Chapter 10 – April's POV
1557 Words
The sharp scent of antiseptic tickled my nose before my eyes even opened. Clean linen. Faint herbal balm. And... cinnamon.
Warm. Spicy. Addictive.
My heart fluttered, a strange pull in my chest tightening as the scent deepened in my lungs. My lashes fluttered open slowly, the harsh white light of the infirmary blurring into the tall frame of a man leaning against the doorframe.
Jasper.
I didn’t know his name. Not truly. But something in me did. My heart recognized him before my mind could catch up.
He was standing there, arms crossed over his broad chest, the rich muscle beneath his black shirt stretching deliciously with the movement. Dark, tousled hair framed a face too beautiful to be real—sharp jawline, strong nose, lips that looked like sin carved into flesh. His eyes, a molten mix of gold and ash, locked on me the second I stirred.
Ari stirred too, surging to the front of my mind like a wave crashing over a cliff.
“Mate.”
Her voice was a whisper, a growl, and a sob all at once. “That’s him. That’s our mate. He came back.”
But I didn’t remember him.
I wanted to.
I wanted to bury my face in that cinnamon-drenched scent and let it consume me. I wanted to trace the veins on his forearms, let his calloused fingers slide across my bare skin, and drown in the heat of those molten eyes.
Gods, he was sexy.
Alpha. Dangerous. Possessive.
Mine?
I sat up too fast, wincing at the ache in my ribs. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing, then he pushed off the wall with that powerful grace only men like him had. He was across the room in three strides, his scent surrounding me like a cloak.
“Easy,” he murmured, voice low and rough, like gravel wrapped in velvet. “You’re safe now, April.”
My name sounded different from his lips. Reverent. Sacred.
I blinked, trying to focus. “You... you’re the man from earlier…”
He nodded once. “Jasper Black. Alpha of the Black Claw Pack.”
My breath hitched.
Alpha.
That explained the power rolling off him in waves, like a thunderstorm in human skin. And that scent. Cinnamon, pine, and something darker underneath. Something that made my wolf whimper and my thighs press together.
He crouched beside the bed, his eyes softer now, though his jaw was still tight.
“We’re leaving,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face like it was something precious. “You’re coming with us.”
“Leaving?” I echoed, heart thudding.
“You’re not staying in this pack another damn night.” His voice hardened. “Not after what they did to you. Pack your things. Whatever you own—we’re leaving in ten.”
My mouth opened. Then closed. I should’ve asked questions—why, how, where—but none of it mattered. Not when his touch lingered on my skin. Not when Ari howled in joy.
“He’s our mate,” she whispered again. “He found us. He’s not like the rest. He’ll protect us.”
My hands trembled as I pushed the blanket away. My legs were shaky, but I stood anyway. Jasper didn’t move to help me, but I could feel his eyes following every inch of me—watching, waiting, ready to catch me if I so much as stumbled.
“Why... why are you helping me?” I asked, pausing at the edge of the bed.
His gaze held mine, fierce and unrelenting. “Because you’re mine.”
My breath caught.
Because you’re mine.
No one had ever claimed me. Not like that. Not without cruelty in their eyes.
But Jasper’s eyes held only fury—for what had been done to me—and something deeper. Something that burned.
“I’ll get my things,” I whispered.
He nodded once. “Im coming with you, so those mutts don't touch you again. Marcus is packing now.”
I hesitated. “Jasper?”
He turned back at the door, looking every bit the predator and the protector in one breathless image.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
For seeing me.
For coming.
His smile didn’t reach his eyes, but it was beautiful anyway.
“Let’s go home, Rosebud.”
My heart stumbled again. That name. That damn name.
Why did it make my chest ache?
But I didn’t ask.
The antiseptic scent of the infirmary faded as we stepped into the corridor, and my chest tightened with every footstep closer to my old quarters. My muscles ached, not just from the lingering bruises but from the weight of years spent shrinking into corners. But this time, I didn’t walk alone.
Jasper was beside me, his hand ghosting just behind mine, close enough to feel the heat, far enough to give me space. A presence like gravity—pulling, protective, potent.
I stole another glance at him. Gods, he was lethal.
Midnight-black hair fell in soft waves around his face, jaw set like carved stone. His sharp cheekbones, stubbled jawline, and those eyes—storm-grey with a ring of gold near the pupil—looked like they’d seen war and hadn’t flinched. And that body? Built like he could tear through brick walls, yet he moved like a shadow—silent and fluid.
Ari stirred in my chest, her voice a sultry hum.
“Look at him, April. Ours. Finally. He’s fire, he’s fury, and he’s safe.”
I tried to rein in the heat crawling up my neck. I shouldn’t be thinking about how his broad shoulders strained his shirt, or how his hands looked like they belonged in both a battlefield and a bedroom. But I was. I absolutely was.
We turned a corner, and I froze.
The hallway that led to the servant quarters was narrower, darker. The air here always carried mildew, damp and cold. My door was still crooked on its hinges, and the scratches along the base where someone had once kicked it in were still there.
Jasper tensed. He noticed.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and stepped forward first, pushing the door open. The room was just as I’d left it—a mess of dust, cracked paint, and despair. The mattress on the floor was more springs than cushion. A single warped dresser leaned crookedly against the wall.
Jasper stepped in behind me, silent.
“This is it,” I said, voice thin. “This is where I’ve been sleeping.”
His breath left him in a slow exhale. Not soft. Not gentle. Controlled rage.
“This is a goddamn cage.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
He moved deeper into the room, his fingers trailing along the splintered frame of the bed like he was committing it to memory. Rage crackled off him like electricity, but when he turned back to me, his voice was low. Rough.
“You lived in this?”
“Since I was thirteen.”
His hands fisted at his sides. I could see the war behind his eyes—wanting to demand why, who, *how*, but knowing I wasn’t ready for those questions.
I crossed the room quickly and pulled open the dresser drawers. One held a torn sweater. Another, my cracked comb and the book I read over and over just to escape. That was it.
I bundled it into my arms, embarrassed by how little there was.
Jasper stepped forward, his chest brushing mine, and gently took the bundle from my hands. His warmth lingered on my skin.
“You don’t carry your pain alone anymore, April,” he said, voice like velvet and thunder. “Not while I’m breathing.”
Ari whined low in my head, and I knew she wanted to rub up against him like a cat in heat. Hell, I wanted to.
I looked up at him, really looked. That scar along his neck, the light dusting of freckles over his collarbone just peeking from his shirt’s neckline, the protective fury simmering in his gaze—he wasn’t just my mate. He was mine.
“Thank you,” I whispered, lips barely moving.
He didn’t answer. He turned, bundle in hand, and walked toward the door. But before crossing the threshold, he turned back to look at the room once more.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Burning it into memory,” he said, voice low. “So I remember the exact size of the cage they tried to keep you in.”
Tears pricked at my eyes. I bit down hard to keep them at bay.
“You never belonged here, Rosebud,” he added. “And you’ll never come back.”
Then, like he had every right in the world, he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face and letting his fingers linger at my jaw.
“We’re leaving this behind,” he whispered. “You’re coming *home.*”
My heart didn’t just stutter—it leapt.
I followed him into the hall, leaving behind the scent of mildew, broken dreams, and the girl I used to be.
Because I wasn’t her anymore.
I was April Morningstar.
And I had a mate who would burn the world down to keep me safe.
- Writer
