a step, barely noticeable. The walls were closing in on her. He could see it—the way her body tensed, her shoulders drawing in as if bracing for impact. Preparing to flee.

  To disappear into the background, or worse—

  Back into the wild.

  He clenched his jaw.

  Not letting that happen.