Chapter 39 Get Out!
Aelira’s POV
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“Gossip?” My interest is instantly sparked by Daelor’s mention of it.
After finishing with the washed dishes, he places them in the cupboard and pulls off the apron he’s been wearing. The fabric falls away, revealing
his crisp white shirt tucked into his black suit pants.
The sleek black belt draws the eye to his waist, emphasizing his broad shoulders and tapered hips. I can’t help but notice the defined muscles beneath his clothing, radiating a powerful Alpha energy.
Quickly, I avert my gaze, realizing just how confined the kitchen feels with him present. I rush into the living area and turn to retrieve the tea set. It’s the least I can do after his efforts in the kitchen.
“Here,” I say as I offer him a cup.
He takes a sip and raises his eyebrows in mild surprise. “Did you buy new
tea?”
I nod eagerly. “Yeah.”
I refuse to let him continue drinking the cheap tea I usually have on hand. After everything he has done for me, he deserves something better.
Daelor locks his silver–gray eyes onto mine, their brightness almost mesmerizing, as if a peculiar light dances in his pupils. I find myself
flustered under his penetrating stare.
Just as I’m about to speak, he suddenly laughs. “Do you want to hear more
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<Chapter 39 Get Out!
gossip?”
“What is it?” I inquire, intrigued by the diversion.
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“Cyrinne’s ex–mate, Draven, has returned to the territory for treatment,” he
states effortlessly. “And it was Alarion’s father who facilitated the
admission procedures.”
I blink, feeling a wave of confusion wash over me. I comprehend each word
separately, but as a whole, it makes little sense. Cyrinne’s ex–mate is back
for treatment, and it was my father–in–law, Roderic Riven, who managed the
details.
“Really?” I reply, taken aback.
am aware that Roderic has always had a soft spot for Cyrinne because
she is the daughter of someone he once respected, but I am astonished
that he would go out of his way to assist her ex–mate.
“Cyrinne isn’t planning to reconcile with her ex–mate, is she?” I ponder
aloud.
It doesn’t add up. Clearly, Cyrinne has been visiting the OB/GYN recently,
and I highly doubt it was to terminate her pregnancy. She must want to keep the pup. So what would prompt her ex–mate’s sudden return?
Daelor simply smiles, offering no further insight.
“Isn’t that true?” I press, sensing that he knows more than he’s revealing.
He shakes his head, a teasing smile still playing on his lips. “I can’t say for
sure.”
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<Chapter 39 Get Out!
gossip?”
“What is it?” I inquire, intrigued by the diversion.
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“Cyrinne’s ex–mate, Draven, has returned to the territory for treatment,” he
states effortlessly. “And it was Alarion’s father who facilitated the
admission procedures.”
I blink, feeling a wave of confusion wash over me. I comprehend each word
separately, but as a whole, it makes little sense. Cyrinne’s ex–mate is back
for treatment, and it was my father–in–law, Roderic Riven, who managed the
details.
“Really?” I reply, taken aback.
I am aware that Roderic has always had a soft spot for Cyrinne because she is the daughter of someone he once respected, but I am astonished that he would go out of his way to assist her ex–mate.
“Cyrinne isn’t planning to reconcile with her ex–mate, is she?” I ponder
aloud.
It doesn’t add up. Clearly, Cyrinne has been visiting the OB/GYN recently, and I highly doubt it was to terminate her pregnancy. She must want to keep the pup. So what would prompt her ex–mate’s sudden return?
Daelor simply smiles, offering no further insight.
“Isn’t that true?” I press, sensing that he knows more than he’s revealing.
He shakes his head, a teasing smile still playing on his lips. “I can’t say for
sure.”
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I decide not to pursue it any further. After all, it’s merely gossip, and about Cyrinne, no less. I don’t have any desire to delve into her situation more
than I have to.
The room fills with the scent of tea as the afternoon sunlight casts gentle
shadows through the window, creating a warm and inviting ambiance. It
feels pleasant to share this quiet moment with someone.
Suddenly, my mobile phone vibrates on the table. I glance down to see
Alarion’s name on the caller ID.
Before I can decide on a course of action, Daelor, who has been fidgeting
with the silver lighter I gifted him, unexpectedly ignites a small flame. Our eyes meet for a brief moment. I then turn my focus back to the phone and
silence the call.
A moment later, a text notification popped up: [Come down! I’m downstairs
at your apartment!]
I furrowed my brow slightly. Alarion is unusually insistent today.
“Is Alarion here?” Daelor inquires softly, clearly having noticed the
message.
“Don’t concern yourself with him,” I answer, setting my phone aside. “He’ll
go home once he gets bored with waiting.”
This has been the pattern lately. Whenever Alarion indulges in wolf-
whiskey, he shows up at my building demanding I come down. Initially, I found it frustrating, but now I simply tune him out until he eventually
leaves.
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I couldn’t figure out why Alarion suddenly appears to be a different wolf. Previously, I was the one constantly vying for his attention while he remained aloof and detached. Now, however, the roles have completely
shifted.
Daelor cast his gaze downward and took another sip of his tea. “Do you
want assistance in getting rid of him?”
“There’s no need,” I replied, shaking my head. “Let him be.”
I’ve already called in too many favors from Daelor. If I keep depending on him in this way, when will I ever manage to return the favor?
We chat, but it doesn’t take long before loud knocking erupts at my door. It intensifies to the point where it’s impossible to ignore.
I let out a heavy sigh. “He won’t give up, will he?”
The knocking persists, accompanied by Alarion’s voice. “Aelira! I know you’re inside! Open the door!”
To my surprise, Daelor abruptly stands and marches toward the entrance. Before I can intervene, he flings the door open.
The hallway falls silent. I step up beside Daelor in the doorway.
Alarion stands there, frozen, his amber eyes wide with astonishment. “What are you doing here?” he demands, his gaze darting between Daelor
and me.
Daelor’s silver–gray eyes drill into the bag that Alarion holds. “What do you have in there?” he asks, his tone shifting to a menacing whisper.
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“None of your business,” Alarion retorts, waving his hand dismissively. He
then focuses on me. “Aelira, I’ve brought you some special healing herbs for your hand.”
I notice Daelor’s expression darken immediately. “Her hand?” he echoes
slowly, putting the pieces together. “The hand that Cyrinne scratched?”
Alarion’s telling silence confirms Daelor’s suspicions. His scent reveals the
truth despite his attempt to keep a neutral face.
In an instant, Daelor’s calm demeanor shatters. He lunges forward,
grasping Alarion by the collar and forcefully slamming him against the wall
in the hallway.
“You knew,” Daelor growls, his face mere inches from Alarion’s. “You were aware your little girlfriend injured Aelira, and you remained silent!”
“Daelor, enough!” I shout, rushing forward. My wolf stirs anxiously within me, worried that a physical altercation might erupt between the two formidable Alphas. If they begin fighting, it could pose a risk not just to
them but also to my pregnancy.
Daelor ignores my plea, his eyes glued to Alarion’s throat. “You’re pathetic,” he hisses. “Defending a she–wolf who intentionally harmed your mate.”
I place my hand on Daelor’s arm, attempting to pull him back. “Please, it’s
not worth it.”
Finally, Daelor releases Alarion but doesn’t step back. Instead, he takes my
injured hand, making me wince as he inspects the wound through the
bandage he put on earlier.
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His jaw clenches, and he pivots back to Alarion. “Leave,” he commands, his voice exuding the undeniable authority of an Alpha King.
Shaking off his shock, Alarion distances himself from the wall, fury sparking in his amber eyes. “You have no authority to dictate my actions concerning my mate,” he retorts with venom. “You’re meddling in our mate bond, Daelor. Have you forgotten the principles of the pack? Mated she-
wolves should be off–limits to other Alphas.”
Daelor’s lip curls in disdain. “That principle doesn’t apply to wolves who are breaking their mate bonds.”
Alarion’s expression twists with rage. “We are NOT breaking our mate
bond! I’ve told you this before!”
“You don’t have the sole right to make that determination,” Daelor replies.
“Aelira’s decision is clear.”
“This situation is not about Aelira’s choice,” Alarion growls, his wolf seething beneath the surface. “This is about your desire for what’s mine. You’ve harbored feelings for her since we were young, haven’t you? I’ve often wondered why you seemed so eager to meet her at pack gatherings.”
I look at Alarion in confusion, struggling to understand his implications.
Daelor doesn’t deny it. His unwavering silver–gray eyes hold steady as he responds, “Yes, I have. And I’ve watched as you neglected and mistreated her for years. I refuse to stay silent any longer.”
Alarion’s eyes widen briefly before narrowing menacingly. “I will never
break my mate bond with Aelira. Never!”
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Daelor’s retort sends a shiver up my spine, his voice dropping to a lethal
whisper: “That’s not yours to decide!”
