Page 104 of Chained By the Alpha
Vance raises an eyebrow. “You’re running out of time, Zayn. And she’ll know once she has her wolf, anyway. Why notjust tell her? Let the mate bond do its work.” I drink my glass of whiskey.
“Is this about tradition because no one follows tradition anymore? I know Mom liked the idea, but it is unrealistic.” He probes, refilling my glass.
“Partly.” I take a smaller sip this time, letting the whiskey linger on my tongue. “It’s more about respect. Cleo’s been sheltered, kept away from pack politics and wars. She views the world with a purity that’s… rare.”
“Rare or naive?” Vance interjects.
“Both,” I concede. “Which is precisely why I want her to come to me out of love, not obligation or some predestined fate. I want to wait until she accepts the bond because she feels it, truly feels it.”
“You don’t seem convinced. Since when do you care about waiting? I’m sorry, brother, it sounds more like you’re trying to protect your virtue, not hers,” he laughs. “Which the entire city knows that’s been gone for a while.” I chuckle because he’s right, maybe that is why I want to do things differently with Cleo. If I had known I would find my mate this early in my life, I would have waited for her, too.
“To the rest of the city, it looks like I kidnapped her and turned her against her father, and I’m not stupid. She questions that herself,” I say, worry edging my voice. “Her 20th birthday is close. It’s a rite of passage for she-wolves. She needs to feel the connection organically. I don’t want her or the cities thinking I claimed her because I sired her, that I forced a mate bond.”
“She would still recognize her mate if it weren’t you. I don’t get it, a mate bond will always overpower a chosen bond, marked or not.”
I lean back, rolling the empty glass between my hands. “I know that, I…” I put my head in my hands. “She has already let me mark her, yet still believes I am rejecting her by not sleepingwith her.” Looking at Vance, I see it clearly on his face that he does not understand my reasoning. Now I am starting to doubt it myself.
“Alright, Alpha,” Vance concedes with a sigh. “Just be careful. If your wolf takes over...”
“Zarek is restless, but he understands.” I stand, the scar on my flank pulling slightly—a reminder of battles fought and those yet to come. “I need to do right by her. By both of us. I want her to mark me when we reach that part, to complete the bond fully; I don’t want to spoil it for her. It’s how it should be, and I know she won’t mark me until she has her wolf.”
“Good luck convincing him to be patient until her birthday.”
“He’ll manage,” I say, yet the certainty doesn’t quite make it to my ears.
“Come on, you can drink, and I’ll drop you home afterward. At least then I won’t have to worry about Zarek going crazy on her if you’ve passed out.”
“I have meetings tomorrow. I’ll have a few more, then I should head back.”He nods, sliding the bottle of whiskey over to me.
• • •
CLEO
THE CLATTERof pots and pans echoes through the empty kitchen as I rummage for the right skillet. The sharp scent of rosemary and thyme fills the air, a fragrant attempt to maskthe tension that still lingers from the fight with Zayn. My hands shake a little as I place the pan on the stove, the flame springing to life with a click and whoosh.
I’m not the best cook—I know that—but it’s the gesture that counts, right? A peace offering in the form of a cooked meal since that is the only thing I can possibly offer him. The silence in our home is suffocating, each tick of the clock stretching the distance between us. Zayn could walk through that door at any moment, or he might stay away until morning. There’s no telling when he’ll return, and I feel worse knowing he left his own house to get away from me.
My fingers fumble with a tomato, slicing it more clumsily than I’d like to admit. I wish I could slice away the regret just as easily, peel back the layers of our last conversation, and start fresh.
The sizzle of garlic in the pan is a small victory as I toss in the chopped vegetables. I hover over the stove, stirring with more vigor than necessary.
I let out a deep breath, as the steam dances upward, mingling with the fading daylight. My thoughts drift to Zayn, his touch, a lingering promise of raw passion and untamed desire, always leaves me aching for more and also distracts me from the task at hand.
The sizzle of the pan escalates too quickly, the pan catching on fire, the scent of charred meat and vegetables replacing the rich aroma I had intended, and I race to shut the stove off and try to rescue the steaks; the flames rise higher. I drop it in the sink, turning the tap on. My heart sinks as I peek into the skillet—my attempt at a perfect steak, now an overcooked slab, blackened beyond recognition. With a frustrated groan, I slide it into the trash. Grabbing a tea towel, I open the sliding door off the side of the kitchen that leadsoutside and try to waft the smoke outside, hoping not to set off the fire alarms.
Thankfully, they don’t go off, but now I am left with attempting to find something else to cook.
“Damn it,” I mutter, scouring the freezer for anything else suitable, it’s mostly roasts, which need to be thawed, or meats I don’t recognize, but they certainly aren’t steak.
Wait—the basement.
I remember there’s another freezer down there, probably stocked with something salvageable, and I make a beeline for the door leading downstairs.
Mid-step, my phone buzzes alive with Zayn’s ringtone—a flutter of relief that has butterflies swarming my belly, knowing he can’t hate me if he is calling. I fumble for the device, answering the call with a quick swipe.
“Hey,” I breathe out, anticipation knotting my stomach.
“Cleo.” Zayn’s voice is a soothing balm laced with regret. “I…I’m sorry about earlier. That shouldn’t have happened.”
