The Alpha's Forgotten Sister

The door flew open with a bang. “Lyra?” Darien’s voice was sharp, his eyes scanned the room until they were fixed on her, worried She turned from the window, feigning innocence. “You came quickly,” He froze mid-step, narrowing his eyes. “You said it was urgent. Are you okay?” “It was,” she said, tilting her head, lips curving. “I wanted to see if the mighty Alpha King still comes running when I call.” He exhaled through his nose, half a laugh, half a growl. “You’re impossible. And stop calling me that…” “You’re late, My alpha king” she teased. “You called me in the middle of the night just to—” “—test a theory,” she interrupted. He raised a brow, his amusement clear. “A theory?” “That you come whenever I call,” she whispered stepping toward him. “And that when you’re near, the pain goes away.” That made him pause his expression softening. “Lyra…” “I’m okay,” she said quickly, smiling as if to deflect the tenderness. “But I could make use of your… magic hands, if you insist.” He blinked, half amused, half caught off guard. “Magic hands?” Lyra tilted her head, looking at him with at smile. He stepped closer without thinking, and the air between them shifted... “God, Lyra. One of these days you’re gonna drive me crazy,” he growled still smiling. She smirked liking how rough his voice was. For her... He shook his head as if he had given up on winning against her. “Now about those hands…” she whispered her fingers trailing up his arms ever so slowly. She enjoyed watching his pupils darken as he drew a deep breath. “The thing you do,” she continued, her voice dropping, and her gaze flickering to his lips before darting back up. His hands flexed slightly at his side, as though resisting the instinct to reach for her. His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed, gaze locked on her, like restraint itself had left him unbearably thirsty. Even while fighting for control the man was pure temptation. “That’s not magic, sweetheart. That’s all me…” he murmured. “Oh, really?” For a moment, he didn’t answer. The silence stretched. His breath brushed her temple and she felt her heartbeat stumble. “Would you like to try it again?” he finally said, voice low enough that only she could hear. Lyra’s lips parted in a soundless breath. As her body reacted to his husky voice. This-whatever this was-was dangerous, but her feet refused to move. “I should probably thank you,” she said, forcing a teasing tilt back into her tone, “for being at my beck and call.” “My pleasure, baby,” he agreed softly, eyes locked on hers. Only her. No one else. He wasn’t smiling now. Something deep and primal was hanging between them in the air. Her throat tightened. “You didn’t have to come so fast, you know.” “Yes, I did.” The answer came fast and certain. She looked away first, pretending to study the curtains, pretending not to be affected by his answer. “You make it sound like you had no choice.” “Maybe I didn’t.” Her laughter came out thinner than she intended. “You really should work on your self-control, Alpha.” He leaned in just enough for his next breath to ghost against her neck. “You really shouldn’t test it, Lyra.” The knock at the door shattered the charged stillness like breaking glass. “Lyra? Are you awake?” Killian’s voice carried through the door, tight with concern. Her stomach dropped. “Oh no.” “What?” he asked, still half-dazed from their closeness. “My brothers,” she whispered. “If they find you here—” He straightened a little, glancing around the small room. “You want me to hide?” “Yes!” she hissed. “Do you have a death wish?” He looked at the low bed, the narrow wardrobe, then back at her. “Lyra, I’m six-four. Unless you want me to become part of the furniture, there’s nowhere for me to fit.” Another knock-louder this time. “LYRA!” She shoved at his chest anyway. “Then try! My brothers are gonna kill you!” He stayed rooted, only moving when she pushd again, his hand slipping down her wais at an agonizingly slow pace. “If this is how I die,” he murmured, voice barely above a breath, “I wouldn’t mind.” Her heart leapt painfully. “That’s not funny.” “Didn’t mean it to be.” He bent slightly, close enough that she caught the faint scent of cedar and storm. “You smell like rain,” he added quietly, almost to himself. “Please,” she whispered, torn between panic and the warmth curling in her chest. As if he’d been waiting for her to say please, he smiled and vanished, his voice lingering in the air. "As you wish, My Princess."