Page 48 of Fated to the Alpha Warrior (The Wolf’s Forbidden Mate #1)

Aurora

A week into our stay at Pack Opal, I finally start to feel more like myself again.

The bond in my chest has returned to its usual ache, no longer the strange muted sensation from the failed ritual.

But my muscles still protest every movement, the magical backlash making even simple tasks difficult, stiffness and pain taking over.

Every morning, I push myself through training forms, ignoring the trembling in my arms and legs.

The healers say the lingering pain and muscle weakness is normal after what I attempted, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear.

Especially not when Kieran watches me with concern in those ice blue eyes, clearly wanting to help but restraining himself from hovering. I hate feeling weak in front of him.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” he says when he finds me attempting to stretch after my morning practice.

I’ve been working through the forms Dana taught me, trying to hold them longer despite the pain.

I can’t just sit around and do nothing. My arms shake as I try to hold a pose. “Let me help?”

I eye him warily, emotions warring in my chest. We’ve settled into a strange uneasy peace these past days, his gentle attention and genuine efforts to change slowly chipping away at my defenses.

The way he remembers how I take my coffee, how he asks thoughtful questions about my life, how he never pushes…

it’s different from the Kieran I knew before. But touch is still… complicated.

Especially since I can still feel his hands on my skin from that night we spent together, can still taste him on my tongue. Can feel the broken, brittle pieces of me after he rejected me again.

“Just a massage,” he says, reading my hesitation. His voice is gentle, lacking any of the arrogance I remember from before. “To help with the muscle pain. Nothing more. I’ve been learning proper techniques from the healers.”

I shouldn’t say yes. But my back is screaming from overexertion, and his hands look strong and capable. More than that, something in me craves his touch, even though I know I shouldn’t.

“Okay,” I whisper. “Just a massage.”

He guides me to lie face-down on my bed, his movements careful and deliberate, his hands respectful. The mattress dips as he settles beside me. When his hands first touch my shoulders, I tense—then melt as his thumbs find a particularly painful knot.

“Tell me if I press too hard,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate in the quiet room. “Or if you want me to stop.”

But his touch is perfect, firm enough to work out the tension without causing more pain, as if he senses what I feel as he touches me.

His hands are warm and sure as they move across my shoulders and down my spine.

Each stroke sends tingles through my body, equal parts therapeutic and electrifying.

I can’t hold back a small moan as he works out a stubborn knot, the pain rising then fading completely, replaced with a warm pleasure.

“You learned this from the healers?” I ask, trying to distract myself from how good it feels. From how much I want more. “When did you have time?”

“I’ve been getting up early to study with them in the mornings,” he admits, a hint of shyness in his voice that I’ve never heard before.

“I wanted to be able to help with your recovery. The healers recommended it, and… I wanted to be useful. I feel helpless just watching you suffer, knowing I’m responsible.

This way, at least I can do something, even if it’s insignificant in comparison to what I see you do for yourself. ”

The confession catches me off guard. It’s such a thoughtful gesture, so different from the Kieran who rejected me. That Kieran would never have humbled himself to learn something just to help me, and he definitely wouldn’t have admitted to feeling useless or incompetent in any way.

“Tell me something true,” I say impulsively as his hands work a knot in my lower back. His touch is making me brave, loosening my tongue along with my muscles. “You keep asking me questions about myself. I want to know about you too.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his hands never stopping their soothing movements.

“I used to watch you, after the rejection. Not… not in a creepy way, I know how that sounds. I just needed to know you were okay. I saw you at Marjorie’s sometimes, or training with Dana.

You looked so strong, so fierce. I wanted to approach you so many times, but I told myself it was better to stay away, because you were doing okay. ”

“I wasn’t okay.” The words come out raw and honest. “I was broken inside every minute of every hour of every day.”

“I know that now. And I think I knew it then.” His voice breaks. “I saw how much I hurt you. But I was too much of a coward to fix it. Too afraid of my father, of being weak… of admitting I was wrong.”

“Why now?” I need to know. “What changed?”

His hands still on my back, warm and steady.

“I did. Or maybe I just finally became who I always should have been. My father… he taught me that strength meant never showing weakness. Never admitting you were wrong. But real strength is having the courage to face your mistakes. To try to make things right. And the thought of losing you for good taught me that, Aurora. Nothing has ever scared me more than thinking I might never get to hold you in my arms again.”

The raw honesty in his voice makes my chest ache. “Keep going,” I whisper, and we both know I don’t just mean the massage.

His hands resume their movements, working down my spine with careful attention, thumbs pressing and working each knot out along the way.

“I was so afraid of being weak that I became exactly what I feared. I became weak, shameful, arrogant and cruel. But you… you showed me what real strength looks like on this journey together. How brave you are, how fierce, but still vulnerable and honest and kind. The way you never let anyone make you feel less than what you are. I love that about you.”

Heat pools in my belly at his words and touch. When his hands brush my sides, skating dangerously close to the sides of my breasts, I can’t hold back a small sound of want.

“Aurora?” His voice is rough. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking that I shouldn’t want this,” I admit. “Shouldn’t want you. But I do.”

His hands still again, and slowly, giving me time to stop him, he leans down to press a kiss between my shoulder blades. “I want you too. Always have, even when I was too stupid to admit it.”

Heart racing, I roll over to face him. His eyes are dark with desire, but he doesn’t move, letting me set the pace. My skin feels electric where he touches me, alive with possibility.

“Kiss me?”

He groans and complies, his mouth capturing mine in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly turns heated as he licks his way inside my mouth.

His hands cup my face as he deepens the kiss, thumbs stroking my cheeks, and I arch into him, craving more.

He tastes like coffee and mint, and something uniquely him that makes my head spin.

“Wait,” he pulls back, breathing hard. The arousal on his face is clear, and evident under his loose workout pants.

“We should stop. If we don’t, I’m going to forget my promise to take this slow and fuck you right here against this door.

But when I have you again, Aurora, I want to savor every fucking second. Worship you the way you deserve.”

“I don’t want to stop,” I tell him, running my hands down his chest, admiring his strength. Then, feeling bold, I add, “I want to see this time. Really see you.”

His pupils dilate further. “What do you mean?”

I glance at the full-length mirror on the closet door, then back at him. “Show me what it looks like when you pleasure me. I want to watch you worship me like you say you want to.”

A growl rumbles through his chest, deep and primal. “Fuck. Are you sure?”

In answer, I stand and move to the mirror. His eyes burn into me as I shed my clothes, letting them fall piece by piece until I’m naked before him, feeling vulnerable and anxious despite the fact that I know I want this. The bond pulses between us, heavy with desire and tinged with nerves.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, coming up behind me.

His clothes are rough against my bare skin as his hands slide down my sides, gentle and warm.

He kisses my neck, and I watch in the mirror as his lips trail across my skin, his movements slow and deliberate, giving me the chance to pull away.

“Look at yourself, Aurora. See how perfect you are, how gorgeous and strong.”

I watch our reflection as he kisses down my body, dropping to his knees in front of me.

His hands grip my hips, strong and steady, as he urges my legs apart.

The sight of him on his knees for me, this powerful alpha-to-be showing such submission, makes heat pool between my thighs, my core wet and aching with want.

“Keep your eyes open,” he commands softly, his breath hot against my inner thigh, lips ghosting across my skin. “I want you to see what I see when I look at you. I want you to watch while I show you exactly how precious you are to me, how good it feels to pleasure you.”

Then he opens his mouth. The first touch of his tongue makes me gasp.

In the mirror, I watch his dark head between my thighs, his broad shoulders flexing as he pleasures me.

His hands grip my hips, holding me steady as he tastes me.

The sight combined with sensation is overwhelming, scandalous and sexy.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against me between long, slow licks of my folds, the flat of his tongue sparking pleasure through me. “Let me make you feel good, Spitfire. Let me show you how much I worship you.” His tongue circles my clit as he speaks. “You taste like heaven. Better than I remembered.”

His tongue works me expertly, finding all the spots that make me moan and tremble.

One hand slides up to cup my breast while the other holds my hips steady.

I thread my fingers through his hair, watching my own face flush with pleasure, leaning my weight into him to support my legs as they tremble.

My skin glows in the morning light streaming through the windows, and my eyes are bright with desire.

“Look how gorgeous you are,” he says, pulling back to admire me, kissing my abdomen gently. “How perfect. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Then his mouth is on me again, more demanding this time, stroking and flicking and thrusting.

I look wanton and wild in the mirror—head thrown back, lips parted, skin flushed pink.

My knees buckle and he grabs my thighs, taking my weight, humming with satisfaction.

Kieran looks up at me as I ride his face, like I’m something precious, something to be treasured.

His hands are reverent on my skin as they trace my curves.

“Kieran,” I gasp as heat builds inside me. “I’m close.”

“Let me see it,” he growls against me, his breath hot, the space between our bodies making me whimper and writhe. “Let me watch you come apart for me. You’re so beautiful like this, so perfect. My mate. My Aurora.”

His words combined with the sight of him pleasuring me push me closer to the edge.

My legs tremble as he increases his pace, alternating between long strokes of his tongue and sucking gently on my clit.

In the mirror, I watch my breasts heave with each gasping breath, my skin flushed and glistening.

The sight of him on his knees for me nearly brings me to my knees.

“That’s it, Spitfire,” he murmurs against me. “Let go for me. Show me how good I make you feel.” His fingers dig into my hips, possessive and steadying. “You’re mine. All mine.”

The bond pulses between us, amplifying every sensation.

I can feel his desire, his need to pleasure me, his satisfaction at every moan he draws from my lips.

His cock is fully erect inside his sweatpants as he works me with his mouth.

His tongue moves faster, more insistent, and I cry out as the pressure builds, pressing down onto his open mouth and tightening my fingers in his hair.

“Kieran!” My voice breaks on his name as pleasure crashes through me. My body arches, and I watch myself come undone in the mirror—head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream, thighs trembling. He holds me steady through it all, continuing to pleasure me until I’m shaking with aftershocks.

Just as I’m starting to come down, just as he’s licking me through the last bits of my orgasm, and I’m wondering if I’m ready for more, urgent howls pierce the air. Kieran jerks back, both of us freezing as we process the sound.

Pack bonds flare with panic and fear. More howls join the first—emergency signals being passed from pack to pack. The sound sends chills down my spine, breaking through the haze of pleasure and replacing it with urgent fear.

“The fae,” Kieran says grimly, rising to his feet. His eyes are alert now, although his mouth still shines with evidence of what he was doing, making me flush with pleasure. “They’re attacking Pack Jade.”

Reality crashes back. We dress quickly, the intimate moment shattered. But as Kieran reaches for his phone to contact the pack, his other hand finds mine, fingers twining together.

“We need to go home,” he says, squeezing my hand. “They’ll need us both.”

I pull my hand away, stepping back. The words ‘home’ and ‘Pack Jade’ send ice through my veins, replacing the warmth of pleasure with cold dread. Memories flash through my mind - the whispers, the stares, the rejection. Kieran might be different now, but the pack hasn’t changed.

“Aurora?” He reaches for me again, but I move further away.

“I can’t.” The words come out barely above a whisper. “I can’t go back there.”

His face falls, confusion and hurt replacing the tender expression from moments ago. But before he can argue, I scoop up some clothes and flee into the bathroom, leaving him calling after me.

I lean against the closed door, heart racing. The pack needs us—needs me. But can I really return to the place that broke me? To the people who celebrated when their future alpha rejected me?

Even if Kieran has changed, some wounds run too deep to heal.