Chapter 132: Reluctant Surrender
Chapter 132: Reluctant Surrender
(Ethan’s POV)*
I froze in place as Olivia’s blouse slipped from her shoulders, revealing the delicate lace of her bra against her pale skin. My wolf surged forward, a primal growl building in my chest at the
sight of my mate.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice husky with a mixture of surprise and something
darker.
Olivia’s emerald eyes flashed with cold fury as she stared me down.
“What are you pretending for?” she spat. “You used such despicable means to force me to come to you by threatening my mother’s treatment. If not for this, could it be just to have a platonic conversation with me?”
Her wolf bristled beneath the surface, her anger palpable in the air between us.
I swallowed hard, fighting to maintain my composure. The sight of her partially undressed was testing my control in ways I hadn’t anticipated.
“Put your clothes back on,” I ordered, my voice rougher than intended. “That’s not why I brought you here.”
Olivia laughed, a harsh sound devoid of humor. “Isn’t it? You’ve made it clear what you want. Let’s just get it over with so my mother can have her surgery.”
Her words stung, but I couldn’t deny the truth in them. I had used underhanded tactics to bring her here, to get her away from Lucas Blackwood.
The thought of the rival Alpha touching my mate made my wolf snarl with possessive rage.
She was mine. She had always been mine.
“We’ll have.dinner first,” I said firmly, turning away to give her privacy. “Then we’ll talk.”
“Do you think I have an appetite looking at you?” she retorted, her wolf’s disgust evident in her
tone.
I turned back to face her, allowing my Alpha authority to surface. “I want you to eat. Do you
have a choice?”
My amber eyes flashed with power, reminding her of her powerlessness in this situation. It
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wasn’t how I wanted things between us, but I was desperate to keep her here, away from
Lucas Blackwood.
Olivia’s jaw tightened, but she snatched her blouse from the floor and roughly pulled it back on. Her fingers trembled slightly as she fastened the buttons, her wolf clearly agitated
beneath her skin.
“Fine,” she said coldly. “Let’s have your dinner.”
In the dining room, she deliberately chose the seat farthest from mine at the long table. Her wolf remained alert, wary of my every move as I took my place beside her instead.
The venison stew steamed in its serving dish, filling the air with a rich aroma. I reached for a
piece of meat and began to peel it carefully, placing it in her bowl.
Without hesitation, Olivia picked it up and threw it in the trash.
Undeterred, I prepared another piece and held it to her lips. “Eat.‘”
She turned her face away, her emerald eyes flashing with defiance.
“Eat,” I repeated, my voice carrying the subtle undertone of an Alpha command.
Forced to comply, she opened her mouth and swallowed the meat whole. Immediately, she
began to choke, her face reddening as she gasped for air.
Panic seized me. I patted her back frantically, my wolf anxious at my mate’s distress.
“Olivia! Are you alright?”
She pushed me away violently and rushed to the bathroom. The sounds of her coughing and
retching echoed through the apartment, each one like a knife to my gut.
I followed her, grabbing a warm towel and a glass of water. My wolf whined anxiously,
desperate to comfort its mate despite our estrangement.
“Liv,” I said softly, offering the water. “Does it have to be like this? Can’t we just get along?”
Her response was to spit the water directly in my face, her emerald eyes blazing with
contempt.
I sighed, wiping my face with the towel. This wasn’t going as I’d hoped.
“Come back to the table,” I said, trying a different approach. “I’ve asked the chef to prepare
some moonberry tea and a lighter venison stew. You need to eat something.”
Reluctantly, she followed me back to the dining room. This time, she ate slowly, mechanically,
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her wolf’s need for nourishment overriding her desire to defy me.
As she ate, I watched her take in the apartment, noting how her eyes lingered on certain details–the moonstone–infused bath products in the bathroom, the specific brand of moonberry tea she preferred, the books on the shelf that matched her tastes.
I had prepared this place for her, for us. A new beginning.
After dinner, she stood abruptly. “I’m going to shower.”
I nodded, relieved that she was at least taking care of herself. “There are fresh towels in the
bathroom.”
In the silence of her absence, I paced the living room, my wolf restless beneath my skin. I wanted–needed–to reconnect with my mate, but her hatred was a wall between us that
seemed insurmountable.
When she emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her hair dripping wet, she walked past me without a glance. I followed her to the bedroom, where she lay on the bed, eyes closed, feigning resignation.
“Your hair is still wet,” I said, grabbing a towel. “You’ll catch cold.”
I pulled her up to sit, ignoring her stiffness as I began to dry her hair. The scent of her–clean
skin and the subtle floral notes of the shampoo–filled my senses, making my wolf strain
toward her.
As I worked, she leaned against me, perhaps too tired to maintain her rigid posture. For a
moment, I felt a flicker of the bond we once shared, a connection that transcended our current
animosity.
My self–control wavered. I leaned in, almost nuzzling her neck in a traditional werewolf gesture of affection, but stopped when I caught the flash of disgust in her eyes before she closed
them.
The near–contact hung heavy between us, a chasm of unspoken emotions. I retreated, making an excuse about her wet hair needing more attention.
I sat her down at the vanity and continued drying her hair, struck by the role reversal. Once, long ago, she had done this for me after a particularly brutal training session in the rain.
My wolf yearned to groom her properly, to reestablish our bond through the intimate ritual, But I knew she would reject any such attempt.
When I finished, I changed the damp sheets and brought her a glass of moonlight milk, a
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soothing beverage that might help her sleep.
She drank it without comment and lay down, her body tense as if expecting the inevitable claiming that an Alpha might demand of his Luna.
But that wasn’t what I wanted–not like this, not with her hating every moment.
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I watched as sleep gradually claimed her, her wolf exhausted from maintaining her emotional defenses. Her features softened in slumber, reminding me of the woman I had once known,
the mate I had neglected.
After ensuring she was deeply asleep, I returned to the bedroom and carefully drew her into my arms. The emptiness my wolf had felt since our estrangement seemed to lessen with her
proximity.
I traced the curve of her cheek with my finger, noting the dark circles under her eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping well–that much was obvious.
“Goodnight,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
My wolf settled, content to simply hold its mate after so long. As I adjusted the blanket around us, Olivia’s phone lit up on the nightstand.
I reached for it, intending to silence it so it wouldn’t disturb her sleep. But the name on the
screen made my wolf growl.
Lucas Blackwood.
I checked the messages, finding a series of calls and texts from the rival Alpha asking about Olivia’s whereabouts and urging her not to do anything rash for her mother’s sake.
My wolf snarled possessively at his concern for my mate. Who was he to worry about her?
She was mine to protect, mine to care for.
Annoyed, I opened the camera app and took a picture of Olivia sleeping peacefully in my arms. Without hesitation, I sent it to Lucas, a clear territorial message from one Alpha to
another that needed no words.
Let him see who she belonged with. Let him understand that no matter what had happened
between us, Olivia was still my mate, my Luna.
