Page 8 of The Alpha Under My Bed

Me: Pizza?

Mal: Extra cheese. Be there soon.

By the time I made it home, I had already placed the order, trading a few texts back and forth with Mal about toppings until I heard his familiar knock at my door.

When I opened it, he was leaning against the frame, a lazy smirk on his lips. “Convincing me to be social on a Friday night?” he teased, stepping past me like he belonged there.

I rolled my eyes, shutting the door behind him. “You call us hanging out in my nest social?”

Mal just hummed, toeing off his boots as I grabbed a handful of blankets from the couch, dragging them toward the nest I had built in the corner of my living room. It wasn’t fancy, but it was mine—soft blankets, plush pillows, comfort woven together in a way that settled something deep in my bones.

I barely had time to settle in before Mal dropped down beside me, his body solid and warm, his familiar scent mixing with the lingering traces of my own.

Right on cue, a sharp knock sounded at the door.

“Pizza,” I murmured, pushing myself up.

Mal stretched out like he hadpersonallyspent all day making the damn thing himself. “You get it. I’m comfortable.”

I snorted but grabbed the cash from the counter, trading a few polite words with the delivery guy before shutting the door behind me. The scent of melted cheese and garlic filled the air as I carried the box back, setting it between us before dropping onto the blankets.

Mal flipped open the box, swiping a slice before I’d even grabbed a napkin. He took a slow bite, gaze locked on me the whole time. Smug. Smug as hell.

“What?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Nothing,” he said around a mouthful of crust.

I rolled my eyes, grabbing my own slice before nodding at the remote. “Pick something, before I do.”

His lips quirked as he grabbed it, already scrolling through horror titles. I didn’t have to look to know he’d pick something that would have me peeking through my fingers, but I didn’t mind.

Not when it meant he’d stay.

And he always did.

I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that, wrapped in the quiet hum of the apartment, the city murmuring faintly beyond the window. The soft glow of the screen flickered against the walls, casting shifting shadows across the room.

Mal’s arm was still draped around me, warm and solid, his fingers resting just above my hip. He didn’t pull away. Didn’t shift. Just breathed slow and steady, like he was waiting.

The weight of it should have made me uneasy. Should have sent me untangling myself from him, putting distance between us before I let myself sink any deeper.

But I didn’t move.

I stayed, my heartbeat threading too closely to his, my body relaxing further into the quiet, unspoken thing that lived between us. Maybe it was the haze of sleep still clinging to me, or maybe it was the way his scent curled around me, grounding me in something I didn’t want to name.

Either way, I wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

Instead, I shifted closer, letting the warmth of him sink into me, the scent of leather and clove wrapping around my senses like a cocoon.

His grip tightened, just slightly.

Just enough to let me know he was awake, too.

Neither of us said anything.

Neither of us moved.

I just closed my eyes again, sinking deeper into the comfort of him, pretending—for just a little longer—that it was enough, because my nest felt different with him here. More settled. Less empty.

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