The First Warrior Wolf

*Chapter 7: Birthday Regret*

_Alex POV_

The Mustang’s engine cut off in the pack house garage.

_“Get your mate.”_

Lysander’s mind link had been ice. No _brother_. No _please_. Just three words.

I was already waiting by the service door when he killed the lights. He got out slow, walked around the hood, and leaned against the driver’s side. Blocking her.

“If you ever make her cry on her birthday again,” he said, voice quiet, “I don’t care if you’re Alpha or her mate. I’ll put you down myself.”

It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. Alaric didn’t snarl back. He whimpered.

Lysander jerked his chin at the passenger seat. “Take her. And if Helen were here, she’d have run you through for what you did tonight.”

He stepped aside.

And there she was.

Asleep, curled on her side. Bottle-green dress riding up her thighs. Messy bun falling apart. A smear of chocolate frosting on her cheek. New dagger strapped to her thigh, hilt digging into the leather.

_It’s her birthday._

I didn’t know. I ruined her birthday.

Alaric went dead silent. That’s how I knew he was gutted too.

I opened the door and slid my arms under her. She weighed nothing. She sighed in her sleep and nuzzled into my bare chest — I’d torn my shirt off hours ago searching the forest, and scrubbed Jennifer’s scent off me in a cold shower the second I got back. I wasn’t bringing that into bed with my mate.

_Her heart trusts me. Even if she doesn’t._

The words burned all the way up the back stairs. Rose stood at the top, arms crossed. Jessy was behind her, blocking the hall to our wing. They didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. The message was clear: _you don’t deserve her._

I carried Allison past them into our room.

Mom had changed the sheets. No Jennifer. Just malva pudding, butterscotch, and birthday cake hanging in the air. And me — clean, no perfume but soap and shame.

I stood by the bed, holding her. I didn’t want to let go. This was the first time since the bond snapped into place that she wasn’t fighting me. Wasn’t running. Wasn’t looking at me like I was Culim.

But I couldn’t keep her. Not like this. Not when I hadn’t earned it.

I laid her down gently. She made a small sound of protest, her fingers fisting in my chest hair before going limp. I had to peel them off one by one.

I pulled the blanket up to her chin. Her wrist was bare, skin unmarked. Of course. She’d healed from Culim’s grip hours ago. Wolves didn’t bruise easy. But I remembered how she’d flinched during the dance. How her hand had been red when he handed her to me.

Rage hit so hard Alaric surged forward. _‘Strike one was Jennifer. Strike two will be him.’_

I stepped back. Grabbed the throw off the couch and lay down, as far from the bed as I could get. I wouldn’t touch her. Not until she asked. Not until I deserved it.

_“Happy birthday, mate,”_ I whispered to the dark. _“I’m sorry.”_

I don’t know how long I lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to her breath. Then it changed.

A small whimper. Then another. Then, _“No… please… don’t…”_

The temperature in the room dropped.

I sat up. The air went thick. Heavy. Suffocating. Like something invisible had its hands around my throat, squeezing.

Allison thrashed in the blankets, tears slipping down her cheeks even asleep. _“Helen… don’t leave me… Culim, stop…”_

And that aura — goddess, that aura — rolled off her in waves. Cold. Crushing. _Wrong_. Not Alpha. Not Luna. Something that made every instinct I had scream _danger_ and _run_.

Alaric slammed against my skull. _‘MATE HURTING. COMFORT MATE. NOW.’_

I staggered to my feet. Each step toward the bed felt like wading through concrete. My lungs burned. My vision tunneled. The pressure was trying to keep me away from her.

_What the hell are you?_ I thought, but I kept moving.

Three steps. The aura pushed back, violent. I gritted my teeth and shoved through it with an Alpha growl. _‘Mine.’_

The second my knee hit the mattress, it cracked. The suffocating weight shattered like glass.

She was just a girl again. Shaking. Crying. Calling for a dead cousin and begging her stepfather to stop.

I slid onto the bed and pulled her against my chest. “Shh, Allycat, I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

She stilled instantly. Sighed. Burrowed closer, cheek against my heart. Her leg hitched over mine. One arm slid around my waist like she’d done it a hundred times.

I froze. Then I breathed.

Whatever that was — that power, that _thing_ — it wasn’t her. Not really. This was. The girl who fit against me like she was made for it.

I couldn’t move. Wouldn’t. If this was the only time I got to hold her without her hating me, I’d take it.

I don’t remember falling asleep. Just the scent of her hair, the feel of her finally, _finally_, not running, and Alaric’s growl in my chest: _‘Ours. Dangerous. Protect.’_