Her brow furrowed, confusion flickering across her features, her scent shifting to something warmer, more concerned.
"Why would you think that?" Her voice was soft, bewildered, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt like she was anchoring herself to me.
"Because I'm not Reid." The words tumbled out before I could stop them, all the insecurity I'd been swallowing for months finally spilling over. "I'm not commanding or intimidating. I can't make people back down with a look. And I'm not Nolan — I can't heal anything, can't fix what's broken. And I'm definitely not Sawyer. I've never been in a real fight in my life. I've never had to be dangerous."
I laughed, but it came out hollow, empty.
"I'm just... I'm the one who makes breakfast and tells bad jokes. The extra Alpha. The one who fills space but doesn't actually contribute anything essential." I dropped my gaze, unable to look at her anymore, shame burning hot in my chest. "What if something happens and I can't protect you? What if you need a warrior and all you have is me?"
Silence stretched between us, heavy and thick, and I braced myself for her agreement. For the gentle letdown, the reassurance that she appreciated me even if I wasn't what she really needed. Instead, she grabbed my face with both hands and forced me to look at her, her eyes blazing with something fierce and bright.
"Listen to me." Her voice was sharp, commanding in a way I'd never heard from her before, her fingers pressing into mycheeks hard enough that I couldn't look away even if I wanted to. "You are not the extra Alpha. You have never been the extra Alpha. And if you ever say something that stupid again, I'm going to be very upset with you."
"Aster—"
"No." She cut me off, her jaw tight, her scent flaring with something hot and protective that made my Alpha sit up and take notice. "You don't get to dismiss yourself like that. Not to me. Do you have any idea what you bring to this pack? What you bring to me?"
I shook my head slightly, my throat too tight to speak.
"You make this feel like home." Her voice cracked on the word, her eyes going bright with unshed tears, her grip on my face softening but not releasing. "Before you, before all of you, I didn't know what home felt like. I'd never had one. And Reid is wonderful, and Nolan makes me feel safe, and Sawyer understands my feral side in ways no one else does. But you, Kol — you're the one who makes me laugh. You're the one who makes me believe that happiness is possible. That I'm allowed to have it."
A tear slipped down her cheek, and I caught it with my thumb without thinking, my heart pounding against my ribs.
"You're not sunshine because you're shallow." She continued, her voice fierce despite the tears. "You're sunshine because you choose to be. Because you've seen the darkness and you decided to be light anyway. That's not weakness, Kol. That's the bravest thing I've ever seen."
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything except stand there and let her words wash over me like a wave, filling all the hollow spaces inside me that I'd been trying to ignore for years.
"I'm terrified of losing you." The confession ripped out of me, raw and desperate, my hands coming up to grip her wrists,holding her hands against my face like a lifeline. "Before I really got to have you. Before I got to show you everything I feel. I've wanted you since the moment I saw you, and the thought that something could take you away before?—"
She kissed me. It wasn't gentle or tentative. It was fierce, claiming, her lips pressing against mine with a desperation that matched the storm raging in my chest. I groaned against her mouth, my hands sliding into her hair, pulling her closer, breathing her in until I couldn't smell anything but her.
"You have me." She whispered against my lips when we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, her forehead pressed against mine. "You've had me this whole time. And nothing is going to change that."
I kissed her again because I couldn't not kiss her, softer this time, savoring the taste of her, the feel of her body pressed against mine. My Alpha was purring, rumbling in my chest like a contented lion, and I let the sound vibrate between us, marking this moment, marking her.
"Come on." She pulled back eventually, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen from my kisses, her eyes bright with something that looked like joy. "We've got a whole day ahead of us, and I refuse to spend it being scared. Let's do something normal."
"Normal?" I raised an eyebrow, my voice coming out rougher than usual, still affected by the kiss. "What counts as normal when there's a psychopath trying to sabotage the ranch and possibly kidnap you?"
"Anything that doesn't involve thinking about that." She grabbed my hand, tugging me toward the back door, her smile small but real. "Show me something. Teach me something. I don't care what — I just want a few hours where we're just us."
I thought about it for a moment, then grinned — a real one this time, not forced or fake.
"I have an idea." We ended up on the back porch, settled on the wide swing that overlooked the pastures, the morning sun warm on our skin. I'd grabbed a brush and some hair ties from the bathroom, and now Aster sat between my legs, her back against my chest, while I worked through the tangles in her dark hair with careful fingers.
"You know how to braid hair?" She sounded surprised, her voice soft and relaxed, her body melting into mine as I worked.
"YouTube tutorials." I divided her hair into sections, my fingers moving through the motions I'd practiced on rope and twine when I was bored, the repetitive action soothing something jagged inside me. "Spent a lot of time alone after I left home. Had to find ways to keep my hands busy. I'd practice on anything — rope, string, whatever. Turns out it translates pretty well to hair."
She hummed softly, leaning back into me, her scent wrapping around me like a blanket.
"Tell me something." Her voice was soft, curious. "Something you haven't told me before." I thought about it, my fingers still working through her hair, weaving the strands together with careful attention.
"I used to think there was something wrong with me." The words came out quiet, honest. "For wanting connection so badly. My brothers — all four of them — they were so independent. Traditional Alphas, you know? Dominant, aggressive, competitive. They didn't need anyone. And I was..." I trailed off, tying off the first braid. "I was the opposite. The youngest. The accident. The one who was always following them around, desperate for attention, desperate to belong."
Her hand found my knee, squeezing gently, silently encouraging me to continue.
"They made it clear I was a burden." I started on another section, needing to keep my hands busy. "Too loud, too eager,too needy. My parents were overwhelmed with five kids — they didn't have time or energy left for me by the time I came along. And my brothers just saw me as the annoying little brother who wouldn't shut up."
