Page 19 of Alpha’s Twins (Alpha Kings Island #3)

It looks like a goddamn bomb went off out here.

I survey the garden, the absolute chaos of it, and my wolf growls low in my chest. Serena says everything went fine with Emily and Marian, but the state of this place tells a very different story.

The flowers are either half-exploded or wilting; the whole yard is a tangled mess of blooms, vines, and giant roots that have pulled up the path. I have no idea what’s going on.

She’s barely spoken to me the last two days, spending hours out here sitting amongst the chaos, but not even attempting to use her magic.

I can feel her pulling away, the distance between us growing like the thick creeping ivy that’s all but smothered the garage.

It was supposed to be getting better. She was supposed to be settling in.

But just as I thought we were starting to build something, everything seems to be unraveling.

I shove my hands into my pockets, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest. It’s not just her magic that’s gone haywire.

It’s everything about her. The way she smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

The way she still touches me, but her gestures are now so tentative, almost reluctant, or afraid, despite all the passion we’ve shared.

It’s like she’s already thinking of letting go.

I don’t know how to fix it, and it’s driving me fucking insane.

My brothers managed to make their mates feel accepted, despite the difficult situations they both found themselves in initially. Where am I going wrong? I never had a problem keeping women happy before. They always seemed happy enough in my bed.

I kick at a tangle of roots, trying to shove the frustration away.

Trying to shove my growing feeling of inadequacy away.

Serena’s upstairs, locked in her room—she’s even avoiding my bed now—and I don’t know if I should go to her or give her the space she seems to want.

The space that might just push her further away.

I bend down to try to pull a snarled vine from the gravel, and the sharp scent of roses fills the air, reminding me of her, of the way she smells when she’s wrapped around me.

My wolf is wild, restless, and I can barely keep it together.

I grip the vine, yanking it free, and the release is both satisfying and not enough.

This can’t go on.

I have to do something.

If only to get away from all this chaos that is only reflecting my own mind.

The fires continue along the mountain border, destructive and deliberate.

They seem to spring up out of nowhere, only to cause maximum damage before extinguishing by themselves just as we arrive, and then spring up somewhere else.

My patrols often spend hours zigzagging the border, seeing nothing, and getting nowhere.

I know I’m missing something. He’s taunting me. I can practically hear his laughter in the smoke and the ash, feel his presence in the air. He knows how desperate I am to find him, knows I’m running out of time.

I stare up at the house as I yank another vine, this one more stubborn, and I feel the tension in my shoulders, my gut, my chest, refusing to release.

I can’t focus on Malik if I’m constantly worried about her, but I can’t focus on her if I don’t know when he’s going to strike.

It’s like I’m caught in a trap, and every time I think I’m getting free, it snaps tighter.

The pressure feels too much, like a weight that’s slowly crushing me, but I know I can’t let anyone see how much this is affecting me.

I need to be the alpha my pack needs. The alpha Serena needs.

Glancing around the garden, I sigh. The destruction out here is going to take more than pulling a few vines to sort out, and right now, it feels like too much. I need to get out of here, we both do.

“Serena,” I shout, my voice sharp as I walk inside. “You ready to go?”

I hear movements upstairs, and a moment later, she’s on the landing, looking down at me with surprise.

“Go where?” she asks, her voice tentative.

“Out,” I say, making my way up to her. “Get your things. I’ll be in the truck.”

She hesitates, and I can see the questions in her eyes, the uncertainty, but I turn and head out before she can say anything more. A few moments later, she’s climbing into the truck wordlessly.

“Where are we going?” she asks, but I just start the engine, the roar of it filling the silence.

She sighs, and I catch the faintest hint of a smile on her lips, like she’s amused despite herself. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

We drive through the town, the roads familiar and winding, and I stop at the bakery, pulling up to the curb. “Wait here,” I say, and I’m out of the truck before she can protest.

Inside, the smell of fresh bread and sugar is overwhelming, and I grab a range of pastries, sandwiches, and drinks. The thought of where I intend to go is already lessening some of the tension that has been threatening to consume me all morning.

I pay quickly and head back, the bag warm in my hands. Serena’s waiting, her eyes curious as I hand her a coffee and toss the bag on the seat between us.

We drive out of town, the scenery changing as the road dips and curves. The mountains give way to a series of lakes in the valley, the water glinting under the sun, and I glance at her, gauging her reaction. She’s looking out the window, her expression softening, and I feel a flicker of hope.

“I haven’t seen this part of the island,” she says, almost to herself.

“It’s different,” I reply, keeping my voice casual.

We turn onto a narrow dirt road, barely visible and framed by tall pines. The truck bumps along, and I can tell she’s curious, a quiet anticipation building. We pull up to a small clearing, and I cut the engine, the sudden quiet wrapping around us like a blanket.

“Here?” she asks, her eyes wide as she takes in the secluded spot.

“Yeah,” I say, getting out and grabbing the bag of food. “Come on.”

The path winds down toward the water, hidden from view, and her footsteps are cautious behind me.

As we reach the shore, the lake opens up before us.

Utterly still and so perfect, it looks like glass, reflecting the blue of the sky and the green of the mountains.

A small crescent beach curves around the shore, smooth white pebbles and sand, and the trees crowd close, like they’re trying to keep the whole place a secret.

“Wow,” Serena breathes, her eyes wide with amazement.

I feel something inside me loosen, the tension unwinding just a little. “Thought you’d like it,” I say, and I can’t keep the smile from my face.

“It’s beautiful,” she says. She walks on ahead of me, and I follow, watching as she makes her way toward the water. The sunlight catches her hair, and she looks back at me, a lightness in her face that I haven’t seen in days. “How did you find this place?”

I settle down on the sand, opening the bag and spreading the food out between us. “My brothers and I used to come here when we were kids,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “When we didn’t want to be found.”

“By whom?” Her voice is soft, careful.

“Ralph, our dad.” I look out at the water, the memory of Ralph as sharp as ever. “He could be a real piece of work.”

She sits beside me. “Just to put it lightly,” I add, and there’s a harshness in my voice I didn’t mean to let slip.

She watches me, waiting, and I know she’s thinking about how to ask, how to make me talk. The openness in her face, the way she looks at me without judgment, makes it easier to continue.

“He was a bastard, Serena. Didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself.

Tough for a pack, but even tougher for a family.

” I pause, the memories a tangle of anger and bitterness.

“He was especially hard on my brothers; I was more of a general disappointment. Nothing I ever did was good enough. Callum and Tristen got the bulk of his attention, but when he did notice me, it wasn’t exactly pleasant. ”

Her eyes are wide, the concern in them raw and palpable. “I’m sorry, Aiden,” she says, and her voice is filled with sincerity. “I didn’t know.”

“Not the sort of thing you advertise,” I say, trying to shrug it off, but she’s still watching me, and I know I can’t. “We’d come out here to escape. Make sure he couldn’t find us, couldn’t pit us against each other.” I look back at the lake, the memories coming thick and fast.

“It’s peaceful here,” she says, and I hear the question in her voice, the unspoken why didn’t you tell me this before .

“Yeah,” I reply, my voice quieter. “The only place we felt safe sometimes as pups.”

I feel her hand on mine, tentative at first, then firmer, like she’s trying to anchor me to this moment rather than the memories. “I can’t imagine,” she says. “That must’ve been awful.”

I look at her, the openness in her eyes, and I feel a rush of gratitude. “It was. But we had each other.”

She nods, her expression thoughtful. “It’s nice that you’re still close with your brothers.”

“Yeah,” I say, scoffing lightly. “It’s not always easy, we butt heads. But we’re family, and we’ve made the packs work better than I think Ralph ever intended.” I pause, feeling the weight of the past lift slightly. “I’m not sure he ever really saw me as part of the island’s future.”

She looks down, her voice barely a whisper. “I know how that feels.”

I watch her, seeing the sadness in her eyes. “Nolan’s pack?” I ask, knowing there’s more to her story than I’ve let myself consider.

She nods, staring at the water. “They never accepted me. I mean, we all know why,” she says quietly.

“I was different, short and curvy. No wolf. No real use. They didn’t know what to do with me.

” Her voice is bitter, and it cuts through me.

“I tried to fit in, tried to make it work, but I was always the outsider. Even after my store took off and…”

She trails off for a moment, gathering her thoughts, and I want to pull her close, to tell her that she’s none of those things, but I let her speak; the words start tumbling out like they’ve been trapped for too long.

“They’d laugh behind my back,” she continues, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Or worse, to my face. And when they weren’t laughing, they were ignoring me. Like I wasn’t even there.”

I feel a growl rising in my chest, a primal anger at the thought of her being treated that way, but I hold it back, knowing she needs to get this out.

“The only reason Nolan didn’t reject me completely was because of a promise he made to my family, and then the money coming into town from my store, and all the shipments.

Even then, I was still treated like a burden more than anything else.

I never belonged there. They were quick enough to get rid of me when they saw the opportunity. ”

“You can belong here,” I say, my voice fierce with certainty. “You belong with this pack. I don’t care if you don’t have a wolf, Serena. I don’t care about any of that.”

Her gaze flicks to mine, and for a moment, time stands still, neither of us saying anything, but the look that passes between us seems filled with so much that should be said, but neither of us does.

Her eyes are wide, her lips slightly parted, and I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know how to make either of us feel better, so I do the only thing I can think of. I kiss her.

Her mouth is soft and warm, and she leans into me, her hands finding my shoulders, pulling me closer. My wolf howls with satisfaction, and I feel the familiar heat rise, the need to have her, to make her mine. Her body melts against me, and I feel the last of her hesitation slip away.

I push her down onto the soft sand, my body urgent and demanding. Her hands are in my hair, and I can feel the wild beat of her heart against my chest. The lake is a mirror of the sky, and the trees whisper around us, but all I can see, all I can feel, is her.

“Aiden,” she breathes, spurring me on.

I kiss her deeper, my hands sliding under her shirt, feeling the heat of her skin. Her breath catches, and I feel her arch against me, wanting, needing. I groan, my own need consuming me.

“Wait,” she says, and there’s a sudden shift in her voice. “Aiden, wait.”

I freeze, and she pushes gently against my shoulders, her eyes wide and uncertain. “Someone might see us,” she says, but the words feel hollow, like an excuse.

I pull back, breathing hard, trying to understand the change. “There’s no one for miles,” I tell her, feeling the sting of confusion. “It’s just us.”

She sits up, smoothing her clothes and avoiding my gaze. “I just…I don’t know,” she says, the distance already growing, the invisible wall back between us.

“Serena,” I say, reaching for her, but she stands, the barriers as real as if they were made of stone.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and I can hear the tremor in her voice, like she’s already pulling away.

I watch her carefully, knowing there’s more she isn’t saying, but we’ve made progress today, and I don’t want to push her. “It’s fine,” I say, helping her to her feet. “Let’s walk around the lake, and I’ll show you the view from the other side.”

She nods, visibly relieved that I haven’t pushed her. I’m not a complete bastard. The rest of the afternoon is a dance between enjoying each other’s company and avoiding the truth that sits awkwardly between us, the lingering tension of everything that’s not being said.