Page 73 of Alpha Charmed

He undresses me slowly, reverently, like I’m treasure to be unwrapped. My elegant coat, laid carefully over a chair. My professional blouse, each button undone with deliberate attention.

“You’re staring,” I observe when I’m down to undergarments and vulnerability.

“I’ve been wanting to stare.” His voice is rough. “Let me have this.”

So I let him. Let him look at me—really look—in a way I’ve never allowed anyone. And instead of feeling exposed, I feel… seen. Not the coven leader. Not the untouchable authority figure. Just Anouk. Just me.

“Your turn,” I manage. My fingers reach for his shirt, and I’m pleased to note they’re barely trembling. “Fair is fair.”

“Is that what this is? Fair?”

“This is whatever we want it to be.” I pull his shirt over his head, and my breath catches at the planes of muscle beneath. He’s lean and powerful, built for efficiency rather than show—a predator’s body. “And what I want is to see you.”

The marks on his skin tell stories—scars from battles I wasn’t there for, evidence of a life spent protecting others. I trace one across his ribs, a thin white line that must have hurt terribly when it was fresh.

“Border dispute,” he explains. “Ten years ago. A rogue wolf tried to claim pack territory.”

“What happened?”

“I stopped him.” Simple. Factual. As if risking his life for his pack was just another item on a task list.

“You’re maddening,” I tell him.

“You’ve mentioned.”

“I mean it differently now.” My hands flatten against his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my palms. “Before, it was frustration. Denial. Telling myself I found you annoying when really I found you…”

“Found me what?”

“Essential.” The word surprises me as much as it surprises him. “Like you’ve become so woven into my life that I can’t imagine it without you. Even when we were just colleagues, even when I was pretending I didn’t notice you at every council meeting—you were there. Part of everything.”

“Anouk.” His voice is rough.

“Don’t.” I drag him closer. “Don’t say anything romantic. Just—show me. Show me what you’ve been planning all this time.”

He shows me.

Caius’s patience, I discover, extends to every aspect of his attention.

He knows me. Knows the way my breathing turns irregular when he kisses the hollow of my throat. Knows that my magic spikes when his teeth graze my shoulder. Knows exactly how to touch me to make my carefully constructed control shatter into pieces.

All that watching. All that quiet attention to details I never thought anyone noticed.

“You’ve been paying attention.” I’m breathless, spread beneath him on sheets that smell like pine and wolf.

“Every moment.” He traces patterns on my skin that make my nerves sing.

I want to laugh, but his mouth has moved lower, and the sound that comes out is decidedly not laughter. My fingers find his hair, grip tight, and I feel the low sound of his satisfaction against my skin, and my grip tightens in response.

My magic responds to his attention—not fighting me, not threatening to spiral. Rising to meet him. The air around us warms. On his bedside table, a small herb cutting I hadn’t noticed starts growing, vines reaching toward the ceiling.

“Your magic…” he observes, and there’s wonder in his voice.

“Is your fault.” I drag him back to my mouth. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t stop.

Everything I’ve been denying myself, everything I’ve held back behind walls of control and professionalism—he unlocks it all. His hands are everywhere, his mouth relentless, and somewhere in the middle of it all, I forget to be the coven leader. Forget to be strong. Forget everything except the sensation of being wanted, being claimed, being his.