Page 56 of The Alpha's Pretend Mate

The thought pierced through her alcohol-induced fog, but it was too late. They were already pulling up to the Whiteborn estate.

Marcus practically dragged Alysa to the front door, his anger radiating off him in waves. He pounded on the door with enough force to wake the dead.

Alysa stumbled, her legs weak beneath her as Marcus caught her arm, steadying her just before she could fall. "Damn it, Alysa."

Cassius appeared moments later, his hair mussed and eyes wide with surprise. His gaze darted from Marcus to Alysa, confusion quickly morphing into concern. "What's going on? Alysa, are you alright?"

Before Alysa could respond, Marcus shoved her toward Cassius. "You have some explaining to do, White," he growled. "Your 'mate' here had quite the interesting story to tell at the bar tonight."

Cassius caught Alysa, steadying her against his chest. She inhaled his familiar scent—pine and rain—and felt her knees go weak.

Why does he have to smell so good?

"What are you talking about, Redwood?" Cassius's voice was low, dangerous.

Marcus's laugh was cruel. "Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Your little charade? The lie you told to keep me away from her? It's all out in the open now."

Alysa felt Cassius stiffen against her. She wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor and never emerge.

This is all my fault.

"This isn't the time or place for this discussion," Cassius said, his tone clipped. "Alysa needs to rest."

But Marcus wasn't backing down. "Oh, we're having this discussion now, White. You lied to me, to your Pack, to the council. Do you have any idea of the consequences?"

Alysa's head was spinning, the voices around her fading in and out like a badly tuned radio. She caught snippets of their heated exchange—words like "alliance" and "council" and "consequences" swirling together in a dizzying mix.

Cassius’s grip tightened on Alysa as he stared down Marcus, his expression unreadable but for the flicker of anger in his eyes. "I did what I had to," he bit out, his voice a low rumble. "This isn’t your concern."

Marcus’s laugh was bitter, a harsh sound that grated against the quiet of the room. "Isn’t my concern? You made it my concern when you dragged her into this mess. You think the council will just let this slide? That I will?"

The alcohol made everything feel distant, like she was watching from underwater.

I shouldn’t have said anything. This is my fault.

"You've jeopardized everything," Marcus was saying, his voice rising. "The alliance, the peace between our Packs. All for what? To keep the she-wolf out of my bed?"

Cassius's grip on Alysa tightened, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Watch your tone, Redwood."

Marcus sneered. "Or what? You'll lie about that, too?" He took a step back, his eyes glinting dangerously in the moonlight. "The council will hear about this, White. Mark my words."

As he turned to leave, Marcus paused, throwing one last barb over his shoulder. "Learn to take care of what belongsto you, Alpha White," he said, his tone mockingly light. "Or someone else might just step in and do it for you."

With that, he was gone, leaving Cassius and Alysa alone in the doorway.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Alysa could feel the tension radiating off Cassius in waves, could hear the rapid beat of his heart against her ear. She wanted to apologize, to explain, but the words wouldn't come.

Without a word, Cassius scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he carried her inside. Alysa's head lolled against his shoulder, the world tilting and swaying around her.

He took her straight to his bedroom, to the ensuite bathroom. Gently, he set her down on the edge of the large marble tub. Alysa watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he turned on the taps, steam quickly filling the air.

"Cassius," she mumbled, reaching out to grab his shirt. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—”

"Shh," he hushed her, his voice gentler than she expected. "We'll talk in the morning. Right now, you need to get cleaned up."

With efficient movements, he helped her out of her clothes. In her drunken state, Alysa couldn't muster the energy to feel embarrassed. She let him lower her into the warm water, sighing as it enveloped her.

Cassius's touch was clinical as he washed her, his hands moving with practiced ease. But even through her alcohol-induced haze, Alysa could feel the tension in his fingers, could see the tightness around his eyes.

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