The Breaking Point of Mate: Giving Up on My Alpha novel Chapter 63

Chapter 63

Third Person’s POV

On her way back, Melanie passed by the wetland park again.

Kites danced across the sky like symbols of unconstrained freedom. On a sudden whim, she turned the wheel and drove inside.

The breeze was gentle on the lawn, the sun was perfect, and the air was filled with the laughter of happy couples.

Melanie walked through the crowds alone. She had intentionally suppressed her scent, making that hint of apple blossom extremely faint and light.

She stopped in front of a kite stall, her fingertips grazing the rough surface of a string reel.

Just as she was hesitating over whether to buy one to release her heavy mood, a soft little hand gently took hold of her index finger and gave it a pleading little tug.

“Auntie.”

Melanie looked down, her eyes widening in surprise. “Myra?”

Myra bit her lip and nodded, the grip on Melanie’s finger tightening slightly, as if she were making sure this wasn’t a

hallucination.

“Myra-”

A moment later, Dwight’s deep voice sounded from behind her.

The second he saw Melanie, his stride came to an abrupt halt. Even his normally steady pheromones flickered with a minute tremor of disorder.

He walked over, his gaze sweeping over Melanie’s somewhat pale face, his tone deepening. “You’re here too?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you bring Trista?” Dwight looked around, but he couldn’t pick up the familiar scent of the little wolf pup.

Melanie lowered her lashes to hide a flash of self–mockery. Her voice was as cold as a lake in late autumn. “No. I’m by myself.”

Dwight went silent.

As Archer’s best friend, he knew exactly who Archer was with at the ranch today.

His nostrils flared slightly. The sharp senses of a male werewolf allowed him to catch the shift in Melanie’s scent–it was in a ” semi–vacuum state,” the mark of a female who had been neglected for too long, whose own Alpha hadn’t refreshed his mark in

ages.

That faint apple scent possessed a sweetness that made the gray wolt dormant inside him stir restlessly.

“Auntie, fly a kite with me,” Myra pleaded, her eyes full of longing

“I can’t, sweetie,” Melanie reflexively declined. The boundary keeping instinct of a Luna made her want to create distatky. “I have things to do.”

The light in Myra’s eyes dimmed instantly.

Watching this, the wolf inside Dwight was practically screaming at him to make her stay

He suppressed the dryness in his throat and spoke up. “Stay. It’s just the two of us anyway.”

Sensing her resistance, Dwight added in a low, almost coaxing rasp, “I’ll just watch from the sidelines. I won’t bother you. Just

Chapter 63

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think of it as keeping Myra company.”

Melanie looked at Myra, then at the happy families in the distance. In this moment, she absolutely hated being alone.

“Okay,” she finally relented.

They picked out a massive blue butterfly kite.

The kite was heavy; even though Melanie was experienced, she struggled a bit with the tension on the reel.

Dwight stepped forward without a word, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. He didn’t touch Melanie directly, but he used his strength to help her steady the reel against the wind.

When the kite successfully caught an updraft and soared into the sky, Melanie finally gave her first genuine smile in weeks, her eyes sparkling.

Dwight watched her from a few steps back.

In that moment, the wolf inside him paced frantically, greedily inhaling every molecule of the female’s pheromones drifting on

the wind.

It was a predatory, aggressive hunger–an dark impulse to snatch her away and hide her deep within his own territory.

Sensing his heavy gaze, Melanie turned to meet his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

Dwight’s knuckles whitened as he gripped his hands into fists, forcibly shoving back the golden–brown glint of his wolf eyes. His voice was stiff. “Nothing.”

Melanie didn’t think much of it and walked a bit further away with Myra.

Dwight followed, maintaining a standard social distance of three meters. His logic told him she was his brother’s mate, but his wolf kept reminding him—her mark was fading. She was almost free. 12

By lunchtime, Myra was complaining she was hungry.

There was a small bistro near the park. Healed slightly by the last two hours of relaxation, Melanie didn’t refuse Dwight’s invitation for lunch.

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