When the Alpha Return
Elena didn't know how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? It all blurred together under the heat consuming her body.
She was curled on the bed, her fingers tangled in the sheets, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps. Sweat beaded across her skin. Her wolf scratched and clawed inside her chest, restless and panicked.
Where is he?
Where is he?
The room felt too small. Too hot. Too suffocating.
Her heart slammed against her ribs, the bond burning so fiercely she could barely breathe. She could feel him — far but moving closer. Fast.
Every part of her reached for him without meaning to.
And then
The front door slammed downstairs.
Elena jerked upright, her pulse exploding.
Heavy footsteps shook the hallway. Fast. Hard. Determined.
Like someone barely holding himself together.
Her fingers trembled as she clutched the blanket to her chest.
The footsteps stopped right outside her door.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then the doorknob turned.
The Alpha at the Door
Lorenzo stood in the doorway, blood on his arms, dirt on his skin, eyes blazing bright gold. He looked wild. Unstable. Dangerous.
But the moment his gaze landed on her..
Everything in him softened.
"Elena," he breathed, like her name hurt to say.
Her throat closed. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Instead, her eyes filled with tears not just from the heat, but because he was here. Alive. Safe. And looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered.
He started forward, then stopped himself, fingers curling into his palms like he was physically restraining his body from rushing to her.
His voice was raw.
"I heard you."
Elena's breath hitched. She didn't even mean to, but she reached for him , just a small, trembling motion of her hand.
That was all it took.
Lorenzo crossed the room in seconds.
He knelt at her bedside, his movements slow, careful, terrified of hurting her. His hands hovered over her thighs, the mattress, her shoulders , like he wanted to touch her but wasn't sure he had the right.
"Elena… look at me."
She lifted her eyes to his.
He inhaled sharply, as if the sight of her nearly brought him to his knees.
"You're burning," he whispered. "Your heat's hitting you too fast. Too hard."
Her fingers reached for his wrist, clinging. She didn't know if it was instinct or desperation , maybe both , but the moment her skin touched his, he trembled.
"Elena, don't," he said, though he didn't pull away. "I'm barely holding on."
She swallowed, forcing out a rasped whisper:
"Hurts…"
Lorenzo shut his eyes, jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek.
"I know," he said. "I feel it too."
His hands finally touched her , one on her cheek, the other cupping the back of her neck, his thumb brushing her jaw with heartbreaking gentleness.
But the gentleness didn't match the fire raging in his eyes.
He wanted her.
Desperately.
Painfully.
Completely.
"Tell me what you need," he murmured, voice shaking with restraint.
She parted her lips, trying to speak, trying to form words .
but her voice cracked, barely a whisper.
"Y-you."
Lorenzo's entire body went rigid.
His eyes flashed gold. His breath hitched. His wolf snarled, a sound only she could feel through the bond.
But he didn't move forward.
He moved back.
"Elena… no." His voice shook. "Not when you're like this. Not when you're hurting. I won't take advantage of your pain."
A choked sound escaped her , half frustration, half relief, half something deeper.
Her fingers tightened around his wrist, pleading without words.
"Please…"
Lorenzo looked like he was fighting a war inside his chest.
His breathing was uneven. His hands shook. His claws threatened to break through his skin.
"Elena," he said softly, painfully, "I will fix this. I will relieve this pain. But I am not claiming you when you're not fully yourself."
His thumb brushed her cheek again.
"You deserve clarity. Choice. Not instinct."
She blinked, tears slipping down her cheeks.
Her voice cracked into barely audible fragments.
"Then… don't leave."
That was the moment he broke.
The moment he gave in , not to desire, but to her.
He climbed onto the bed, sitting behind her, drawing her gently into his lap like she was made of glass. His arm wrapped around her waist, steady and warm, grounding her shaking body against his chest.
"I'm here," he whispered into her neck. "I'm not going anywhere."
Her breath steadied just enough for her body to stop trembling
The heat was still there. The bond still burned.
But she wasn't alone anymore.
And for the first time since this started ,
the fire didn't feel like it was killing her.
It felt like something she could survive.
Because he was holding her through it.