Fire Between Worlds

The Invitation

Alexander’s POV

The lead from Elena burned in my mind like a brand—Lunaris Sangre. Guardians of the Moon. Extinct, except for the woman who’d hugged me like I was her last safe harbor and the four children who’d stared down their own father without flinching. Every hour that passed without seeing her felt like sandpaper on raw nerves. The bond was no longer a gentle tug; it was a constant, insistent pull, yanking me toward Oakwood like gravity.

I couldn’t wait for Sunday service. Couldn’t sit through another committee meeting pretending the only thing on my mind was coat donations and logistics. My wolf was done with patience. See her. Smell her. Protect. The pups too—my pups now, in every instinct that mattered.

I needed a reason. A legitimate one. Something human. Practical.

The charity drive. The trucks I’d offered.

It was thin, but it would do.

I pulled out my phone, found her number from the committee contact list Reverend Hayes had shared. My thumb hovered over the call button for a full ten seconds before I switched to text. Voice would be too much—too intimate, too raw. Text let me keep the mask on.

Alex: Hey Bella. Hope you’re doing okay after last night. I was thinking about the winter drive logistics. I’ve got one of the box trucks ready at my place—clean, fueled, extra blankets and tarps in the back if you want to use it for pickups. Could you swing by this afternoon to check it out / take the keys? No rush, just figured it’d save time before the weekend rush. Address is 1427 Ridgewood Lane (gated, but I’ll buzz you in). Let me know if that works.

I hit send before I could overthink it.

The reply came faster than I expected.

Bella: Hey Alex. Thanks again for last night… and for everything. That actually would help a ton. Marisol can drop me and the kids off around 3? She’s got the afternoon free and wants to meet the “generous new donor” anyway 😉 We’ll be quick, promise.

My chest loosened. Three o’clock. Today.

Alex: Perfect. Gate code is 1994. See you then.

I stared at the screen another moment, then pocketed the phone. Marcus found me in the foyer ten minutes later, eyebrow raised.

“You look like you just won a territory dispute,” he said.

“She’s coming. With the kids. Marisol’s dropping them off.”

He whistled low. “Fast work. Excuse?”

“Truck for the drive. She needs to pick it up.”

Marcus smirked. “Smooth. And when she gets here and realizes this is basically pack central?”

“She won’t. I’ll keep it contained—study, garage, back deck if needed. No one else around. You’re on perimeter duty. Make sure the sentries stay back.”

“Got it, Alpha.” He paused. “You good? Wolf still clawing?”

“Always,” I admitted. “But seeing her will help. Smelling her. Knowing she’s safe.”

He clapped my shoulder once. “Then go make the place look less like a wolf den and more like a billionaire’s house. Hide the claw marks on the banister.”

I snorted, but he wasn’t wrong. I spent the next two hours tidying—moving training gear out of sight, dimming the overly bright security lights, making sure the guest wing looked lived-in rather than militarized. The garage smelled faintly of motor oil and pine; I cracked the doors to air it out.

At 2:55, the intercom buzzed.

I answered from the foyer. “Bella?”

A warm, accented voice—not hers. “This is Marisol. We’re here with Isabella and the niños. She says you’re expecting us?”

I hit the gate release. “Come on up. Drive straight to the front.”

The minivan rolled through—same one from the church lot. Marisol parked near the steps. Bella climbed out first, dark hair loose today, wearing jeans and a soft cream sweater that hugged her in all the ways that made my mouth go dry. The kids spilled out behind her: Sofia with her sketchbook, Mateo scanning the property like he was memorizing escape routes, Lucia bouncing on her toes, Diego clutching a stuffed wolf I hadn’t noticed before.

Marisol stepped out last—petite, silver-streaked hair in a neat bun, eyes sharp and assessing. She looked me up and down once, then smiled—warm but watchful.

“Mr. Thorne,” she said, extending a hand. “Marisol Ramirez. Thank you for helping with the church drive.”

“Alex, please.” I shook her hand—firm grip, no nonsense. “And it’s my pleasure.”

Bella met my eyes over her stepmother’s shoulder. A small, almost shy smile curved her lips. “Hi.”

“Hi.” My voice came out rougher than intended.

The kids clustered around her legs. Lucia tugged her sleeve. “Mama, is this the wolf house?”

Bella laughed—light, surprised. “Lucia!”

I crouched to her level, keeping my tone gentle. “Not quite a wolf house. But we do have a lot of trees. Want to see the truck first?”

Diego nodded solemnly. Mateo just watched.

Marisol glanced at Bella. “I’ll wait in the car, mija. Take your time. Text when you’re ready.”

Bella hugged her quickly. “Thanks, Mami.”

Marisol drove off slowly, leaving us in the quiet driveway.

I led them toward the garage. “This way.”

The box truck sat waiting—white, unmarked, spotless. I opened the back doors. Blankets, tarps, a few extra boxes of non-perishables I’d had delivered that morning.

Bella stepped up beside me, close enough that her scent wrapped around me again—garden, vanilla, and now the faintest trace of relief. “This is perfect, Alex. Seriously. We can use it for the big collection day.”

“Keys are in the ignition. You can take it whenever. Or leave it here until needed—I’ve got the space.”

She looked at me then—really looked. Gratitude, curiosity, something softer. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to.” My voice dropped. “For you. For them.”

The kids were already exploring: Sofia climbing into the cab to check the dashboard, Mateo inspecting the tires like he was calculating load capacity, Lucia and Diego peeking into boxes.

Bella watched them a moment, then turned back to me. “They’re… calmer here. Weirdly.”

“They feel safe.” I didn’t elaborate. Didn’t need to.

She bit her lip. “Last night… the hug. I’m sorry if it was too much. I just—”

“Don’t apologize.” I stepped closer, voice low so only she could hear. “It was exactly what I needed too.”

Her breath hitched. Pupils dilated slightly—senses sharpening again. She inhaled, subtle but unmistakable. Taking me in.

The bond thrummed between us—lust flickering hot, love steady beneath it.

Lucia called from the truck bed: “Mama! There’s cookies in here!”

Bella blinked, laughed, stepped back. “Coming, mija.”

But before she moved, her hand brushed mine—brief, deliberate. Fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.

“Thank you,” she whispered again.

I watched her walk to the kids, heart pounding.

She was here. In my space. With my pups.

The wolf inside me settled—not gone, but content.

For now.

Because soon—very soon—I wouldn’t need excuses.

She’d come because she wanted to.

And when she did?

I’d be ready to show her everything.