Claimed by My Alpha Step Brother

chapter 12. phyna POV

The careful version of us lasted less than a day.

I tried. I really did. At breakfast I kept my distance, focusing on my plate, answering my mother’s questions with short, polite replies. At school I took different routes between classes and avoided lingering near Tristan’s locker. I told myself that if we were smart enough, we could keep this quiet a little longer. That the kisses, the late-night conversations, and the way my heart raced every time he looked at me could stay safely behind closed doors.

But the bond didn’t care about careful.

And neither did Tristan.

I felt him before I saw him in the hallway after second period. The familiar pull tightened under my ribs a second before he appeared at my side, matching my pace like it was the most natural thing in the world. His scent wrapped around me, warm and steady, and my wolf immediately settled in a way that both comforted and terrified me.

“You’re doing it again,” he said under his breath.

“Doing what?”

“Trying to disappear.”

I kept my eyes forward. Students filled the corridor around us—too many voices, too many eyes. “I’m being smart.”

“You’re being scared.” His voice was low, meant only for me. “I can feel it through the bond. You’re wound so tight it’s making my wolf restless.”

Of course he could feel it. The mate bond had stopped being subtle days ago. It carried everything now—my fear, my longing, the constant ache of wanting him and dreading what wanting him would cost. There was nowhere left to hide from him, not even inside my own head.

“Lila is watching,” I murmured.

“Let her.”

“Tristan—”

He didn’t touch me. He didn’t even look at me directly. But the quiet authority in his tone made my stomach flip. “I’m not going to pretend you’re invisible just to make her comfortable. Walk with me to class.”

It wasn’t a request.

I walked with him.

The stares followed us the entire way. I kept my expression blank and my shoulders tight, hyperaware of every whisper that rose behind us. Some were curious. Some were sharp. A few carried the kind of jealousy that made my skin prickle. When we reached my classroom, Tristan finally glanced down at me. Something fierce and soft mixed in his eyes.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” he said.

Then he left before I could argue.

Lunch was worse.

I had planned to hide in the library again. Instead, Tristan was already waiting near the entrance when I arrived, tray in hand, expression calm and unreadable. He didn’t give me the chance to invent an excuse. He simply nodded toward a table near the back—not the center of the courtyard, but not hidden either—and started walking.

I followed because the alternative was making a scene.

We sat across from each other. Close enough that our knees almost touched under the table. Far enough that no one could accuse us of anything obvious. Still, the air between us felt charged. Every time our eyes met, the memory of the night before surged back—his hands on my waist, my back against the wall, the way he had kissed me like he was starving. I could still feel the ghost of that kiss on my lips.

I picked at my food without tasting it.

“You’re quiet,” Tristan said.

“People are staring.”

“I know.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, voice dropping. “The only thing that bothers me is watching you shrink every time someone looks in our direction. You’re my mate, Phyna. I’m done acting like that’s something I need to hide from the entire school.”

My pulse jumped. “You’re going to get us caught.”

“Maybe.” His gaze held mine, steady and unflinching. “Or maybe they’ll get used to seeing us together and stop caring.”

I wanted to believe that. I wanted it so badly it hurt. But I had lived long enough as the outsider Beta to know how packs worked. Attention like this never faded quietly. It turned sharp. It turned cruel. And I was the easiest target.

Lila made sure of it before the period ended.

She stopped by our table with two of her friends, smiling like she had just found something entertaining. Her eyes moved between Tristan and me with open calculation, lingering a little too long on the small space between our hands.

“Cozy,” she said. “Didn’t realize stepsiblings had lunch dates now.”

Tristan’s expression didn’t change, but the temperature around the table seemed to drop. The Alpha in him rose just beneath the surface. “Is there something you need, Lila?”

“Just saying hello.” Her smile widened, sweet and poisonous. “People are talking, you know. About how close you two have gotten. Some of them are starting to wonder if there’s more to the new girl than just a family connection.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. My fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

Tristan leaned back in his chair, slow and deliberate. The gold flickered in his eyes for a fraction of a second—too fast for most people to notice, but I saw it. So did Lila.

“People should mind their own business,” he said evenly. “And you should remember who you’re speaking to.”

The warning landed. Lila’s smile faltered. She recovered quickly, but the edge of uncertainty was there now, thin and sharp.

“Of course,” she said. “Just friendly concern.”

She walked away with her friends, but the damage was done. Several students nearby had heard every word. The whispers started before she even left the courtyard, spreading like smoke.

I stood up so fast my chair scraped against the ground. “I need air.”

Tristan rose with me. “Phyna—”

“Not here.”

I left the tray and walked. He followed without another word. We didn’t speak until we were behind the school building again, in the same quiet stretch of wall where he had pulled me days earlier. The second we were out of sight, the careful mask I had been wearing cracked wide open.

“She’s going to keep pushing,” I said, voice shaking. “She’s going to dig until she finds something she can use. And when she does—”

Tristan stepped in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head to meet his eyes. “Then let her dig. She won’t find anything we’re not ready to face.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” The words came out sharper than I intended. “You’re the future Alpha. I’m the Beta no one wanted here in the first place. If this blows up, you get a lecture from your father. I get destroyed. Socially. Pack-wise. Everything.”

His expression tightened. For a moment he looked almost angry—not at me, but at the truth in what I had said. He lifted both hands and cupped my face, forcing me to look at him. His palms were warm. Steady.

“I will not let that happen,” he said. “Do you hear me? I don’t care what Lila says. I don’t care what the pack thinks. You are mine. And I protect what’s mine.”

The possession in his voice should have scared me. Instead, it settled something restless inside my chest. The bond flared warm and fierce between us, answering him like it had been waiting for those words.

I closed my eyes. “I’m falling so hard it terrifies me.”

“Good,” he murmured. “Fall. I’ll catch you.”

He kissed me then—right there behind the school, where anyone could have walked around the corner. It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t soft. It was hungry and claiming and full of every frustrated, protective, desperate feeling we had been carrying for days. I grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him back just as hard, letting the fear burn away for a few stolen seconds. His hands slid from my face to my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing unevenly. Tristan rested his forehead against mine. His eyes were pure gold.

“Tonight,” he said. “After everyone is asleep. Come to my room.”

My heart stumbled. “Tristan—”

“Just to talk. Just to be near you without an audience.” His thumb brushed my lower lip, lingering. “I need more than five minutes behind a building, Phyna. I need you.”

The honesty in those last two words undid me completely.

I nodded.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of racing thoughts and careful distance. I barely heard anything in my afternoon classes. My body still felt the shape of his hands on my face. My lips still tingled. Every time the bond pulsed, I had to dig my nails into my palms to stay focused.

At home, dinner was ordinary on the surface. My mother asked about school. Tristan’s father talked about a border issue with a neighboring pack. Tristan and I sat across from each other and pretended the air between us wasn’t charged with everything we weren’t saying. Every time our eyes met, the bond pulled tighter, warm and insistent.

I waited until the house went quiet.

Until the last light under my parents’ door disappeared.

Until the only sound left was the low hum of the refrigerator downstairs and the distant settling of the house.

Then I left my room and walked the short distance down the hallway.

Tristan’s door opened before I even knocked, as if he had been standing there waiting. He stepped aside to let me in and closed the door softly behind me. The click of the lock felt final—and somehow like the first real breath I had taken all day.

For a moment we just looked at each other in the dim light of his room. The space smelled like him—clean soap, faint cologne, and the deeper, warmer scent of his wolf. My own wolf rose in answer, restless and needy.

Then he reached for me.

There was no hesitation this time. His mouth found mine, and the world narrowed to the heat of his hands, the strength of his body, the overwhelming rightness of the bond finally being allowed to breathe. He walked me backward until the backs of my knees hit the edge of his bed. We went down together, still kissing, still trying to get closer. His weight settled over me, careful but possessive, and a soft sound escaped my throat before I could stop it.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were pure gold. His breathing was uneven.

“I’m not asking for everything tonight,” he said, voice rough. “But I need you to stop looking at me like you’re already preparing to lose me.”

I touched his face, tracing the line of his cheekbone with my fingertips. “I’m scared of how much I don’t want to lose you.”

Something soft and fierce moved through his expression. He leaned down and kissed me again, slower this time, deeper, like he was trying to memorize the shape of my mouth.

“Then don’t,” he whispered against my lips. “Stay.”

Outside his room, the house remained silent and unaware.

Inside it, the secret we were keeping grew heavier—and somehow, for the first time, it also felt like something worth carrying.