Alpha's Regret: Marked By The Lycan King

Chapter 154: Chapter 154: Fight Or Flight

Third POV

Zayne’s heart clenched tightly when he heard Estelle’s request. Her voice was so soft and vulnerable in the darkness of his bedroom. He stood there frozen, her fingers still wrapped around his wrist like a lifeline.

He told himself he should leave. This wasn’t appropriate. But when he tried to gently pry her fingers away, her eyebrows furrowed in distress, and her grip only tightened.

Zayne sighed quietly. She wasn’t going to let go.

He looked at the couch in the living room, then back at Estelle’s peaceful face. Maybe he could just lie down with her for a short while. Just until she relaxed enough to release his wrist.

Carefully, he moved to the other side of the bed and settled on top of the covers. The moment he climbed onto the mattress, Estelle shifted toward him, closing the distance between them. She snuggled into his embrace as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Zayne’s heart skipped a beat. He didn’t dare move, and he barely even breathed. Her warmth pressed against his side, her face tucked against his shoulder.

This is just one time, he told himself. He could allow himself this stolen moment.

***

Outside his apartment building, a figure stood in the shadows between two parked cars. They watched the lights in Zayne’s windows with keen interest, noting when the living room went dark, and only the bedroom remained lit.

When that final light switched off, the figure quietly slipped away into the night.

***

Estelle’s POV

The next morning, I woke up because something was weighing down on me. My eyes felt heavy, and it took effort to crack them open.

A man was sleeping in bed next to me.

Panic shot through me for a split second before my brain caught up. It was Zayne.

He was still deep asleep, looking more peaceful than I’d ever seen him. His sharp features were relaxed, his silver hair slightly mussed against the pillow. Neither of us had changed out of our clothes from last night. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, the fabric wrinkled.

I was wrapped in his arms, pressed right against his chest. His scent surrounded me completely. It was comforting in a way that made my heart slow to a steady rhythm.

I couldn’t help but study his sleeping face. He was incredibly handsome. Even up close, he still looked majestic. I’d never seen such an attractive man before.

Without thinking, I lifted my hand and lightly traced my finger along his features. Down the bridge of his nose, along his sharp jawline, over his eyebrows. I marveled at how perfect his bone structure was.

My finger grazed his lips when his eyes suddenly snapped open.

The world spun. Before I knew what was happening, my back was against the mattress and my arms were pinned down on both sides of my head. Zayne was hovering over me, his eyes still clouded with sleep but alert.

He quickly realized it was me and immediately let go.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I shook my head and reached up to cup his cheeks gently. “It’s okay.”

He probably had that reaction because of all those years running and hiding from assassins. His body was always in fight or flight mode, always ready for danger.

Zayne melted into my touch, his eyes closing briefly. I smiled and ran my thumb across his cheek slowly, feeling the slight roughness of stubble.

“Did I fall asleep on the couch?” I asked.

Zayne nodded. “You did.”

I laughed at myself. “I should’ve guessed as much. I was already feeling a little buzzed at the event, and that full meal probably did me in.”

“I’m sorry for taking up your bed,” I said, suddenly embarrassed.

Zayne’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “I would’ve slept on the couch, but you refused to let go of me last night.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks as I remembered waking up pressed against him. “Oh.”

We slowly got up, and I tried to smooth down my wrinkled dress while Zayne ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

“I should probably head home and change,” I said, looking down at my rumpled clothes.

“Or,” Zayne said, moving toward the kitchen, “you could stay for breakfast. I have some spare clothes that you can change into, if you would like to wash up.”

I followed him, still feeling slightly awkward about the whole situation. “I don’t want to impose any more than I already have.”

He turned to face me, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Since you made dinner last night, I think it’s only fair if I’m in charge of breakfast. What do you say?”