Page 77 of Alpha's Regret: My Luna Has A Son

“It's fine,” I say to him out loud so Everly can hear too. I cut the mind-link and hear Everly sigh.

“I'll grab you a towel, and if you get beaten in the morning by a petite girl with an angelic face, it's just Zoe; I live with her,” Everly warns him. I can only imagine the amused look Tatum would have had at that. I hear him grunt, and I smile, amused that she would warn him she lives with someone. He already knew—he would have noticed the extra scents.

“Okay, can I go now? Tatum is sleeping on the couch, and I'm tired.”

“Yes, Everly, goodnight,” I tell her, and she hangs up. I sigh. Now to convince her to let me mark her…

I stare up at my ceiling. I can’t help but smile, despite the fact she hates me. She still named our son after me. Valarian is my and my father's middle name. All the men in our family have the same middle name; well, except Valarian, obviously, which makes me wonder what it is. Yeah, my dad definitely has a thing for the letter V.

Valen Valarian Solace, what a mouthful that was growing up, yet I know he also named me in honor of my mother, Valarie, with a mix of his name too.

The Alpha meeting is coming up soon. It won't be long now before I'll have to put everything out in the open. I just hope Everly will let me mark her within the week. I'm not so sure whether I could actually go through with forcibly marking her—not after everything I've already made her endure—and I don't want to give her more reason to hate me.

On the plus side, I now have more excuses to see her since we share a son together. I never gave much thought to being a father. I've always wanted kids because it was expected, but I never really pictured children. However, after meeting Valarian, it's all I want to be now, fuck everything else. I just want my mate and son; want to be a part of his life and hers if she'll have me. Rolling on my side, I set my alarm—I have a pinky promise to keep, and I have no intentions of breaking it.

ChapterForty

Everly

Yesterday was rough, last night even tougher. I didn't get any sleep; my entire body is aching from tossing and turning. The mate bond grows stronger each time I see him, and the pain of denying it is getting harder to ignore. I roll out of bed to the sound of soft murmurs—that means Zoe is awake. I hear her trying to wake Casey in the room beside mine. Getting to my feet, I quickly open my door to see her in all her bedhead glory. She yawns and smiles at me.

“Morning,” she says, turning her attention back to Casey's open door before she does a double take, then steps away from me. Casey starts to step out of her room when Zoe shoves her back inside the door and quickly shuts it. Casey bangs on the door in objection.

“Just a minute, sweetie,” Zoe says before gripping my arm.

“What happened? Did that bastard hurt you? I'll fucking kill him,” she whispers with venom in her voice.

“Swear Jar,” Casey calls through the closed door while I try to figure out what's gotten into her.

“Huh?”

Zoe ushers me into the bathroom, turning me to look in the mirror, and I gasp at what I see. There’s blood smeared on my face, and the dark rings under my eyes look like I got into a fight. No, lost a fight. I reach for a washcloth and quickly wash my face, but there's no bruising or sign of physical injuries.

“Must be a nosebleed,” I tell her, which is something that's becoming more frequent. Whenever I see him, it seems to me that something gets worse—headaches or nosebleeds. I blink at my reflection before leaning in when I notice the discoloration of the whites around my eyes—no longer white but blood red.

“What the fuck?” I whisper.

“You need to figure out something soon, Everly.”

“It's fine; I'll go see a doctor,” I tell her, though I know it's pointless.

“No, you need to see your mate. Or mark someone.”

I stare at her in the mirror. Her eyes are watery and filled with concern as she watches me.

“It's been four and half years, Everly, and you're already deteriorating. What will it be like in another five years? How much worse?”

I shrug. I have no idea, but clearly, that isn't the answer she was after because she stalks off down the hall. The moment I step out of the bathroom, I hear a shriek before her voice reaches my ears.

“The bodyguard, right? Gees, you scared the crap out of me.”

Walking into the living room, I find Tatum sitting up.

“You get many break-ins to sleep on your uncomfortable sofa?” he groans, and I hear his back crack. He tosses the blanket aside before making his way to the kitchen and flicking the kettle on.

“Coffee?” he asks, giving Zoe the once over; she's wearing her silky pajamas with kittens on them and rainbow toe-socks.

“Nice socks,” Tatum smirks, and she glares at him. He's barking up the wrong tree if he's going to mock her socks; she has an entire collection of those toe-socks, and in the wintertime, she even likes to wear them with her flip-flops. She calls them her 'winter edition' flip-flops. She growls at him, and he purrs back at her, which shuts her up quickly before she purses her lips and narrows her eyes at him.

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