The Wolf's Queen Vows

Chapter 50: The Worried Alpha

Aveloria had just finished changing into her night robe. The warmth of the bath hadn’t done much to calm her. Her muscles still ached, and her mind was restless. The events of the battle and aftermath replayed in her head: the fight, the blood, the sound of Galen’s breathing as he slipped into unconsciousness.

She had barely sat on the edge of her bed when a knock came at the door.

She sighed. "Who is it?"

"It’s me."

She recognized the voice immediately—Theron. Aveloria hesitated, glancing at her reflection in the small mirror. Her hair was wet, and her face was pale. She opened the door anyway.

Theron’s expression was stern.

"You shouldn’t be here," she said quietly.

"And is there any reason why I shouldn’t be here?" he replied, stepping inside before she could stop him.

Aveloria shut the door behind him. "If Father hears you barging into my room—"

"He’ll understand," Theron cut her off. "Or he won’t. I don’t care."

She crossed her arms. "What do you want?"

He looked at her, scanning her from head to toe. "I wanted to see for myself that you’re truly okay."

"I’m fine."

"You almost weren’t."

She frowned. "You’re scolding me?"

"Yes." His tone was sharp. "You went out there without full knowledge of what you were facing. You could’ve been killed. The Wanderers aren’t just beasts—they’re cursed. You should’ve known better."

"I did know better," she said, matching his tone. "And I went anyway. It’s my duty."

"Your duty is to live long enough to take the throne."

"And how do you expect me to lead if I don’t know what my people face beyond the palace walls?"

Theron’s jaw clenched. "You think that’s leadership? Throwing yourself into danger?"

"I think it’s courage," she snapped.

They stared at each other, breathing hard. The air between them felt thick.

Theron’s voice softened slightly. "You can’t keep doing this. You can’t act like you’re untouchable. You’re not."

"I never said I was," she replied quietly.

He stepped closer. "And please stop pretending you don’t need help."

Her chin lifted. "I didn’t ask for it."

"I know. You never do. Just like your father," he said.

Something in his tone made her heart skip.

She turned away, trying to steady herself. "You shouldn’t treat me like a child, Theron. I can handle myself."

"I know you can, but I still worry. I can’t help it," Theron said, moving closer again. freёweɓnovel.com

"Why?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

His answer came quietly. "Because you matter. You are my mate."

She turned toward him, their bodies inches apart now. His eyes searched hers, not angry anymore, but something else. Something raw. Real.

"You did well today," he said. "Better than anyone expected."

"I didn’t do it for praise," she murmured.

"I know. And that’s what makes it mean something." Theron said softly.

There was a heavy, long silence filled with things neither wanted to admit. Theron’s hand lifted almost without thought, brushing her jaw with his thumb. The touch sent a shiver through her. She didn’t pull away.

Their eyes locked again, and for a moment, neither moved.

"You shouldn’t be in here, Theron," she whispered again, though her voice lacked conviction.

"I couldn’t stay away," he said.

Her breath caught. "Theron—"

He didn’t let her finish. He leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t gentle at first; it was desperate, the kind that came from too many nights of restraint. Her hands moved to his chest, gripping his shirt as if she wasn’t sure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

The choice made itself. And they broke apart, both were breathing heavily.

"Tell me to stop. Tell me to go." He said quietly.

She didn’t. Instead, she pulled him in again, her lips finding his. This time, the kiss deepened, slow and deliberate. His hands cupped her face, tracing the lines of her jaw. Her wolf stirred inside her, restless and yearning, recognizing him not as a stranger or an ally, but as her mate.

She felt the heat rising, and their bond humming like a living pulse.

"Theron..." she breathed, her voice trembling.

He pressed his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling. "I tried to fight it, but I can’t anymore." He murmured.

Neither could she.

"Take me, Theron."

He kissed her again, and this time she didn’t hold back. Their hands moved, searching and unguarded. The walls that had always stood between duty and desire fell away piece by piece. And when his hands slid to her waist and she drew him closer, everything else, the war, the politics, the fear, all disappeared.

Their bond took over, drawing them closer until no distance remained to cross.

Theron removed his clothing. He stood there, his body showing the life he’d lived. His chest was broad, his abs firm and well defined from years of hard training. His arms looked strong, which was a result of real fights, not just exercise. Small scars were across his chest, a reminder of past battles.

Aveloria moved closer, her fingertips tracing every line of the scars. She wasn’t struck by lust but awe of his beauty that came from endurance and years of control and unyielding command.

And then he made a move on her, removing her robe and unhooking her bra. He cupped her boobs and began to kiss her lips again. Theron did it passionately, even as he lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist, and slowly he lay them down on the bed. He kissed down to her neck until his tongue found her nipples.

Aveloria moaned softly into the air.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this day," Theron said in a tight whisper. He dragged his tongue over her nipples and sucked at her tender skin.

"Me too, Theron." She mumbled.

Theron straightened up and removed her panties. "It shouldn’t have taken this long."

Aveloria smiled when he returned to bite on her on her lower lips. "I don’t want to wait anymore."