Chapter 6

Wendy's POV

For the past three years, I'd lived alone in a rented apartment, cooking for myself, and somewhere along the way I'd gotten good at it. It didn't take long for two dishes and a bowl of soup to be steaming on the table.

"Cassian, dinner's ready." I knocked lightly on the study door and eased it open. I gave him a small smile and didn't quite dare hold his gaze.

"I'll be right there." Same flat, distant tone as always.

We sat across from each other, eating carefully, neither of us willing to break the silence first. The air between us went heavy and still.

More than once, I felt my lips part, searching for something to say. Then I'd catch that cool, unbothered look on his face and swallow the words right back down.

After we finished, Cassian offered to do the dishes. I didn't argue. If he wanted to share the housework, why on earth would I stop him?

You could tell just by watching him. The careful, slightly clumsy way he handled everything made it obvious he'd never done this before. Which made sense, really. The Alpha running an entire company, elbow-deep in dishwater. Of course he wasn't used to it.

"Here, let me." I walked over and reached for the bowl in his hands.

"No. I've got it." He shifted the dish out of my reach, his voice never changing.

"Cassian, really, it's—" But that steady, immovable look in his eyes stopped me cold. I gave up and nodded, backing out of the kitchen to let him finish.

I sat down on the couch and turned on the TV, flipping to a news channel at random. Of course, the screen filled instantly with footage of Cassian giving some interview. Heat crept up my neck, and I switched channels fast.

Every so often as I watched the news, I'd glance toward the kitchen. Through the glass door, I could see him, focused and serious, working his way through the dishes.

And I sighed quietly to myself, one more time. Even doing something as ordinary as washing dishes, this man somehow made it look like art.

The man was formidable at work, magnetic even at the sink. What in the world would it take to catch him off guard, just once? To see him fumble, human and unguarded?

He finished up, dried his hands, and came back into the living room to find me sitting there, lost somewhere in my own head. He studied my face for a few seconds before he spoke. "Wendy."

"Oh—" That low, quiet voice around my name did something strange to me. It sounded impossibly good, and I felt my face heat all over again.

Cassian settled onto the other end of the couch. "There are some things I'd like to talk through with you."

"Of course." I'd been wanting the same thing. This was my chance to clear the air.

His dark eyes moved over me, slow and considering, before he began. "About today, at the office—"

"Work and home stay separate. I get it." I cut him off before he could finish. "Honestly, the last thing I want is people whispering about us because of something private. I'd rather it didn't touch the office at all."

I'd worked hard for three years to earn my place at that company. I still wanted to climb higher on my own merit. I didn't want a single thing about that to change because of Cassian.

His expression stayed calm, but behind those gold frames something flickered, quick and hard to catch. "I didn't hide my position as Alpha from you on purpose. Seeing you there today, in front of everyone, I didn't know what you were thinking. So I said nothing publicly. But that doesn't mean I intend to keep it hidden forever."

"I know." I nodded. "Work and life are two different worlds for me. I'm the one who doesn't want to drag my personal life into the office."

Signing that marriage license was between the two of us. As far as I was concerned, there was no reason to announce it to the entire company.

For one thing, I didn't want it touching my work. For another, I honestly had no idea how far this marriage was going to go.

Cassian watched the resolve settle over my face. After a pause, he asked, "Have you told your family about the wedding?"

I shook my head. For a moment, I almost left it there.

Then the words came out anyway.

Family.

Every time that word crossed my mind, my chest ached, a dull tightness that made it hard to breathe.

Three years ago, that pack had stopped being my home. And I could never go back.

"There's no family left to tell. My mother disappeared not long after I was born. My father never forgave me for being scentless. He called me a defect in the bloodline. So I renounced the pack. I've been a lone wolf ever since."

Cassian didn't look away. He didn't offer pity either. When he spoke, his voice was low and steady.

"Then he was a fool. A scent doesn't make a wolf. Strength does."

Something in my chest loosened.

"Wendy." He didn't push. Instead, he said my name, low and steady, then added, "You're not on your own anymore. You have me."

It wasn't a declaration of love. Not even close. But something about it sent a wave of feeling through me that I couldn't quite name.

I'd gritted my teeth and made it through these years. Still, in the dead of night, when it all came back to me, the grief would rise up anyway. I'd cried over it more than once, alone in the dark.

Cassian spoke again. "We're husband and wife now. I mean it when I say I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And my pack will treat you with respect."

I hadn't expected that, and it left me frozen for a moment. I looked up and met his eyes, and there was nothing but sincerity in them. "I want that too," I said. "I've already made up my mind. I want to spend my life with you."

He held my gaze, quiet for a few seconds. "Then can you promise me something, Wendy? No matter what happens, you won't be quick to walk away."

"Yes." I nodded hard. "I'll do everything I can to be a good wife to you."

Not walking away was exactly what I wanted too. Hearing him say it out loud, in his own voice, settled something in me. It made me feel safe.

After that conversation, the knot in my chest loosened. Even Wraith, who'd been restless and pacing for days, finally went quiet inside me.

Cassian disappeared into the study. I tidied up a little, then went to shower.

He'd showered too. He wore a white bathrobe, a sliver of smooth, warm skin visible at his chest. His hair was still dripping, and I watched a single drop trace the line of his body before vanishing into the white fabric.

Goddess, he looks so good.

My face went hot without warning.

"It's been a long day. You should get some rest." His voice came low and warm, that deep, magnetic pull to it that made my heart stumble for no good reason.

He made no move to leave.

My pulse jumped hard against my throat.

If we had sex—if we went further—would the bond light up between us?

Would he feel it and know, right then, that I was his fated mate?