Page 16 of Alpha's Heir

There was a sharp intake of breath, and then she was hugging me, her arms tight around my chest. "We can't give up hope. That's what they want, to break us, to make us feel defeated before the battle has even started."

I turned within her embrace, pulling her close. Her proximity was a reminder of what was real, her heartbeat a drum against the encroaching despair. "I just wish I had a damn clue about what to do next. I can't lose you, any of you, but every second we're just sitting ducks."

"We'll find a way. We have to." Her voice was muffled against my chest, her fingers gripping my shirt. "We can't let fear rule us."

I held her, feeling the tremble of her body against mine, knowing she felt every bit of the uncertainty that was coursing through me. There were no guarantees, no promises that could be made in the dark that the dawn would not claim as lies. Yet in that moment, the bond between us, that stubborn, unyielding grip we had on one another, was the one certainty I could cling to.

"We'll stand together," I whispered into her hair, the scent of her calming the storm inside me. "Like we always have. No matter what comes, Cora, I'm with you."

Her grip tightened, a silent vow exchanged in the darkness. The night was long, and the path ahead fraught with shadows, but as I lay there, with Cora's warmth seeping into my skin, a fragile sense of resolve settled over me. Together. It was the one word that held any meaning anymore. Together, we would face the coming storm, shoulder to shoulder, heart to heart. It was the only way we'd ever known how to fight. The only way we'd survive. Together.

The tears came before I could stop them, hot and relentless, a torrent I hadn't even known I'd been holding back. It was like some dam had broken inside me, all the fear, the anger, the sheer helplessness pouring out. I didn't weep often, but when I did, it was like a storm, fierce and cleansing.

Cora just held me, her arms a steady presence that didn't push or prod. She didn't speak, didn't ask me to stop or to explain. She was just there, solid and real, her touch grounding me as I fell apart. It was a rare moment, one where I wasn't the leader or the protector. I was just Weston, and I was scared.

Eventually, the tears slowed, and my breaths came easier. I felt hollowed out, like my emotions had been scraped clean from the inside. I looked at Cora, expecting pity or concern, but there was only understanding in her eyes.

She wiped away the last of my tears with the pads of her fingers, her touch gentle. And then, her hands didn't stop moving. They traced the lines of my face, my neck, down to my chest with a touch that was no longer just comforting. It was something more, something deeper.

Cora's eyes never left mine as her hands became more insistent, her body pressing closer. I could feel the heat from her skin, the intent behind her movements.

"We don't have to—" I started, unsure if this was what she needed or just a reaction to the raw moment we'd shared.

"I know," she whispered, cutting me off. "But I want to. I want you."

Her lips found mine, and it was like a switch flipped. All the emotion that had poured out of me came rushing back in a different form. Desire, need, a hunger that was about both connection and escape.

The mattress dipped as Cora shifted closer, her hand brushing against my bare arm, sending a shiver through my tired muscles. The room was dim, the only light spilling from the sliver of the moon through the gap in the curtains. Everything about that night felt charged, like the air before a storm.

“Hey,” her voice was a whisper, soft and laced with that soothing tone that always made the chaos in my head settle. “You’re all tensed up. Let me help you relax, okay?”

I nodded, the movement small, almost imperceptible. I felt the bed shift again as she positioned herself behind me, her legs on either side of my hips. The gentle pressure of her fingertips began at the nape of my neck, small circles that unwound the knots one by one.

“Shit, that’s good,” I murmured, letting my eyes fall shut, giving myself over to the sensation.

Cora’s chuckles were warm against my skin. “I’ve got you,” she said, her hands sliding over my shoulders, pressing down with just enough pressure to ease the tension but not enough to pain. “Just relax.”

And I tried, God, I tried. With each slow caress of her fingers, each deliberate touch, I could feel the weight on my shoulders becoming less burdensome. It wasn’t just her hands; it was her presence, a reminder that I wasn’t facing the darkness alone.

Her hands trailed down my back, and I could feel the coiled springs inside me unwinding. It was like she was smoothing out the creases in my soul, pressing warmth into places I didn’t even know were cold.

“Cora,” I said on an exhale, the sound more of a sigh than actual speech.

“Yeah?” Her hands had found their way to my arms, kneading the biceps, then down to my forearms, strong yet unbelievably gentle.

“This is… you’re…” Words failed me; they seemed too crude a tool to express the gratitude swelling up in me.

“I know,” she whispered again, her lips brushing the shell of my ear, sending another type of shiver down my spine. Her movements became slower, more deliberate, drawing out the moment, elongating the peace.

Her touch wandered, fingertips tracing the lines of my palms, dancing over the sensitive skin. The action was intimate, almost more so than any passionate encounter because it was so damn tender.

I turned within her embrace, suddenly needing to see her face. The moonlight caressed her features, casting shadows that made her eyes appear even more profound. The look in them was fierce and soft all at once, a reflection of the woman I knew so well. Lying there, with her in my arms, I could almost forget the shadows lurking just beyond our door.

Cora's touch was gentle, her hands tracing the lines and curves of my body, each motion a silent promise that no matter what, we were in this together. The softness of her palms against my skin was a stark contrast to the roughness of our reality. She was my calm in the eye of the storm, her presence a soothing balm to the worry eating away at my insides.

As her lips found mine, I could taste the lingering fear and resolve that flavored her kiss. Her lips were soft but insistent, pulling me away from the edge of despair. She kissed me like she could transfer her strength through that simple connection, and I found myself clinging to the lifeline she offered.

Her mouth moved from my lips to my jaw, then down to my neck, leaving a trail of warmth in her wake. Her hands never stilled, mapping my body with a familiarity that spoke of many nights spent wrapped in each other's embrace. It was a tenderness that spoke volumes, a silent conversation between two souls bound by more than fate.

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