Page 76 of The Alpha Under My Bed

It wasn’t even the slow, curling pulse of satisfaction that wasn’t mine at all—one that whispered mine from the other side of the bond I’d just sealed.

It was the realization.

I wasn’t alone.

I sat up too quickly, my breath catching as the sheets tangled around my legs. The room spun, its edges too sharp, too bright, the world pressing in on me like it was all too real. My body felt sluggish, heavy—as if I were still caught in some fevered haze. But I wasn’t dreaming. I wasn’t sick.

I was claimed.

Mal was there, leaning against the headboard, his eyes locked on me with that infuriatingly steady, unreadable gaze. His arms were folded—calm, composed, and annoyingly patient—like he’dbeen waiting for me to wake up, like he already knew what was coming.

Like he had planned it all along.

Instinct made my fingers rise to my throat, pressing gently against the fresh bond mark there. It throbbed beneath my touch, a pulse of warmth that shot straight through me, igniting something deep in my core.

My stomach twisted.

The bond wasn’t one-sided anymore.

I could feel everything.

The possessiveness curling low in Mal’s gut, the dark amusement winding through his veins, and the slow, smoldering hunger that was his, but still sent a wave of heat through me—making my thighs tighten against the sensation.

I made a sound—something between a gasp and a whimper.

His lips twitched.

I ripped the blankets off, stumbled to my feet, but my legs buckled beneath me. The world tilted, heat rushing through my body, slick pooling between my thighs even as I clenched my teeth against it.

No. No, no, no.

I braced myself against the nightstand, breathing hard, my entire body betraying me.

Mal was still watching.

Still waiting.

Still letting me figure it out.

And then he finally spoke.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” His voice was slow, amused, drenched in satisfaction. “See how far you get.”

The bond tightened.

I froze.

I couldn’t breathe.

Not because the bond was tightening like a noose around my ribs—though it was.

Not because my body was on fire, aching in a way I couldn’t fight—though it was.

But because Mal was still sitting there, watching me with that face.

Not smug. Not apologetic.

Just steady. Just certain.

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