Shadows of Doubt (Alexa’s POV)
1046 Words
(Shadows of Doubt)
(Alexa’s POV)
“You’re really going to stand there and pretend last night didn’t happen?”
The words flew out before I could cage them—sharp, sleep-rough, still tasting like salt from the tears I’d cried into his chest until dawn.
Zyrus froze mid-step in the arched doorway of our private dining chamber, broad back to me, one hand already on the iron handle. Morning light sliced through the high windows and caught the fresh bite mark on my shoulder—his mark—still raised and angry-red beneath the thin strap of my shift.
He didn’t turn.
But his knuckles whitened on the latch.
“Last night happened,” he said, voice gravel dragged over steel. “And it changes nothing.”
My stomach twisted so hard I almost doubled over.
I shoved the chair back—loud scrape against stone—and stood. Bare feet silent on the cold floor as I closed the distance.
“Nothing?” The word cracked like thin ice. “You f****d me like I was air you needed to breathe, Zyrus. You held me after like I was the only thing keeping your heart beating. And now it changes nothing?”
He finally faced me.
Those storm-gray eyes were bloodshot—had he slept at all? Probably not. The shadows under them looked carved with a knife.
“What do you want me to say, Alexa?” His tone was dangerously quiet. “That I’m sorry? That I regret touching you? Because I don’t. I never will. But touching you doesn’t erase the curse. It doesn’t make the elders less hungry for your blood. It doesn’t make Margaux disappear.”
I laughed—short, bitter, ugly. “You think this is about Margaux?”
His jaw ticked. “Isn’t it always?”
“No.” I stepped closer. Close enough to feel the furnace heat rolling off him. “This is about you treating me like a bomb you’re terrified to detonate. You give me pieces—your body, your teeth, your growls—and then you snatch the rest back like I’m too stupid to handle the truth.”
He exhaled through his nose. Sharp. Controlled.
“You want truth?” he asked softly. Too softly. “Fine.”
He reached out—slow, deliberate—and caught my chin between thumb and forefinger. Tilted my face up.
“I wake up every morning counting the seconds until I can touch you again. I dream about burying myself so deep inside you that you forget your own name. I want to chain you to this bed and never let another soul look at you. That’s the truth.”
My breath hitched.
“But if I let myself love you the way I want to—the way every cell in my body is screaming to—you die.” His thumb brushed my lower lip. “And I’d rather carve my own heart out with a dull blade than watch that happen.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
“Then stop half-loving me,” I whispered. “It’s worse than nothing.”
Something fractured in his expression—quick, violent, gone in a blink.
He released me like I burned him. Stepped back.
“I can’t give you more than this,” he said. Flat. Final. “Not yet.”
I wrapped my arms around myself. “Then why keep me at all?”
“Because letting you go would kill me faster than any curse ever could.”
The confession hung there—naked, bleeding.
Before I could answer, the heavy oak doors at the far end of the hall burst open.
A young warrior—Kael, one of Zyrus’s most trusted shadow-guards—strode in without preamble. His face was pale, eyes wild.
“My Alpha. Luna.” He dropped to one knee, fist over heart. “Forgive the intrusion. But you need to hear this now.”
Zyrus’s entire demeanor shifted—predator snapping to attention.
“Speak.”
Kael’s gaze flicked to me—hesitant—then back to his Alpha.
“There are whispers spreading through the lower halls. Servants. Guards. Even some of the lesser betas. They say…” He swallowed. “They say the Luna’s child isn’t yours. That Margaux carries the true heir. That Alexa was… chosen for politics, not fate. That her pregnancy is a convenient lie to secure her position until Margaux’s babe is born.”
Ice flooded my veins.
Zyrus went lethal-still.
“Who started it?” he asked. Voice so calm it terrified me.
Kael’s throat worked. “The rumors bear Margaux’s signature. Subtle. Poisonous. She’s been seen speaking quietly with the kitchen staff, the laundry maids. Dropping just enough truth mixed with venom.”
I felt the floor tilt.
“She’s trying to erase me,” I breathed. “Before I even get the chance to stand.”
Zyrus’s hand shot out—caught my wrist. Not hard. Possessive. Anchoring.
“She will not touch what’s mine,” he said. Low. Lethal. “Not again.”
Kael cleared his throat. “There’s more, Alpha. I… followed one of her messengers last night. He met with three wolves from the Blackthorn pack—elders who’ve never sworn true fealty to you. They spoke of ‘containing the White threat’ before the eighth moon. They mentioned a name.” He hesitated. “Veyra.”
Zyrus’s grip on my wrist tightened fractionally.
Veyra.
The ancient seer who’d allegedly helped craft the original curse centuries ago. The one rumor said still lived—hidden, watching.
My pulse hammered against his fingers.
“They’re plotting with her,” I said. Not a question.
Kael nodded once. “It appears so.”
Zyrus released me—slowly, like letting go cost him physically.
“Summon the council,” he ordered Kael. “All of them.Now. And double the guard on every entrance to these chambers. No one in or out without my word.”
Kael rose. Bowed. Vanished.
The doors thudded shut.
Silence rang.
I stared at Zyrus’s profile—jaw locked, eyes fixed on some middle distance only he could see.
“You knew,” I said quietly. “You knew they were circling.”
- Writer
