The Rogue Alpha's Detective Mate

Furry bond

Cassandra Kane

Sunday came and went, but unlike the previous day, Cassandra spent the day in a way she had never imagined: not cooped up in her office with her case notes, fighting the urge to pull her hair out in frustration, but instead, with her new furry companion, Alpha. The massive wolf, though wild by nature, was remarkably gentle around her, as though he understood the difference between a predator and a potential friend.

She had never wanted a pet. That was a fact she had always been certain of, but calling Alpha a pet felt wrong—he wasn’t a pet, he was something more. The thought made her chest tighten, her mind at odds with itself, as though she were betraying something deep inside her by even considering it. Perhaps it was the way his honey-colored eyes, intelligent and knowing, followed her every movement. Or how, on more than one occasion, he tilted his head as though understanding her words—nodding in that way only an animal that had lived longer than most people ever would could.

“Okay, buddy, what do you want to watch?” she asked aloud, sitting cross-legged on the couch, her gaze flicking between the TV and the wolf sprawled beside her, his large form taking up much of the space. His wet snout nudged at her shoulder, making her giggle as his tongue followed with a tentative, gentle lick.

“How about The Mummy?” she suggested, flicking through the options on the screen, her voice light and teasing. The wolf growled low in his throat, but Cassandra didn’t take it as a no—more like a grunt of disapproval, as if he didn’t quite get the appeal of mummies.

“Or how about He’s Just Not That Into You?” She turned to face him, her eyes twinkling mischievously. He exhaled a sharp huff, the wolf's version of an eye-roll, and Cassandra couldn’t help but laugh.

“Guess that’s a no, huh? Alright, we’re watching The Mummy then,” she grinned, enjoying the absurdity of having a conversation with a wolf like it was completely normal. In a way, it felt normal—like this was something they had always done.

Wow, Cassie. He's a wolf. You're acting like he's actually talking to you, her inner voice scolded her, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else about him. Something familiar and comforting. His eyes seemed to know her, and though she couldn't understand it, the sensation stirred something deep within her—a strange feeling that she had known him for far longer than just a couple of days.

Before the movie could start, she glanced at Alpha, who was now lying on the floor, his massive body stretched out like a wolf-shaped rug, looking both at ease and alert.

"Let’s check those wounds, shall we?" she murmured, already knowing it had been hours since she last tended to him. She fetched her first aid kit, her fingers moving methodically as she carefully unwrapped the bandages from his leg. To her surprise, the wound looked nearly healed, the skin smooth and only a faint scar left to mark the injury. Do wolves typically heal this fast? she wondered, making a mental note to Google it later.

She cleaned the area, avoiding pressure on the leg just in case of a sprain, then wrapped it up again. Moving on to his neck, she found the wounds there weren’t fully healed yet, but almost. With gentle precision, she cleaned and re-bandaged them, then gave him a playful boop on his snout as she finished.

Packing up the first aid kit, Cassandra made some popcorn and returned to the living room, settling down on the floor beside Alpha once more. She hit play on the movie and leaned back, the warmth of the blankets and the familiar sound of the film beginning to lull her into a relaxed state.

Two hours later, the living room was a cozy nest of pillows and blankets. Alpha was sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by the fortress she had built, his eyes half-closed in contentment as he rested. Cassandra struggled to keep her eyes open, the fatigue of the day settling in. Her head nodded and her eyelids grew heavy, but she fought it. She couldn’t fall asleep down here—her neck would be stiff the next morning, and she needed to be alert for her shift at the precinct.

But, as the last forty minutes of the movie ticked by, she gave in to the pull of sleep. The world around her faded, the warmth of the room and the rhythmic breathing of Alpha soothing her into unconsciousness.

When she stirred again, it was to the feeling of strong arms lifting her effortlessly. Her eyes fluttered open to see a familiar set of honey-brown eyes looking down at her. A flash of confusion crossed her mind, but the deep voice that spoke next, so low and comforting, cleared it away.

“Sleep,” the voice murmured, the command soft but undeniable. Shivers ran down her spine as the warmth of the words wrapped around her like a blanket. She felt herself relaxing instantly, her body following his simple command without protest.

“Good girl,” the voice whispered, and then sleep took her fully.

The next time Cassandra woke, the warmth of the sheets cocooned her, and her body felt more rested than it had in years. Her mind still fuzzy with the remnants of a dream—a very vivid, steamy dream of a bare-chested, honey-eyed man carrying her to bed and whispering sweet nothings in her ear—she groaned and rolled over.

Reaching for her phone on the nightstand, she saw that it was only six a.m. She had a few hours before her shift, but there was something more pressing on her mind. Alpha.

If he had healed enough, she would take him back to the woods and let him go. As much as she had grown attached to the giant wolf, he belonged in the wild, not in her home.

After a quick shower, she threw on a pair of leggings and a shirt, and dashed downstairs to check on him.

“Alpha?” she called softly, her voice echoing in the living room. But there was no sign of him. The blanket and pillow fort she had made the night before lay undisturbed, but the wolf was gone. A pang of sadness struck her chest, and she quickly searched the entire house, calling his name. No response.

When she headed back downstairs, she noticed the sliding door was ajar, just wide enough for a large wolf to slip through.

Cassandra stepped out onto the deck and scanned the empty yard, but there was no sign of him. Alpha had returned to the wild. The thought left her feeling more melancholy than she had expected.

Maybe I need a pet, she thought, a sigh escaping her lips as she locked the door behind her.

With a shake of her head she headed upstairs to get ready for work. Heading downstairs now dressed in a dark grey blouse and a pair of slacks her thick black heels tapping on her hardwood floor as she made her way to the door grabbing her leather jacket, her bag, and her helmet, ready to start the day.

As she made her way to her Yamaha YZF-R6, she smiled softly to herself. The bike—her bike—had been the first big purchase she made after being promoted to detective. It was sleek, powerful, and had a personality of its own.

The soft glow of the early morning light bathed the streets in a cool, pale hue as Cassandra approached her Yamaha. The matte black frame and chrome accents gleamed faintly under the morning light, the body’s sharp lines gleaming as if in anticipation. The aggressive stance of the bike, sleek and aerodynamic, spoke of speed and precision.

She swung one leg over the saddle, settling into the firm yet comfortable seat, and slid the key into the ignition. With a twist, the engine roared to life—a smooth hum that vibrated through her body, almost like the motorcycle was a part of her. A small smile tugged at her lips as the R6 responded to her touch, the bike alive beneath her as she twisted the throttle, coaxing a growl from the engine.

Cassandra shifted into gear and eased the bike forward, the city stretching out before her like a canvas, and for a moment, she felt the freedom of the road as her own.