Page 23 of The Careless Alpha

I nodded.

“I love you, Annalise.”

Tears pricked my eyes, blurring his beautiful face. “I love you too, Marshall,” I choked out, my voice thick with my unshed tears.

That was all he needed. He surged forward, and the feeling of him filling me was a cataclysm. It was pain and pleasure, a sense of rightness so profound it was like the world snapping into alignment. I cried out and arched into him.

Our rhythm was primal, instinctive. It was the dance of mates, of two halves becoming one. The scent of him, of his arousal, filled the air, and Sapphire howled in triumph. This was more than a physical act; it was a sealing of the bond, a weaving of our souls on a plane beyond the physical. With every thrust, he branded me as his, and with every breath, I claimed him as mine.

The pleasure built, a roaring tide pulling me under, higher and higher until I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. I could only feel. Marshall, Marshall, Marshall. His name was a chant in my soul. I felt his control snap, heard his guttural cry mix with my own, and the world shattered into a million points of brilliant, blinding light. We fell over the edge together, bound in the fall, our bodies slick and trembling as the aftershocks rolled through us.

After, as we lay tangled in the sheets, his arm a heavy, possessive weight across my waist, his breathing was deep and even beside my ear, the faint scent of whiskey a sweet memory on his breath, everything felt right. Saphire was curled up and purring contentedly in my soul, nestled against Ranger. Marshall was a little drunk, and I was in my flowered pajamas, but it didn't matter. It hadn't been perfect in a storybook sense. It had been real, and raw, and utterly, breathtakingly ours.

It was the most beautiful night of my life.

"I love you," I whispered into the darkness.

His arms tightened around me where we lay tangled together in my narrow bed. "My beautiful Annalise," he murmured sleepily. "So good to me. So perfect."

I pressed my face against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart and feeling more complete than I ever had in my life. His breathing gradually evened out as the alcohol and exhaustion caught up with him, and soon he was sleeping peacefully beside me.

I lay awake for a long time, memorizing the feel of his arms around me, the sound of his breathing, the way he murmured my name in his sleep. This was what I'd been waiting for all these years. This connection, this intimacy, this sense of finally being seen and wanted for who I was.

This changes everything,Sapphire said contentedly in my mind.Now he knows. Now he understands what we can be together.

"Everything's going to be different now," I whispered back, hope blooming in my chest like a flower after winter.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face, dreaming of a future where Marshall looked at me with love instead of obligation, where we built a life based on choice rather than duty.

I woke to cold sheets and an empty bed.

Sunlight streamed through my windows, and I could hear the normal sounds of the pack house beginning their day. For a moment, I was disoriented, wondering if the night before had been a dream. But the rumpled sheets and the lingering scent of pine and leather told me it had been real.

Marshall was gone.

I sat up slowly, looking around my room for any sign of him. His clothes from the night before were gone, replaced by the memories of gentle hands and whispered endearments. But his scent was all over my sheets. Maybe he'd just gone back to his room to shower and change. Maybe he'd be waiting for me downstairs with that new look in his eyes, the one that said he finally saw me as more than an obligation.

He will be different now,Sapphire said hopefully.Last night changed him, too.

I dressed carefully, choosing a soft blue sweater that brought out my eyes and jeans that fit well. For the first time in months, I took extra time with my hair and even applied a little makeup. I wanted to look pretty for Marshall when I saw him again.

The dining room was busy when I made it downstairs, pack members eating breakfast and discussing plans for the day. Luna Etta was at the head of the table, directing the kitchen staff with her usual efficiency.

And there, at his usual seat, was Marshall.

With Scarlett sitting on his lap.

The sight hit me like a physical blow. Scarlett was feeding him pieces of bacon while he laughed at something she whispered in his ear. His hands rested casually on her waist, completely comfortable with her intimate position. He looked relaxed, satisfied, like a man who'd had an excellent night.

Just not with me.

"Good morning, Annalise," Luna Etta called out, noticing my entrance. "How are you feeling, dear? You looked a bit pale last night."

I somehow managed to find my voice. "Much better, thank you."

Marshall looked up at the sound of my name, his amber eyes meeting mine across the room. For a moment, I expected to see recognition there, some acknowledgment of what we'd shared. Instead, I saw polite disinterest, the same expression he'd worn for years.

"Morning, Annalise," he said casually, as if nothing had changed. As if he hadn't taken my virginity just hours ago.