Page 51 of The Alpha Under My Bed

I nodded, too tired to do anything else. He adjusted his grip, pulling me even closer, and I let him. For the first time in what felt like forever, I just let myself be held.

Fifteen

ELEANOR

I woke slowly,the warm, heavy weight of blankets cocooning me in a sense of strange comfort. The scent of cedar and smoke lingered in the fabric, wrapping around me like an invisible embrace. My eyes blinked open, struggling to adjust to the soft, filtered light creeping through unfamiliar curtains. It took me a moment to process where I was—Mal’s apartment. His bed.

My stomach clenched.

The events of last night came rushing back in a brutal flood—the bookstore, the frustration, the raw humiliation of breaking apart in his arms. The way he had held me, the way he had soothed me, made me feel... safe. And now, here I was, tangled in sheets that still smelled like him, the chastity belt still locked around my hips, a constant reminder of everything I couldn’t escape.

I groaned, shifting onto my side, only to freeze when I heard the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen. Mal was awake.

Of course he was.

Swallowing against the lump in my throat, I sat up, the familiar, uncomfortable weight of the belt pressing into my lower stomach. My body felt sore, overstimulated, yet still... I needed to leave. I couldn’t stay here, not like this. But a small part of me hesitated—not just because of the belt still locked in place, but because of Mal. What if my alpha—whoever he was—saw Mal as a threat? What if he decided Mal needed to be removed from the equation? The thought made ice run through my veins, the chill sharp and unforgiving.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I hesitated before standing. My fingers absently smoothed down the borrowed shirt I didn’t remember putting on. A fresh pair of folded leggings rested on the nightstand beside me. They weren’t mine. I frowned, running my fingers over the soft fabric, the tag still attached.

Did he… buy these for me?

A strange tightness gripped my chest, a mixture of confusion and something else I couldn’t quite name. I was too exhausted to unravel it.

Barefoot, I padded toward the kitchen, my steps muffled by the soft carpet beneath me. I paused at the threshold, taking in the sight before me—Mal at the stove, the sound of sizzling eggs mingling with the rich, comforting scent of coffee and something buttery. The air was thick with the scent of warmth, a stark contrast to the tension swirling in my chest.

“You’re cooking?” I murmured, my voice still rough from sleep.

Mal turned slightly, his gaze flicking over me with that slow, deliberate once-over of his, before his lips curved into a smirk. “You sound surprised.”

“I—” I crossed my arms, shifting my weight awkwardly. “Just didn’t expect it.”

He nodded toward the counter. “Figured you could use some food after last night. You slept like the dead.”

Heat crawled up my neck at the reminder, and I looked away, embarrassed. “I should go?—”

“No, you shouldn’t.” His voice was easy, the words casual, as if we were discussing the weather. But there was an undertone to it—a quiet finality that made my heart skip. “Stay. Just for the weekend.”

My head snapped up, disbelief threading through my voice. “Mal?—”

“I mean it.” He plated the food with effortless precision before turning fully to face me, his gaze steady and unflinching. “Let me take care of you, Ellie.”

The words hit me harder than I expected, my chest tightening painfully. This wasn’t fair. He wasn’t fair.

He looked so sincere, so certain—just like he always did when he fixed something in my apartment, when he checked in on me, when he made me feel like I was the most important thing in his world. And maybe I was.

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. “I can’t. I just... I don’t want you to get involved in this, Mal. What if he—what if something happens to you?”

“You don’t have to do it alone.” His voice softened, the teasing edge fading, replaced by something more vulnerable, more raw. “You never did.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into the hem of my borrowed shirt. I wanted to say no. I wanted to walk out that door, forget about the mess I’d gotten myself tangled in, pretend last night hadn’t happened.

But I was exhausted. And Mal—Mal was right there, offering me something I wasn’t sure I could refuse.

“…Fine,” I muttered, barely above a whisper. “Just for the weekend.”

His smile was slow, satisfied, like he’d won some quiet victory. “Good girl.”

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver through me, a tightness coiling low in my belly. I told myself it was just the exhaustion, the strain of everything finally hitting me. But I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it was something more.

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