Page 43 of The Alpha Under My Bed

A cold gust of hallway air kissed my skin as I pulled the door open just enough to see the package.

A simple, unmarked white box.

No delivery person.

No sender.

No evidence of how it got here.

Just the box.

My pulse pounded in my throat, hands trembling as I stooped down to grab it. The weight of it wasn’t much, but it felt heavy. Like lead. Like something irreversible.

I backed into my apartment, locking the door the second it was shut, my breath coming too fast, too shallow. My legs felt weak, my stomach twisting as I turned the box over in my hands.

I didn’t want to open it.

I had to.

Slowly, carefully, I lifted the lid.

Inside, nestled between soft folds of black silk, was a single glass bottle.

Amber liquid gleamed in the low light, the curved glass catching the warm glow of my bedside lamp. A handwritten label curled around the middle.

“Drink it, baby. It’s safe. I just need you to trust me.”

I shoved the lid back on, recoiling as if the words had reached up and burned me.

My whole body felt locked, frozen, like if I just held still long enough, this wouldn’t be real. Like I could press my hands over my eyes and when I opened them, it would all be gone.

It wouldn’t be.

Because this wasn’t a dream.

And he wasn’t a dream.

I clenched my hands into fists, nails biting into my palms, my breath shaking on the exhale.

This was a test. A final check to make sure I was still playing by his rules.

And if I drank it?—

He’d come.

I knew it as surely as I knew the lock at my waist, as surely as I knew the bond mark at my throat.

My throat tightened.

I pressed my tongue against my teeth, forcing the panic back down.

I needed the belt off.

Even if it meant this, even if it meant him.

My fingers trembled as I reached for the bottle, twisting the cap. A faint, herbal scent curled into the air—warm, slightly floral, something vaguely familiar.

I hesitated.

---