Page 9 of Alpha's Claim

The sight made her stomach twist. Bruises ghosted along her ribs and thighs, pale smudges that stood out starkly against her fair skin. She pressed her fingers to her side, following the faint outlines, relieved to find the tenderness fading—but the emotional wound behind those bruises lingered, pulling at her mind.

I’m alive,she reminded herself.I made it through. Whatever happened, I survived.

The sun streaming in from behind the soft sheers at the windows caught her attention, and she turned toward the light. It was warm and gentle, filling the room with a peaceful glow. The shadows of tree branches swayed lazily on the curtains, hinting at the breeze outside.

Morning.

She exhaled, feeling some of the tension bleed from her body. It must be early—maybe just after dawn. The world outside this room seemed calm and quiet, as if the storm she remembered from her arrival had never happened. Briar sat for a moment longer, grounding herself in the moment. This place—wherever she was—felt safe, at least for now.

She stretched, testing her muscles, and found she was stronger than she had expected. The stiffness began to ease as she stood carefully, her bare feet touching the cool wood floor. Her body felt…normal, more or less, though the faint ache in her head still lingered, like a dull echo of fear she couldn’t quite shake.

Briar spotted a thick robe folded neatly over the footboard of her bed and slipped it on, drawing the soft fabric around her. It smelled faintly of lavender and something clean, a scentthat reminded her of soap and sun-dried laundry. With the robe wrapped snugly around her, she made her way to the ensuite bathroom, curiosity mingling with the need to wash away the remnants of the last few days.

The bathroom was spacious and luxurious in a rustic way, with a large, freestanding tub near a wide window and a walk-in rain shower tucked in the corner. Marble countertops glistened under the soft morning light, and neatly folded towels sat on a wooden shelf near the sink. It was the kind of space that invited relaxation, as if it had been designed to wash away more than just dirt.

Briar stood for a moment, letting the peaceful surroundings seep into her, before closing and locking the door and turning on the shower. The water sputtered briefly, then cascaded from the large rain showerhead with a soothing rush.

She hesitated, touching the edge of the robe where it met her throat, and stared into the mirror above the sink. The pale bruises on her neck made her stomach churn. Her hand traced the spot, and for a moment, her breath hitched. She had no memory of how those bruises had formed, and that unsettled her more than anything. What had she run from? And, more importantly—who?

Her heart gave a small, frightened kick, but she shoved the feeling down. Not now. She could deal with that later. Right now, she needed to feel human again, and human meant clean and refreshed.

Briar dropped the robe onto a bench near the shower and stepped beneath the warm stream. The water hit her skin like a blessing, washing away the grime from her hair, her arms, her legs. The tension she hadn’t realized she was holding melted with every passing second, replaced by a strange sense of renewal.

Grief and fear swirled down the drain with the dirt and sweat, leaving her feeling lighter. She closed her eyes, letting the water cascade over her face, and for the first time in what felt like days—maybe weeks—she allowed herself to breathe.

She reached for the shampoo, massaging the lather into her hair, scrubbing away the remnants of the storm, the mud, and the fear that clung stubbornly to her skin and scalp. The simple act of washing felt like reclaiming herself, piece by piece, as if the water could carry away not just dirt, but the strain of the unknown that had followed her into this strange place.

The warmth of the shower eased the tightness in her muscles, and she tilted her head back, letting the spray cascade down her spine. For a brief, blissful moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and there was only the sound of water, the warmth on her skin, and the promise of a new beginning—however fragile.

When the water finally began to cool, Briar turned off the shower and stepped out, wrapping herself in one of the soft towels. She stood in front of the mirror, wiping the fog from the glass with her palm, and studied her reflection again. The bruises were still there, but they didn’t seem as ominous now. They were fading, along with the fear that had gripped her so tightly.

I’m still here; I’m still me—whoever that is.

And she was going to figure that out and whatever had happened—no matter what it took.

As she tied the towel around her and reached for the robe, a strange feeling settled over her, like the soft buzz of anticipation before a storm. Something was coming—she could feel it in her bones, as sure as she had felt the need to run. But this time, she wasn’t going to run. Not yet, anyway.

Briar stepped out of the bathroom, the plush robe wrapped snugly around her, her damp curls falling loosely over her shoulders as she gently combed through the tangles with herfingers. The air in the room felt cool against her freshly scrubbed skin, soothing in a way that almost lulled her back into a sense of security.

But as she entered the room, she stopped short, her breath catching in her throat.

He stood near the window, where the early morning sunlight spilled over him, accentuating the broad lines of his shoulders and the sharp angles of his face. He was tall, with well-defined muscles that spoke of years spent laboring outdoors rather than time in a gym. His tanned skin contrasted with the dark waves of his hair, which looked as though the wind had tousled it just moments ago. Everything about him seemed sculpted from raw strength, a man forged by the elements rather than polished by vanity.

He should have been frightening. And yet, he wasn’t.

Briar’s heart skipped a beat, but not from fear. It was something else entirely—a slow, creeping awareness that coiled low in her belly, waking a heat she hadn’t expected. Her pulse quickened, not in warning, but in recognition.

Those eyes—piercing, dark, and brimming with unspoken passion—were familiar. She had seen them before. Not in this life, but in her dreams. They had been watching her through moonlight and mist, both man and wolf, calling to her in ways she didn’t fully understand. But how could the wolf and the man be one and the same? And yet, she knew they were.

A shiver ran down her spine, and her breath hitched, the air between them charged with an unspoken connection that buzzed against her skin. She stared at him, her mind scrambling to make sense of his presence, but her instincts whispered that he wasn’t a threat. He wouldn’t hurt her. She was safe with him.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the space between them humming with tension. His gaze settled on her, as though hecould see through every wall she had built to protect herself, every lie she had told to survive.

She clutched the edges of the robe tighter around her, her fingers digging into the soft fabric, but the gesture was more reflexive than necessary. She wasn’t afraid—just off balance, as if the ground beneath her had shifted and left her standing on uneven footing.

“Good morning.” His voice was low, rich, and steady—a sound that sent a pulse thrumming through her veins.

Briar swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Morning…” she murmured, though the word felt foreign on her tongue.

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