A Warrior’s Second Chance novel Chapter 241

FAYE

I wasn’t insecure.

I knew that about myself. I’d never been the type to spiral over shadows or imagined threats. Still, discomfort didn’t always come from insecurity. Sometimes it came from awareness–from knowing yourself well enough to recognize when something, if left unspoken, could quietly grow teeth.

That was what this was.

So I decided I would talk to Alexander about it. Not tonight–maybe not even directly–but soon. Before my thoughts got ahead of me. Before overthinking turned a harmless feeling into

something ugly.

For now, I lay stretched across the bed, staring up at the ceiling while my mind drifted lazily from

one thought to another. Alexander had gone to check on his mother, to make sure she was settled in for the night. Knowing Helen, that likely meant more than just making sure she had blankets and tea. There would be conversation–the kind layered with history, silences, and things only a mother and son like them could share.

I didn’t mind waiting.

I was just beginning to drift when I heard movement outside–soft footsteps, then the door. The handle turned, and the bedroom door opened.

Alexander stepped inside, already exhaling as if the weight of the day had finally caught up with him.

“Sorry,” he said casually, running a hand through his hair as he closed the door behind him. “I didn’t mean to keep you up. My mom just… had a lot to talk about.”

I smiled, propping myself up on my elbows. “It’s fine.”

Then, tilting my head, I added playfully, “Still can’t believe I had to push you before you realized you needed to convince her to stay the night.”

He paused mid–step, eyes narrowing in mock offense. “A push?” he repeated. “Is that what we’re calling it? Not an assault?”

I laughed. “Oh, please.”

He rolled up his sleeve dramatically. “I have a bruise, you know. Right here. Emotional and physical.

I squinted at his arm. “I see absolutely nothing.”

“That’s because you choose not to,” he said solemnly, then pouted, his lips pulling into an exaggerated sulk. “I may never recover.”

I burst out laughing, unable to help myself.

Moments like this always caught me off guard. This man–right now–looked nothing like the leader of a powerful pack. He looked like a boy teasing his mate for attention, whining theatrically just to make me laugh.

And it worked.

“I’m sorry,” I said between giggles.

He straightened. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it.”

I raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Absolutely not.”

I patted the bed. “Then come here. Let me inspect the damage and make it better.”

His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed beside me. He stretched out comfortably, arm extended as though offering himself up for examination.

“Show me the spot,” I said seriously.

He pointed vaguely to his arm.

I leaned in, studying it with exaggerated focus. “Hmm,” I murmured. “This looks… tragic.”

“See?” he said smugly.

“There’s nothing here,” I whispered, then blew gently against his skin anyway, as if soothing an invisible wound. My fingers followed, massaging lightly. “Better?”

That was all it took.

I burst out laughing–full, unrestrained, stomach–hurting laughter. I rolled onto my back, clutching a pillow as he disappeared into the closet, still muttering under his breath.

It felt so good to finally get him back.

Alexander lived for teasing me. He thrived on it. He poked, provoked, watched my reactions like it was his personal entertainment. And now–I’d flipped the script and caught him completely off guard.

Hearing him rustle around in the closet while I laughed like I’d just won something felt incredibly satisfying.

Worth it. Completely, undeniably worth it.

By the time he came back from his bath, I suddenly remembered I’d forgotten to mention Diana’s visit.

“There’s something I forgot to tell you,” I said, propping myself up on one elbow.

He glanced at me while toweling his hair. “Forgot what?”

“Diana was here earlier this evening.”

That got his attention.

His brows lifted slowly as he set the towel aside. “Dana?” he repeated, like he was testing the name. “What did she want?”

“She said she wanted to see you,” I replied simply. “But I told her you were with your mom, and she decided to come back tomorrow.”

He didn’t react right away.

Instead, he adjusted his pajamas with unhurried movements and climbed into bed beside me, the mattress dipping under his weight. He leaned back against the headboard, arms folding loosely.

Then, calmly, “It’s alright.”