Trapped between Aunt Akiko's expectant smile and Stefano's unwavering gaze, I saw no graceful escape route. "Fine," Iconceded with poor grace. "A very brief tour. Of just the garden. With all clothes remaining firmly in place and at least three feet of personal space maintained at all times."
Marco's laugh followed us as Stefano guided me toward the door, his hand settling at the small of my back with casual possession that sent electric tingles up my spine. The heat of his palm burned through my sweater like he was branding me.
"Shall we, little prince?" he asked, his voice dropping to that register that made my omega hindbrain sit up and pay attention.
As we stepped outside into the cool evening air, I couldn't shake the feeling I'd just voluntarily walked into the wolf's den. Again.
Apollo and Zeus were stationed on the porch, finishing bowls of what appeared to be premium dog food. Aunt Akiko had apparently drawn the line at allowing them inside but had still managed to find a way to spoil them.
"Traitors," I muttered as both dogs bounded to their feet, tails wagging enthusiastically at the sight of me. "Selling out for table scraps and belly rubs."
"They recognize quality when they see it," Stefano commented, watching as Apollo pressed his head against my palm, shameless in his quest for attention.
"They recognize a sucker who'll pet them despite their betrayal," I corrected, even as my fingers automatically scratched behind the dog's ears. Zeus wasn't about to be left out, shoving his massive head under my other hand with single-minded determination.
I caught Stefano watching me with that intense gaze that always made me feel like he was cataloging my every reaction for future reference. The moonlight cast his features in silver and shadow, turning those cobalt eyes almost luminous in the darkness.
"What?" I demanded, self-consciousness making me bristle.
"You're gentle with them," he observed. "Despite all your talk of betrayal and threats."
"I'm not a monster," I said, oddly defensive. "Unlike some people present who manipulate elderly caretakers and invade private property."
His smile was slow and predatory. "Shall we walk? I believe I was promised a tour of the garden."
Without waiting for my response, he started down the stone path that wound through Aunt Akiko's meticulously maintained garden. Small solar lights illuminated the edges of the walkway, casting pools of gentle illumination against the darkness. The night air was warm against my skin, carrying the mixed scents of jasmine and wisteria from the flowering bushes that lined the path.
"This isn't exactly what I had in mind when Aunt Akiko suggested a tour," I muttered, following him despite my better judgment. "I was thinking more 'that's a rosebush, those are hydrangeas, good night and goodbye.'"
"Your aunt has created something remarkable here," Stefano commented, seemingly ignoring my sarcasm as he brushed his fingers against a flowering bush. "There's intention behind every placement. Protection and beauty coexisting."
eleven
. . .
The path curved deeper into the garden, taking us farther from the warm glow of the cottage windows. Out here, with only the small solar lights and the silver wash of moonlight, the world narrowed to just us—alpha and omega moving through shadows and fragrant flowering bushes that rose well above our heads in some places.
Perfect. Alone in a secluded garden with an alpha who'd already demonstrated his complete disregard for personal boundaries and basic human decency. Might as well hang a neon sign over my head flashing Terrible Decision-Making in Progress. If poor life choices were an Olympic sport, I'd be standing on the podium right now, gold medal gleaming while the disappointment anthem played.
"Don't play dumb," I said, finally pulling myself together enough to confront him. "I know exactly what's happening here. Charming Uncle Jiro with gardening tips, fixing things around the property, helping with laundry? You're systematically inserting yourselves into every aspect of my life, gaining the trust of the only people I care about. It's Manipulation 101.The basic primer they hand out at How to Be a Creepy Alpha orientation day, complete with PowerPoint and role-playing exercises."
Rather than deny it, Stefano's smile widened. "Perceptive."
The casual admission caught me off guard. "You're not even going to pretend otherwise? No 'we're just doing our jobs' bullshit? Not even a half-hearted 'you're being paranoid'? Your villain monologue needs work. There's supposed to be at least five minutes of smug denial before the shocking revelation."
He stopped at a small clearing where the path widened around an ornamental cherry tree, its branches casting dappled shadows across the stone bench beneath it. The spot was completely hidden from the house by a wall of flowering bushes, creating a private pocket in the otherwise open garden.
I'd walked right into a literal trap. One carefully designed for maximum privacy and minimum chance of rescue. Aunt Akiko's innocent garden suddenly felt like the opening scene of a horror movie—beautiful victim lured to secluded location, monster waiting patiently. Next thing I knew, I'd be running through the trees in slow motion while dramatic music swelled in the background.
"Would you believe me if I did?" he asked, stepping closer and deliberately invading the three-foot bubble I'd demanded.
"No," I admitted, backing up until my legs hit the bench. "But most people at least try to maintain the pretense of decency. Make an effort not to come across as completely psychotic. Little things like that. Social niceties that separate us from feral animals and politicians."
"I'm not most people," he replied, following my retreat with predatory focus. "And I see no point in lying to you. Yes, we are deliberately becoming indispensable to your aunt and uncle. Yes, we are systematically inserting ourselves into every aspect of your life." His voice dropped lower, taking on that dangerousedge that made my skin prickle with awareness. "Because you belong to us, Leo. And we're done allowing distance to maintain the illusion that you don't."
The blatant claim sent heat rushing through me, equal parts outrage and something far more disturbing. My traitorous biology—that forever-reliable source of betrayal—responded with a subtle quickening of pulse that I was certain his alpha senses could detect. Like having an internal double agent reporting directly to the enemy.
"I don't belong to anyone," I shot back, lifting my chin defiantly. "Especially not three hired hands my father employed to babysit me. What's next, the gardener claiming ownership rights? Maybe the mailman? The guy who reads the electric meter? I don't come with a transfer of title just because you've spent a few nights in a tent outside my fence."
