Claiming My Bestfriend's Alpha Dad

Chapter 10: Midnight Shadows

She leaned in, closing the distance between them, and pressed her lips to his.

Kaelen shattered. His large hands moved possessively up her back, cupping the back of her head to deepen the kiss into something fierce, wild, and utterly consuming. His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting her, claiming her, while Elara tangled her fingers in his wet hair, pulling him closer. They ground against each other in the water, a rhythm of pure, unadulterated desire building between them until they were both breathless.

Kaelen pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against hers as they both panted, catching their breath in the freezing night air. His hands roamed gently over the curve of her waist, holding her securely against his lap.

As her mind began to clear from the fog of passion, a sudden, practical thought crossed Elara’s mind. She looked down at the pale blue bikini top holding her breasts, then up into Kaelen's dark eyes.

"Wait a second..." Elara murmured, narrowing her eyes slightly in suspicion. "How on earth did you know what size swimsuit top to get me?"

Kaelen paused, a distinctly awkward, guilty look flashing across his usually stoic face—a look so rarely seen on the terrifying Alpha that Elara couldn't help but stare.

He cleared his throat softly, looking out over the snowy valley for a second before meeting her gaze. "Well... when you were seventeen, Maya came running into my private study one afternoon, practically in tears."

Elara’s brow furrowed. "Maya? Why?"

"Because," Kaelen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks slightly flushed under his golden skin, "she was panicking because her breasts were developing and yours were 'already a full 32D' and hadn't grown an inch in months. She was complaining to me about girl problems for an hour."

Elara’s eyes widened in absolute horror and embarrassment. "She talked to you about my bra size?!"

"I am her father, Elara.She doesn't have a mother, and her Uncle was useless with that stuff," Kaelen defended himself, a quiet chuckle escaping him. "She came to me with all her girl problems. It made me terribly uncomfortable, believe me, but I had to listen to be a good dad. So... I remembered the number."

"That was six years ago!" Elara gasped.

"I know," Kaelen grinned, his possessive hands giving her hips a small squeeze. "So I sized up three inches, considering you've gotten a bit plumper and far more beautifully curved over the years."

Elara gasped playfully, bringing her hand up and smacking him squarely in his muscular chest. "Are you calling me plumper?!"

"Hey!" Kaelen laughed, catching her hand and kissing her knuckles. "I am not calling you fat, little wolf. I love a woman with a bit of real meat on her bones. You've gained lean muscle in all the right places, and you are utterly breathtaking."

Elara blushed, her heart melting at his words, but before she could respond, Kaelen’s expression suddenly stiffened.

His gray eyes clouded over with a dull, silver sheen—the universal sign of a high-priority, encrypted pack mindlink. His jaw set into a hard, rigid line as he listened to the voice in his head.

After a long moment, the silver sheen faded, and Kaelen let out a heavy, frustrated breath, resting his head back against the stone rim of the tub.

"Marcus," Kaelen growled, disgust clear in his voice. "The Bloodmoon delegates are starting a brawl in the east wing courtyard over a gambling dispute. I have to deal with it personally before someone gets slaughtered."

"It's fine," Elara said softly, starting to shift off his lap. "Duty calls, Alpha."

"No, stay," Kaelen commanded gently, his hand lingering on her hip as he stood up out of the water, water cascading down his sculpted chest. He grabbed a heavy white towel, wrapping it around his waist.

He pointed toward a set of frosted glass double doors on the inner wall of the balcony. "That door connects directly into my private bedchamber. Stay out here and enjoy the tub for as long as you want. When you're done, go inside, take a hot shower, borrow whatever clothes you want from my wardrobe, and wait for me in my bed."

Elara’s heart did a violent flip in her chest. "In your bed?"

"In my bed," Kaelen confirmed, leaning down to press a deep, lingering kiss to her forehead. "I won't be long. Wait for me."

Without waiting for an answer, Kaelen turned and walked through the glass doors into his darkened suite, leaving Elara alone on the quiet, steaming balcony, blushing furiously under the moonlit sky.

The gentle heat of the mineral water and the rhythmic bubbling of the pumps had long since lulled the edge of Elara’s bone-deep exhaustion away. For half an hour, she floated peacefully on her back, watching the dark, star-dusted sky through the spell-forged glass, but as the quiet night stretched on, a soft restlessness settled into her limbs.

Shivering slightly as she climbed out of the hot tub, Elara wrapped herself in a thick, plush bath towel left on the wicker lounger. Her dark eyes drifted toward the frosted glass double doors Kaelen had pointed out earlier.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she pushed the glass doors open and stepped out of the cold night air, crossing the threshold into the Alpha’s private sanctuary.

The room was vast, dim, and completely steeped in Kaelen’s lingering scent—a rich, intoxicating blend of cold cedar, crisp mountain pine, and dark amber. Dark hardwood floors ran beneath her bare, damp feet, leading toward a massive, charcoal-framed king bed piled high with dark gray linens and plush velvet pillows. The suite was surprisingly minimalist for a man of his immense power and stature, uncluttered and orderly, reflecting the quiet, fierce discipline of the wolf who ruled the territory.

Elara padded softly across the woven rug and into his private ensuite bathroom. It was framed in polished dark slate and chrome, dominated by an expansive glass rainfall shower. Stepping inside, she turned on the hot water, letting steam billow up to fill the room, and reached for his dark bottle of body wash. A small, shy smile touched her lips as she worked the rich lather into her skin, letting the clean, masculine scent of his soap wash over her, wrapping her in his presence before she was even in his arms.

After drying off, she padded barefoot into his sprawling walk-in closet. Rows of impeccably tailored tuxedos, crisp military coats, and dark wool jackets lined the high walls.

She ran her fingers gently over the heavy fabrics, searching for something soft, warm, and oversized to wear. Buried near the back of a lower shelf beneath his casual sweaters, her fingers caught on a soft charcoal-cotton fabric. Pulling it out into the dim light, her jaw dropped, a sudden, breathy laugh escaping her lips.

It was a worn, ultra-soft graphic t-shirt featuring a cartoon wolf wearing dark sunglasses above the bold, faded print: I'm the Boss, but my Wolf makes the rules.

The mental image of the stern, terrifying, unflappable Alpha of Silvercrest casually lounging in this shirt was so absurdly endearing that Elara couldn't resist. She pulled it over her head—it swallowed her slender frame completely, the soft hem falling well past her mid-thigh. Slipping on a pair of his soft, dark grey boxer briefs, she pulled the drawstring tight around her waist to keep them from sliding off.

Exhausted, she walked back into the dark bedroom and pulled back the heavy duvet. The sheets smelled intensely of him—warm, clean, and utterly safe. Curling onto her side on his pillow, Elara pulled the thick blankets up to her chin. Within minutes, wrapped in his scent, his clothes, and the lingering warmth of the hot tub, she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Down in the east wing courtyard, the freezing night air was thick, heavy, and rank with the metallic stench of angry wolf pheromones and spilled alcohol.

"I said back down, Silas!" a Silvercrest guard shouted, his hand resting tightly on his silver hilt as two massive, bare-chested wolves snarled violently at each other over a heavy oak table covered in scattered playing cards and spilled gold coins.

"He cheated!" a Bloodmoon warrior roared, his eyes glowing amber as his claws elongated, slicing into the wooden tabletop. "No Silvercrest bastard takes my coin and laughs about it!"

Before the conflict could escalate into drawn blood, the temperature in the open courtyard plummeted instantly.

A heavy, crushing pressure descended upon the stone courtyard, so suffocating that several younger guards gasped, falling straight to their knees under the sheer weight of the aura. Kaelen strode out of the archway shadows, flanked by his beta, Marcus. His face was carved from pure, unyielding granite, his dark eyes glowing with lethal Alpha dominance.

"That is enough," Kaelen commanded. His voice wasn't raised, but the raw, lethal power laced within it vibrated through the flagstones, silencing the snarling wolves instantly.

Marcus stepped forward, expertly maneuvering between the two men and confiscating the coin purse, while Kaelen pinned the primary Bloodmoon instigator with a icy, murderous glare that made the warrior flinch backward.

"The Bloodmoon pack is a guest in my home," Kaelen said smoothly, stepping into the center of the circle, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous register that promised violence. "If your men cannot control their tempers over a petty game of cards, Silas, I will personally throw them into the sub-level cells until sunrise. And they won't leave with all their teeth."

From the shadows near the far corridor, a tall, broad-shouldered man with scarred forearms stepped forward, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. Alpha Silas of the Bloodmoon pack let out a heavy, irritated sigh, shooting his unruly warrior a harsh, warning glare.

"My apologies, Kaelen," Silas grunted, his rough voice gruff with exhaustion. "The wine flows too freely tonight, and my young bloods lack basic discipline." Silas stepped closer, his expression shifting from annoyance to calculated business. "Since we're both wide awake and these fools have ruined the evening's festivities anyway... why not use this chance to have our meeting? The timber trade agreements and boundary lines. Let me buy you a drink and we iron them out in your study while the courtyard cools down."

Kaelen hid his fierce, burning frustration behind an unflappable, stoic mask. Every animalistic instinct in his body was screaming at him to abandon these politics and return to his tower where his female was waiting, but pack duty demanded his absolute authority.

"Lead the way, Silas," Kaelen grumbled, adjusting his cuffs with cold precision. "Let's get this paperwork signed."

By the time Kaelen finally closed the heavy oak door to Silas's temporary quarters and walked back up the winding stone stairs toward his private suite, the grandfather clock in the lower grand hall chimed two in the morning.

He was thoroughly exhausted. His broad shoulders were tight from hours of sharp, exhausting political maneuvering, and his internal wolf was restless, snarling quietly at the administrative delay that had kept him away from the woman waiting above.

Unlocking his bedroom door, Kaelen stepped into the quiet, darkened room. He paused near the threshold, his wolf instantly lifting its head in satisfaction as her scent hit his senses—sweet, warm, and entirely filling his personal space.

He turned toward the bed.

The heavy gray duvet was pulled up, and there, curled in the center of his massive mattress, was Elara. She looked tiny against the dark linens, her long dark hair scattered wildly across his pillow, her face completely peaceful in sleep.

Kaelen’s stern, hardened expression softened instantly, every ounce of political tension melting out of his broad shoulders.

He quietly moved into the bathroom, stripping out of his formal uniform and taking a fast, hot shower to wash away the lingering scents of wine, the courtyard, and the Bloodmoon delegates. Tying a pair of dark sweatpants low on his hips, he padded barefoot and quiet back into the bedroom.

He gently lifted the heavy duvet and slid into bed beside her.

The moment his weight depressed the mattress, Elara stirred softly in her sleep. Without even waking—as if her body instinctively recognized his presence and craved his heat—she turned toward him. She stretched out an arm, resting her small hand flat against his warm, bare chest, and burrowed her face right into the crook of his neck, letting out a soft, contented sigh.

Kaelen froze for a fraction of a second, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs at the sheer, unprompted trust of her movement.

Looking down in the faint moonlight streaming through the window, he caught sight of the faded print on her chest. He blinked, staring at his old graphic t-shirt swaddling her frame, and a low, quiet laugh rumbled deep in his throat.

"Little thief," he whispered softly into the quiet dark, his heart swelling with a fierce, possessive warmth.

Carefully, so as not to disturb her rest, Kaelen wrapped his massive, muscular arm securely around her waist, pulling her flush against his side until there was no space left between them. He rested his chin gently against the top of her head, inhaling the sweet, familiar scent of his own soap mixed with her natural, intoxicating aroma.

His wolf purred deep within his chest, completely at peace for the first time in months.

Closing his eyes, Kaelen held her tightly against his heart, falling into a deep, restful sleep with his mate tucked safely in his arms.