HIS: Reclaimed By The Alpha

Chapter Four

A woman’s face, tender and familiar yet indistinct, held hers gently in the chaos. “Don’t be afraid,” the woman whispered, her voice soft but urgent, “This way, I will always be with you.”

And then the woman walked away to the altar a motherly tenderness on her face.

She was helped by some figures to lie on the altar like a sacrifice then the flames

. The fire roared higher, the crowd around it swelling in shadowed shapes, their chanting growing louder, harsher, almost suffocating.

Malekini struggled, trying to reach the woman, her own hands grasping at the smoke and heat. Her vision blurred, heart hammering violently, and she felt herself falling even as the fire consumed everything in her dream.

A cold sweat coated her skin. She gasped, eyes snapping open. Her heartbeat was wild, the nightmare refusing to let go.

She moved out of strong warmth of Darven’s chest, the steady beat of her terrified heart beneath crowded her ears grounding her, yet the memory of fire and chanting clung to her mind like smoke.

Tears slid down her cheeks before she could stop them. loud, uncontrollable

“Malekini!!?” Darven got up in a fright his voice was immediate, low, almost strained with alarm.

He shifted, wrapping his arm tighter around her shoulders, pulling her closer as his eyes searched her face. “Hey… hey, look at me. It’s okay. It’s just a dream. I’m here.” trying to steady her

She trembled, burying her face against his neck, inhaling the reassuring scent of him. “I… I can’t… I can’t stop seeing it… the woman… the fire…” Her voice broke.

Darven’s hands held her firmly, gentle yet unyielding, as though he could physically shield her from the memory. “I’ve got you. Always. You’re safe here with me. No one can hurt you—not in this room, not anywhere.”

Malekini shook her head slightly, still sobbing softly. “I don’t even know who she is… why… why am I seeing her?”

“Hey…” Darwin’s fingers brushed her hair back from her face, tracing the curve of her jaw with careful tenderness.

“You don’t have to explain yet. Not until you’re ready. Just breathe… breathe for me. I won’t leave your side.”

Minutes passed. Her breathing slowed. The tears subsided into quiet sniffles, and at last, she lifted her head slightly. Darven’s eyes softened, the fierce tension in his jaw giving way to relief.

“You’re okay now?” he whispered, voice low and intimate.

“I… I think so,” she murmured, still trembling. “It’s… it’s just… it keeps happening. The fire… the chanting. I don’t know what it means.”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” Darven said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I promise. I’ll be with you through it all. Nothing can touch you.”

Malekini nodded slowly, leaning into his warmth. A quiet, protective silence settled over them, the world outside their room fading.

She fell asleep again.

---

Morning light crept into the room. Malekini blinked awake, the dream still lingering in the edges of her mind.

The room smelled faintly of the subtle scent of Darven’s cologne, comforting yet intoxicating.

She stretched lightly, then realized she was wearing one of his oversized shirts, the fabric loose around her small frame.

The sleeves hung past her wrists, the collar dipping just enough to brush her shoulders.

She quietly rose from the bed, careful not to disturb Darven, who was already up and moving about.

The sound of weights clinking and the low hum of exertion reached her from the gym adjoining the main room.

Darven was fully focused, his muscles flexing, commanding attention even in quiet solitude. Malekini paused, admiring him silently, noting the sharp lines of his jaw, the tense grace of his movements. A warmth fluttered in her chest. Then she returned to the room

Her gaze wandered around the room, lingering on artifacts, trinkets, and relics lining the shelves.

She reached out to touch one—a carved statuette of a wolf mid-leap—and smiled faintly, marveling at the craftsmanship.

,Then, her eyes fell upon a painting, an image of the palace she had been attempting to recreate for her school’s art competition. Her breath caught.

It was perfect. Every detail matched her vision—she could feel the artist’s mastery emanating from the canvas. She knew this painting. Alaris Moon. One of the oldest, most legendary magicians in the kingdom had created it. The realization made her stomach flutter.

“Oh my… it’s… incredible,” she whispered, stepping closer.

Darven’s voice came from behind her, low and teasing. “Morning, mi hermosa.”

Malekini startled, turning. “Darven...You… you were in here?” she stammered, cheeks flushing.

He stepped closer, the air between them charged, yet his expression softened with amusement.

“I couldn’t resist seeing you this morning. You look… perfect.” His gaze lingered, admiring her. “And I see you’ve discovered my little treasures.”

She laughed softly, though her heart fluttered. “Yes… your… your collection is amazing. But this… this painting… it’s beyond anything I’ve ever seen.”

“It is,” Darwin agreed, walking closer. His hand brushed hers lightly as he gestured toward the painting.

“Alaris Moon created it centuries ago. The technique, the magic in the strokes… it’s extraordinary. And… you can have it, if you wish.”

Her eyes widened. “Really!?I… I would love that… thank you.”

He stepped even closer, brushing her hair back and planting a soft kiss on her temple.

She shivered at the touch, the intimacy of the morning and the closeness of his body sending her heart racing. “You’re beautiful this morning,” he murmured. “Absolutely beautiful.”

Malekini smiled, feeling her cheeks warm. “Thank you… Darven.”

He leaned even closer, his lips brushing the side of her neck. She giggled softly, trying to suppress the rising heat of her face.

He kissed gently, savoring the reactions his touches elicited, while Malekini’s fingers trembled slightly as she reached for his arm, both drawn to and confused by the intensity of her emotions.

“I...I have to go soon,” she reminded, trying to ground the moment.

Darwin sighed softly, the faintest shadow of regret in his eyes. “Yes… I’ll have someone drop you off with the painting.” he said reluctantly pulling away.

She nodded, understanding yet flustered. He stepped back, giving her just enough space to breathe, though the warmth of his presence lingered.

---

The morning sunlight barely filtered through the tall windows of Draven’s private study when the soft, yet authoritative knock echoed against the oak door.

His parents had arrived earlier than expected, their presence filling the space with the weight of tradition and expectation. Draven straightened instinctively, though his thoughts were miles away.

Lucian Veyra’s gaze swept over him, analytical, commanding. “We heard about the incident last night,” he began, voice even but edged with concern. “Explain the situation.”

Draven exhaled slowly, memories of the night flooding back—the rustle of leaves, Malekini’s frantic movements, the sharp sting of the arrows, the tremor in her voice, the heat of her fear that had seared itself into his chest.

Carefully, he recounted the battle, avoiding any mention of her identity or the fact she had spent the night under his roof. “The threat was neutralized,”

he said plainly, voice steady, though his chest ached with a weight he could not share.

Selara Veyra’s eyes softened momentarily, but she remained silent, observing.

Draven’s mind drifted to the council room, to that precise moment when decisions had been made about alliances, mates, and obligations.

He remembered clearly the girl he now found himself thinking of in ways that made his chest tighten—the one who belonged, by duty and blood, to his brother. Guilt clawed at him, sharp and merciless.

He had always feared losing what was rightfully his.

Not possessions, not titles, not even victories, but the intangible fragments of himself that could never be replaced once taken.

He remembered vividly the echoes of past loss, the way something precious had been ripped from him without warning, without reason, leaving a hollow ache that never truly healed.

And now, knowing the girl he wanted most was meant for his brother, he felt the weight of repeating that betrayal. His jaw tightened. He would not take from Kaylen what could never be returned.

“I understand,” Lucian said finally, drawing Draven from his thoughts. “Your caution is noted. Good work handling it.”

The Alpha nodded, bowing his head slightly. His voice held calm, but inside, a storm raged.

Vulnerable. Weak. Conflicted. And he made a silent decision; he would distance himself from Malekini, suppress any desire, any temptation, before it could grow and wreak havoc on what was meant to be.

By the time he left the study, the sun had climbed higher, casting long shadows through the hallways.

At school, Malekini moved carefully, carrying her painting every brushstroke from last night still vivid in her mind. She passed the familiar corridors, careful to avoid prying eyes, yet feeling a nervous tension she could not shake.

Kaelen, standing at his locker, caught sight of her. The faint flicker of surprise and something darker—a trace of jealousy—crossed his normally composed face.

“Malekini,” he said, voice low but carrying enough weight to make her pulse spike."Are you ok?"he inquired “Where were you last night?”

Her throat tightened. “I… Im ok

"was at… a friend’s place..” She forced a small, convincing smile, but the heat creeping up her neck betrayed her.

Kaelen’s eyes lingered on her, suspicious yet restrained.

“ofcourse ,” he murmured, turning away , leaving her with a swirl of unspoken emotion.

From the corner of her vision, she saw Loki whispering to Vivienne, who sneered subtly in her direction.

Malekini straightened her spine, holding her gaze forward as she continued toward her classroom, focusing on the painting cradled carefully in her hands.

Each brushstroke at her desk seemed to carry the heat and fear of last night, the protective embrace of Draven lingering in her mind.

She painted with fervor, every line, color, and shadow a whisper of the night’s chaos and warmth. The palace image shimmered as if alive, subtly infused with a magic she could not explain.

Kaelen lingered near the back of the classroom, watching her work, the line between pride and possessive envy tightening across his features.

He could feel it—every trembling hand, every careful stroke—and the memory of Draven holding her, whispering comfort, gnawed at him. His own chest constricted as he realized the quiet depth of his feelings, conflicted by loyalty, love, and the unspoken bond between his brother and the girl meant for him.

By mid-afternoon, Malekini stepped back, surveying her completed painting. It was flawless.

The palace glowed with an otherworldly perfection, as if the walls themselves whispered secrets only she could hear.

She had achieved something remarkable, yet the emotions tied to her night with Draven—and the knowledge of Kaelen’s gaze—made her pulse race and thoughts tangle.

Loki and Vivienne approached, their presence sharp and deliberate. “Well, well… look at this,” Vivienne’s voice dripped with mockery. “Didn’t think you could actually finish it.”

Malekini’s lips curved faintly, eyes steady, unyielding. “It’s finished. That’s all that matters,” she replied, her tone calm yet assertive.

Loki leaned closer, eyes glinting with mischief and challenge. “Don’t think this makes you better than anyone else. You still have a lot to prove.”

Her jaw tightened. She would not falter. She had survived last night, survived fear, and transformed that raw energy into her art. Her gaze met theirs, unwavering and resolute. “We’ll see,” she said, soft but heavy with conviction.

Walking home later, her mind replayed every glance, every whispered word.

Her fingers lingered on the painting, her mind torn between loyalty, desire, and the enigmatic pull of those who watched her world with unseen intent. And as the sun dipped lower, a quiet thought settled in her mind—tonight, nothing would be simple.