Page 15 of The Alpha Under My Bed

I felt it in the way my gaze lingered when he wasn’t looking—watching the way the light caught along his jaw, the curve of his lips when he smirked, the effortless way his hands moved when he worked on something.

I felt it in the way I wanted.

For so long, I’d told myself that being in love with Mal wasn’t practical. That it didn’t matter. That it wasn’t enough. That someday, I’d have to find someone else—an alpha, a pack, someone who could handle my heats when my suppressants inevitably started failing.

But maybe…

Maybe I’d been wrong.

Maybe I didn’t need an alpha. Maybe I didn’t need a scent match, or a pack, or some fucking algorithm deciding who was best for me.

Maybe I’d spent years searching for something that had been right in front of me all along.

Because Mal wassafe. Mal wasconstant. Mal was the one person I had never doubted, never questioned, never had to wonder if he was going to leave.

And if my heats did come back full force?

I’d figure it out.

I had been handling them alone for years. I knew the rhythm of my body, could feel them coming—quarterly, like clockwork. I’d survived the worst of them, biting down on a pillow as the shakes and pain wracked through me, muscles clenching around a toy that wasn’t enough, but at least helped. At least dulled the sharpest edges.

And if I needed more?

There were options. Artificial knots. Gels. Toys that pulsed just right—enough totrickmy body into believing I was okay, even if I wasn’t.

I had survived before.

I’d survive again.

Besides, I didn’t evenremembermy heats anymore. They came and went like a fever dream, fading before I could grasp anything beyond the dull ache in my limbs when I woke up.

That wasn’t uncommon for omegas. Some went into a haze, their minds shutting down to protect them from the worst of it. Some said they blacked out entirely.

I had always beenrelievedI was one of them.

That I didn’t have to remember the pain.

That I didn’t have to rememberbeing alone.

But maybe I wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.

Maybe Mal wasenough.

I swallowed hard, tracing the rim of my mug with my fingertip, my pulse loud in my ears.

If I bonded him, that would be it.

No more waiting. No more searching. No more wondering if I would ever find someone whostayed.

Malwould.

Malalwayshad.

And maybe it wasn’t what I wassupposedto do. Maybe it wasn’t what wasexpected.

But maybe I didn’t care anymore.

Maybe I just wantedhim.

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