Anya truly did not have many belongings in Central City.
A few suitcases. Some neatly folded clothes. Books she had carried with her from Riverside. Small personal items that never quite settled anywhere long enough to feel like home.
Alaric handled the packing with practiced efficiency, moving through the apartment as if he had done this a hundred times before. He folded, stacked, zipped, and lifted without hesitation. By the time Anya fully realized what was happening, the suitcases were already by the door.
She barely had time to protest before she was ushered into his car, and even less time to think before she was standing inside his bedroom.
Her heart skipped.
The room was spacious, orderly, unmistakably his. Everything carried his presence, quiet and commanding. The air itself felt different, heavier somehow.
Before she could say anything, Alaric set her suitcase on the bed, unzipped it, and began placing her clothes into the wardrobe as though this arrangement had always existed.
"Alaric," Anya said hesitantly, watching him hang one of her dresses, "wouldn't this be inconvenient? I can sleep in the guest room."
He didn't even turn around.
"I own this house," he said calmly, firmly. "If I say you sleep here, then you sleep here."
Her cheeks flushed instantly.
That tone.
That certainty.
It stirred a memory she hadn't realized was still so close to the surface. The boy who used to step in front of her without thinking. The one who never asked whether she needed protection, only decided she did.
"We used to sleep together all the time," Alaric added casually, reaching for another shirt. "Don't you remember?"
"That was when we were kids," she replied too quickly. "It's different now."
He paused then, finally turning to look at her. He leaned against the wardrobe, arms crossed, eyes holding a hint of amusement.
"What's different?" he asked.
Her mouth opened.
Then closed.
Heat crept up her neck as she struggled for an answer that didn't sound foolish. None came. Instead, she bent down abruptly and began unpacking faster, pretending to focus on arranging her things.
Alaric watched her for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle.
When everything was finally put away, the room fell into a quiet stillness.
Alaric straightened, then without warning reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.
Anya froze.
Her breath caught before she could stop it.
She told herself not to look.
She failed.
Broad shoulders caught the light. Defined muscle shaped by discipline and strength rather than vanity. His body carried power so naturally it felt almost effortless, as though it was simply part of who he was.
She realized she was staring at a heartbeat too late.
"Enjoying the view?" Alaric asked lightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he caught her gaze.
Her face burned instantly.
"I wasn't looking," she said too quickly, eyes darting away.
A soft, low laugh escaped him, not mocking, just amused. He said nothing more as he turned and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Moments later, the sound of running water filled the room.
Anya sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap. Her thoughts spiraled despite her best efforts to calm them. He was confident. Powerful. So sure of himself.
And she felt painfully ordinary by comparison.
When the bathroom door opened again, she instinctively looked away at once.
Alaric stepped out wrapped in a towel, water clinging to his hair and skin. He paused when he noticed her rigid posture and the way her shoulders were drawn tight.
"What's wrong?" he asked gently, stepping closer and resting a hand on her shoulder.
She flinched slightly, then relaxed under his touch.
"I was just thinking," she said softly, "about where I should sleep."
"I don't mind," he replied easily. "Anywhere is fine."
"I'll take the left," she said quickly, moving before she could second-guess herself. She slipped under the covers and lay down, staring at the ceiling as her heart pounded far too loudly in her chest.
A few moments later, Alaric returned fully dressed. He lay down beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, but careful not to touch.
"Don't be nervous," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "Tonight, I won't do anything."
He turned slightly, slipping an arm around her with deliberate gentleness, as though giving her time to pull away if she wished. Then he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
The simple gesture loosened something inside her.
Anya let out a quiet breath she hadn't realized she was holding and allowed herself to rest against him, her body slowly relaxing as the steady rhythm of his breathing surrounded her.
She hesitated for a long moment before speaking, fingers twisting together beneath the blanket.
"Alaric… can I ask you something?"
He turned toward her immediately. "Anything."
She swallowed, gathering the courage that always seemed harder to find when it mattered most. "Why me?" Her voice was quiet, almost fragile. "Why someone like me?"
He didn't pause and he didn't need to think.
"Because you are you," he said simply. "That's enough."
The certainty in his voice made her chest ache.
She turned onto her side to face him, eyes searching his, as if looking for doubt she could argue with. There was none.
"What about my past?" she asked softly. "The things I went through. The scars I carry."
Her gaze dropped to her hands, to the places she instinctively kept covered.
Alaric reached out and took her hand, his grip firm and grounding, as if anchoring her to the present. He laced their fingers together and held on, refusing to let her retreat.
"I will never see them as flaws," he said quietly. "Only proof that you survived."
Her throat tightened.
No one had ever said that to her before.
Something inside her shifted, fragile walls giving way to warmth and courage she hadn't realized she still possessed. Before she could second-guess herself, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.
It was brief. Tentative.
But it was enough.
Alaric turned his head, closing the distance between them, and kissed her lips softly. Not rushed. Not demanding. Just a careful, lingering touch, as if rediscovering something familiar and precious.
She responded instinctively, the tension in her body melting away as the kiss deepened just slightly, still tender, still restrained. There was no urgency, no hunger to take more than what was freely given.
Only warmth. Recognition. Home.
When they finally pulled apart, her hand rested against his chest, palm flat over his heart. She could feel it beneath her fingers, steady and strong, beating with quiet certainty.
She closed her eyes and leaned into him, her breathing evening out.
For the first time in years, she wasn't bracing herself for what might come next.
For the first time in years, she felt safe.
****
Morning light filtered softly into the bedroom.
Alaric Stone had been awake for some time.
He lay on his side, watching Anya sleep, her breathing slow and even. Her lashes cast faint shadows against her cheeks, and her expression was calm in a way that made something deep in his chest loosen.
Carefully, he lifted his hand and brushed his fingers across her forehead, then her cheek. Her skin was warm, impossibly soft.
Anya stirred, a faint smile forming on her lips, as though she felt him even before waking.
Alaric smiled.
When her eyes finally opened, she looked at him for a long moment before whispering, "Good morning, Alaric."
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, lingering just a second longer than necessary. "Good morning, Anya."
She reached up slowly, almost hesitantly, her fingertips tracing the line of his cheek as if committing it to memory. His skin was warm beneath her touch.
Alaric stilled, then covered her hand with his, turning his head just enough to press a soft kiss against her fingers. Before she could pull away, he drew her closer, one arm wrapping around her waist with an ease that felt natural, familiar.
He leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss just below her ear, near the curve of her neck. It wasn't possessive or rushed. Just intimate enough to make her breath catch.
"Let's get ready together," he murmured quietly.
Anya nodded before she realized she had, her heart light in a way it hadn't been for a long time.
They stood side by side in the bathroom, shoulder to shoulder in front of the mirror. The morning light filtered in softly as they brushed their teeth, occasionally meeting each other's eyes through the reflection.
When they finished, Alaric reached for her hand without thinking, his fingers fitting easily with hers. She didn't hesitate this time. She laced her fingers through his and gave a small squeeze.
They left the house together like that, hands intertwined, stepping into the morning side by side.
It felt simple.
It felt normal.
And somehow, that made it precious.
****
The moment they stepped into the office, Leo noticed.
He had been mid-conversation with another staff member, but his attention snapped instantly to Alaric and Anya. It wasn't anything obvious. No public display. No touching. Just the way Alaric's gaze lingered a fraction longer than usual. The way Anya stood closer to him, no longer stiff or guarded. The subtle ease between them.
Leo's eyes widened.
"Alpha," he said, unable to stop himself as he approached, excitement flashing across his face. "You and Anya finally—"
"We're taking things slowly," Alaric cut in calmly, his tone firm but controlled.
Leo stopped short, catching the warning beneath the words. His excitement faded into understanding as Alaric continued, lowering his voice.
"And don't tell my parents. Not yet."
Leo glanced around instinctively, lowering his voice even further.
"Understood," he said quietly. "Your parents would push for an immediate claim if they knew."
Alaric's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"They've waited long enough," he said calmly, but there was tension beneath the words. "If they find out now, they won't care about timing. Or about her."
Leo nodded. He knew exactly what that meant.
The elders, Alaric's parents included, would see Anya not as a woman still healing, still unaware of the truth, but as a mate who needed to be secured. Claimed. Bound. Protected at any cost.
And rushed.
"You want this to be her choice," Leo said.
"Yes," Alaric replied without hesitation. "Not pressure. Not an obligation. Not because of pack expectations."
Leo exhaled slowly. "Then I won't say a word."