Breed Me Cursed Alpha (Lyra and Ronan) novel Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Lyra

I don’t walk back to the fortress.

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I tear toward it, anger driving my feet faster than sense, like if I stop moving for even a second everything I’m holding inside will spill out where everyone can see it.

People move when they see me coming. Not because I ask them to. Not because I glare. They just do. Doors open. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. Someone steps aside so fast they nearly trip over their own boots. I register it distantly, like it’s happening to someone else.

My hands shake.

Anger does that to me. It always has. It turns my blood hot and my thoughts sharp and makes my feet move faster than my sense.

I take the stairs two at a time, skirts gathered in my fists, breath coming hard. Stone flashes beneath my boots. The fortress feels different at this hour. Evening presses in through the windows, light slanting low and gold, catching on dust and banners and the carved wolves along the walls. It should be beautiful.

It isn’t.

It feels like a cage I am finally angry enough to rattle.

By the time I reach my floor, my chest hurts. Not from the climb. From holding everything in. From the garden. From Ronan’s mother. From the way her voice slid into me and rearranged things I had just barely put back together.

I shove my door open.

The room smells like him. Always does. Warm stone. Clean linen. That quiet, steady presence that has started to feel like home whether I’m ready for it or not,

Ronan looks up the second I step inside.

He doesn’t ask what happened.

He doesn’t ask why my face is blotchy or why my hands are curled like I’m still holding onto something I dropped miles ago. He just crosses the room in three strides and pulls me into him.

I break.

and

I don’t cry prettily. I don’t hold back. I sob into his chest like something inside me finally split open decided it was done pretending. My knees go weak and he catches me easily, arms locking around me, solid and unyielding, his chin resting against my hair.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, over and over, like a vow. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

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Chapter 42

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I cling to him. Fingers digging into his shirt. Breathing him in like air. I don’t know how long we stand there. Time goes soft around the edges. The world narrows to his heartbeat under my ear and the way his hand moves slowly up and down my back, grounding me when everything else feels like it might come apart.

Eventually, the crying slows. It doesn’t stop so much as run out of steam. My throat aches. My eyes burn. My head feels heavy.

Ronan shifts just enough to look down at me. His gaze is careful. Attentive. Like he’s bracing for whatever

comes next.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he says quietly. “Not now.”

I nod, because if I try to speak I might start again.

“Come on,” he adds. “Let me take care of you.”

He guides me toward the bathroom like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like this is something we’ve done a hundred times already. The lights are low, warm. Steam curls in the air when he turns the water on, testing it with his hand until it’s just right.

His touch is unhurried as he helps me out of my clothes. Not possessive. Not demanding. Just attentive. Each layer removed with care, as if he’s afraid of startling me. When I’m naked, he doesn’t stare. He doesn’t comment. He simply wraps an arm around my shoulders and leads me into the bath.

The water closes over my skin and I gasp softly, tension easing in places I didn’t realize I was holding it. Ronan kneels beside the tub, sleeves rolled up, and dips a cloth into the water.

“Tell me if this is too much,” he says.

“It’s perfect,” I whisper.

He washes my hair first, fingers gentle against my scalp, working slowly, methodically. The sensation is almost too much in a different way. Not overwhelming. Just… intimate. He rinses carefully, makes sure no soap stings my eyes. When he moves to my shoulders, my arms, my back, I close my eyes and let myself be here. Let myself be cared for without flinching.

He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t push. He stays where I am, in this moment, with me.

When he helps me out of the bath, he wraps a thick towel around me and lifts me easily, carrying me back into the bedroom like it’s nothing. My head rests against his shoulder. His heartbeat is steady. Familiar.

He dresses me in one of his pajama sets. Soft fabric far too big for me. The sleeves fall past my hands. The scent of him clings to everything. I feel smaller in. Safer.

He settles me onto the bed and pulls the blankets up around me. For a moment, he just stands there, looking down at me like he’s memorizing the sight.

“I’ll be right there,” he says, nodding toward the couch. “Try to sleep.”

He turns.

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Chapter 42

“Ronan.”

My voice is barely more than breath.

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He stops. His back stiffens, like he’s already bracing for something he doesn’t want to hear.

“Yes?”

I sit up slowly, heart pounding. The room feels very quiet all of a sudden. Too quiet.

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I reach up and tug the collar of his shirt aside, exposing my neck. My shoulder blade. The place that feels like it’s been humming ever since I learned what it meant.

“Mark me,” I say.

The words land heavy between us.

Ronan sucks in a sharp breath. He turns fully now, eyes dark, expression torn between want and something much closer to fear.

“Lyra,” he says carefully. “You’re hurt. You’re exhausted. This isn’t the time.”

“It’s exactly the time,” I reply. My voice shakes, but I don’t look away. “I need you to choose me. Fully.”

His jaw tightens. “If I mark you, it won’t stop there. You know that. When your heat comes, I won’t be able to pull back. And I will not take advantage of you when you’re vulnerable.”

I swallow hard. “I’m not asking you to take advantage of me. I’m asking you to claim me.”

“That’s not a small thing,” he says, voice rough.

“I know,” I whisper. “That’s why I’m asking.”

He steps closer, then stops himself, hands fisting at his sides. I can feel the tension rolling off him, thick and

electric.

“If I lose control,” he says, “I could hurt you.”

“You won’t,” I say. “You never have.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t,” he snaps, then softens immediately. “Lyra. Please. Don’t make me choose between my instincts and your safety.”

I look up at him, really look. The man who carried me when I couldn’t stand. Who stood between me and everyone who ever tried to break me. Who just held me while I cried like the world was ending.

“If you care at all about me,” I say quietly, “then you’ll mark me. Not because you want something from me. But because you want me to belong somewhere that can’t be taken away.”

His breath stutters.

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Chapter 42

“You think this is about possession,” he says.

Silence stretches.

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The bond hums, low and insistent, like it’s waiting to see which way we’ll fall.

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Ronan lifts a hand, stops an inch from my skin, like touching me is a decision he hasn’t made yet.

His eyes search my face, looking for doubt. He doesn’t find it.

He leans down slowly, reverently, his breath warm against my neck.

And then he stops.

The moment hangs there, fragile and unbearable.

The world seems to hold its breath with us.

And I don’t know if he’s about to give me everything I asked for…

…or walk away to save me from it.

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20:22 Thu, Feb 12 c