Page 228 of Alpha Mates

He takes it without a word when I hand it to him, chewing it slowly before gulping down the water I hold out for him. I watch to make sure he finishes everything while he stares at the floor blankly, then turn to dump the plate in the sink.

Then, there’s only silence.

Never in my life have I been in a room with Julian and had it be quiet. Even when we hated each other, we had too many jabs to get in to sit in tense silence. But we stew in it now. And after we mated, it’d only been pleasure and open comfort.

This is new—different. I hate it.

Should we try talking? Maybe, but we tried that earlier, and it didn’t end well. Besides, it’s late, I’m tired, always fucking tired these days, and Julian needs the rest.

I glance towards the only bed and freeze when I see Julian curled up there. It’d never stopped me before but now, staring at the space beside him, I hesitate.

Julian and I had never slept apart. Not until I left, and I don’t even know if that counts since I’ve barely slept with my night terrors keeping me company. The only time I got any was when my body succumbed to exhaustion, and even then, it wasn’t rest. Now he’s here, and I want nothing more than to have him in my arms again. But I can’t.

Crossing the room, I stop at the couch where I make my makeshift bed. I turn off the light and lie down in the unwelcoming space.

“You can sleep here,” he whispers, the hope as clear as the fear in his voice, and it breaks something in me. We fought a lot over the months—sometimes for days—but every night we still slept together. Always.

“I’m fine,” I mumble, feeling my body tighten everywhere as the lie scrapes out of me. I dig my nails into my skin to smother the ache in my chest with a different kind of pain.

“Please,” he breathes, so softly I almost miss it—but I can hear his heart hammering. It sounds just like mine.

“Good night, Julian.” I force myself to say. Then I lie still and pretend I don’t hear the quiet sobs that follow.

I blink my eyes open. Even that small movement taking effort with how heavy my exhausted mind is as it slowly wakes.

Sunlight slinks through from above, warming my skin—and I realise that I slept through the night. Which doesn’t make sense ’cause I never do. Not unless—

Skin shifts against mine, and I freeze before I risk glancing down.

Julian’s there, lying against me, head tucked against my neck. His body is tangled with mine, all the way down to where our legs are woven together. A knot of limbs and warmth.

Like a bowstring released, I feel my body relax completely for the first time in weeks. My mind empties and my chest expands with a full breath. I don’t think, I just tighten my hold on him, drawing him closer.

He snores faintly, oblivious to the way I breathe him in. Every soft exhale brushes across my throat, and with each one, his scent flares—familiar, grounding, intoxicating.

Before I know it, I’m nuzzling into him, coating him in my own scent like instinct demands, and my soul swoons. I shiver slightly, nuzzling him with more persistence until he wakes.

Yawning, Julian’s eyes struggle to open and I watch his long lashes flutter. He shifts, stretching himself out before curling back against me. His eyes drift slowly, and it takes him a moment of glancing around before he finally looks at me.

First, there’s relief—so much of it that I feel it like my own. Then, there’s panic—panic that I’ll leave, and panic that I’ll be angry. They blend together, making him shift nervously while his grip on me tightens.

“I’m sorry,” he manages after a moment, though he makes no sign of moving. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

“It’s fine,” I mumble as I sit up and carefully ease out of his hold.

He lets me go, not fighting me, but I feel his eyes on me until the bathroom door blocks me from view. I stand there a moment, hiding in the shadows of the dark room. The door’s cracked open, letting in a strip of light, and I can’t seem to catch my breath.

Need, hurt, desire, pain, and longing. They all war inside me. But it’s the longing that wins because every time I taste it, it reminds me of why I crave it in the first place.

I brush my teeth and wash my face, going through the motions before I brace myself to face him again. I’m in a better state of mind, I think, but that goes out the window the moment I see Julian cooking.

“You shouldn’t be standing,” I say as I rush towards him.

“I’m fine,” he replies with a barely-there shrug, cracking eggs into a bowl.

I hover, waiting as if he might drop at any second, but Julian stands tall and continues his prep as if I’m not even here. I stare at him until the worry fades and something warmer takes its place instead. Something that reminds me of how wonderful it always was to watch Julian cook.

He always said he hated cooking, but he never fooled me. He did it all the time, with extra care and a small smile on his lips. Over the months, I’d become addicted to watching him in his secret element. I loved watching him like this. Still do.