Page 47 of Tempted By the Alpha Outlaw

My hesitation must be obvious because she steps closer. “Please, Colt,” she says again, her wide eyes searching mine. “Just for tonight. I want to see something real. Something bigger than…everything else.”

I know what she’s asking isn’t just about the stars. It’s about freedom, about a moment of escape, about feeling like she’s more than the dutiful daughter of the den.

And damn it, I want to give her that.

But I also know what’s waiting for us if we stay. Her parents will be furious when they realize she’s gone. Whispers will spread through the den faster than wildfire, and every eye will turn to us. Staying means drawing a line in the sand, a line that can’t be erased. And if something happens—if I can’t keep my distance, if she doesn’t want me to—we’ll both cross that line, and there’s no going back.

My wolf growls low in my chest, impatient and possessive, urging me to take this chance. To give her what she wants. What I want.

“Alright,” I say finally, my voice rough with resignation. “We’ll stay. But just for tonight.”

Her face lights up, and for a moment, all the doubts, all the warnings screaming in my head, fade into the background. She smiles at me, soft and brilliant, and it feels like the world shifts beneath my feet. “Thank you, Colt,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

I nod, swallowing hard as I glance back at the telescope. “Let’s see if we can make it worth our while,” I say, though the words feel heavier than they should.

Magnolia turns back to the telescope, her fingers tracing its edges like she’s already imagining the stars it might reveal. And I stand there, watching her, knowing that staying here tonight will change everything. The air between us hums with unspoken possibilities, and I can feel it.

This is the moment. The tipping point.

And when the stars come out, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself from reaching for her.

17

MAGNOLIA

The observatory is eerily quiet as I move through the shadowed halls, the soft scuff of my boots against the floor the only sound in the empty space. I try to keep my movements light, careful not to disturb the dusty silence that seems to cling to every corner. My arms are loaded with blankets, a few mismatched pillows, and a ratty quilt I’d scavenged from a closet that smelled like it hadn’t been opened in decades. It’s not much, but it’ll do.

I pile them all in the center of what I think might have been a break room once upon a time. The walls are lined with faded posters of constellations, their edges curled and yellowed with age. There’s a broken-down couch pushed against one wall, its upholstery torn and sagging, and a rusted wood-burning stove that looks like it hasn’t been used in years. The entire room is a study in decay, but there’s something oddly comforting about it. It’s like the place is holding its breath, waiting for something to bring it back to life.

And tonight, I hope that something is me.

I glance toward the doorway that leads to the main observatory, where Colt is rummaging through old cabinets and shelves, muttering under his breath as he searches for the filament we came here to find. My heart pounds a little harder just knowing he’s close, the sound of his voice low and gravelly in the other room. I can’t let him see what I’m doing…not yet. Not until I’ve finished setting it all up.

Because I have a plan.

My heart beats faster just thinking about it, the knot of nerves in my stomach twisting tighter. Staying here overnight with him, alone, away from the den—it’s everything I’ve been hoping for since we set out this morning. It’s reckless, it’s impulsive, and it’s probably a terrible idea. But I’ve already made up my mind.

Tonight is going to be the night.

I stare down at the little nest I’ve made in the center of the room, a mix of blankets and pillows arranged just so. It’s not much, but it feels intimate, almost cozy. The kind of space that invites closeness, that creates opportunities. I imagine us lying here together, the distance between us shrinking until there’s nothing left. The thought sends a thrill through me, my cheeks flushing with heat.

It’s not like I didn’t think it through. I did. Maybe too much. This place feels perfect, romantic in its own wild, broken way. The stars overhead, the quiet solitude of the observatory, the warmth of Colt’s presence so close—it’s everything I’ve dreamed of.

But the doubts creep in anyway, uninvited and unwelcome. What if this is a mistake? What if he doesn’t want this? What if I’ve misread every look, every touch, every lingering moment between us?

I force myself to take a deep breath, pushing the doubts away. No. Colt isn’t the kind of man who does anything halfway.

If I tell him what I want—what I really want—he’ll give it to me.

And…I’m prepared. I’ve thought about this for weeks, maybe months, if I’m being honest with myself. I even slipped into the infirmary a few days ago and stole some condoms, just in case. They’re tucked in the side pocket of my bag now, a quiet reminder that I’m ready for this. I want this.

I want him.

A soft sound in the other room makes me pause, my pulse jumping. I glance toward the doorway, half-expecting Colt to walk in and catch me standing here, blushing like a fool. But he doesn’t. He’s still in the other room, his voice a low rumble as he mutters something to himself.

I shake my head, trying to focus. The little nest is almost ready, but I fluff one of the pillows for good measure, arranging it just so. The knot in my stomach tightens again, and for a moment, I consider abandoning the whole plan. I could pretend I wasn’t thinking about tonight, about him, about what this could mean. I could laugh it off, act like this was just about needing a place to sleep for the night and nothing more.

But no. That’s not what I want.

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