Chapter six
707 Words
Alfie shook his head in disbelief. She has a mate? When? How? Why had she stayed silent until now? It sounded like a convenient excuse, a desperate attempt to delay what was already his.
He had overheard enough of his parents’ conversation in the hall—his mother’s doubt, his father’s unwavering word. Elijah had promised him Casey. An Alpha’s promise was law. Mate or not, she would be his.
Still, the word stung. Mate. It was a problem.
He slipped back into his room and sank onto the bed, staring out the window. Memories of Casey washed over him: the way she looked in a skirt and blouse, the curves that made every wolf glance twice, the platinum hair that shimmered even in dull light. Even as a college student, she had been unbearably beautiful. His wolf urged him to claim her, to brand her as his fiancée, his possession.
And it wasn’t just about status.
Alfie pressed his palms into his eyes, but the image only sharpened—Casey, skin bare, green eyes defiant even as she lay beneath him. He growled low in his throat, body tight with need.
“Lucky bastard,” he muttered bitterly, thinking of Peyton. Adopted brother or not, he got to live under the same roof as her, see her every day, breathe the same air.
Alfie flung himself back on the bed and cursed. Two years. Two years of obsession. Other women had come and gone, disposable distractions, but none of them mattered. None except her.
He stripped off his shirt, jeans, and stepped into the cold shower, letting icy water rain down over his burning skin. It didn’t help. His body refused to calm. His wolf refused to let go.
Snarling, Alfie wrapped a towel around his waist and strode out of his room. He needed release. Needed clarity before he faced Casey again.
The maid’s quarters were quiet. Caroline was alone when he slipped inside, and she didn’t flinch when his arms encircled her from behind. She knew the game. His mouth found her neck, teeth dragging over an old mark. She moaned softly, arching back against him.
It didn’t take long. Alfie wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t cruel. Caroline knew her part; he took what he needed, and she offered it freely enough. But his mind wasn’t on her. It never was.
In the mirror across the room, he watched her movements—her blouse falling open, her lips parting, her hands pressing against glass as he pushed harder. Yet in his mind, it wasn’t Caroline’s reflection. It was Casey’s. Always Casey’s.
When it was over, he pulled away quickly, not giving her a chance to speak. A kiss, a smile, and the door closed behind him. She would think it was just another of their secret encounters. She would never know that, in truth, she was nothing but a shadow for the woman he craved.
Back in his room, Alfie dressed carefully: button-down shirt, dark jeans, a splash of cologne. He caught his reflection in the mirror. Sharp. Controlled. Ready.
And he had a plan.
His little sister’s room was next door. He didn’t bother knocking.
Ava was perched on the window ledge, a book in her lap. She looked up, unimpressed, her red-and-black braid sliding over one shoulder. Her eyes, hidden behind crimson contacts, narrowed in irritation.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked dryly, marking her page.
“Are you really as much of an expert in herbs as you claim?” Alfie dropped into her chair.
Her brow arched. “Insulting me will not get you answers.” She smirked. “But yes. You know I am. What mischief are you stirring now, brother?”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I need something. Something that can block a mate mark.”
For the first time, Ava’s smile faded. She studied him in silence, her sharp gaze cutting through his facade.
“Why?”
“Because there’s a girl I like,” Alfie said smoothly, lips curving. “And she thinks she found her mate.”
Ava tilted her head, still watching him. She didn’t answer at once, and that silence was louder than any question.
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