Chapter 140: The Morning After Four Days of Sin

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I slowly opened my eyes, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, and took a moment to assess the situation. My nest, which I had painstakingly constructed from Lorenzo’s wardrobe like a frantic, horny architect of some kind, now lay in complete disarray.

Honestly, I felt for it. I worked hard on that mess.

The room was saturated with our combined scents, Lorenzo’s rich, dark alpha aroma blending with my sweeter omega one, all laced with lingering traces of my heat.

Not to mention the smell of sex.

My body felt sore and sticky in places I preferred not to dwell on before breakfast, yet the frantic need that had consumed me for days had finally subsided, replaced by a gentle warmth that felt more like a glowing ember than a blazing inferno.

I could think clearly again, which was wonderful for my sanity but devastating for my dignity.

Because, let’s be honest, a clear head meant I could remember everything.

Things I would have much preferred to forget.

Lorenzo slept soundly, his arm draped casually around my waist as though even in sleep he refused to treat holding me close as optional.

His long, pale hair had broken free from whatever style he’d attempted before I pulled at it durng one of our fuck sessions and now spilled messily across the pillow, with a few strands falling over his forehead.

I found myself wanting to run my fingers through those beautiful strands.

In slumber, his features had softened, the tension gone from his jaw, and the morning light caressed the gentle curve of his lips, making him look almost unfairly handsome. That jawline softened by sleep and long lashes casting shadows across his cheeks.

I propped myself up on one elbow and stared at him.

And kept staring.

I was starting to understand why people made terrible decisions in those romance novels I’d read to compare to horror novels for fun, because if someone had handed me a detailed list of Lorenzo’s criminal and psychotic offenses against my common sense, I would have signed it, sealed it, and asked for one more look at his face before tossing the book aside.

He looked so precious right then and there. So angelic and sweet, nothing like the dangerous, commanding man who had held me down and fucked me me through wave after wave after wave of heat.

My cheeks burned so quickly I almost checked whether my heat had decided to return again.

I couldn’t believe it! I had spent days...four days, begging, crying my eyes out, climbing and mounting like a bitch in heat whenever he wanted to rest.

"Oh, holy shit," I whispered, covering my face with both hands. "We are not doing this today."

I groaned into my palms.

"I used to be a respectable person," I complained to the ceiling, which offered zero sympathy. "Dracula’s never gonna let me live this down!"

The ceiling remained silent, once again confirming I lived in an emotionally unsupportive household.

Lorenzo was never going to let me live this down. I could already picture that maddening little smile he’d wear whenever I got defensive, followed by some quiet comment about how I had sounded the night before. He’d probably mention it at breakfast, over lunch, and maybe even at my funeral...standing by my coffin telling everyone what a brave omega I had been, one who had once begged him to stay close enough to breed me.

I’d haunt him.

Despite the embarrassment, a small smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it.

Because beneath the mortification, beneath the soreness and the memories I wanted to bury under layers of concrete, something warm and steady bloomed in my chest.

I had felt safe and there were no regrets.

Even when my body had been overwhelmed by sensations I could barely process, even when my thoughts were scattered and my instincts drowned out my pride, Lorenzo had been there. He had listened when I asked him to stay, held me when I needed it, and handled every frightened, vulnerable piece of me with a patience I hadn’t known I required until I experienced it.

He never made me feel foolish for losing control of myself like that, nor did he treat my vulnerability as something he was owed simply because I was his husband.

I turned to look at him again, and my gaze drifted lower, taking in the broad lines of his chest and abdomen.

That’s when I noticed the scars.

I hadn’t truly studied the scars up close, probably because something else had always demanded my attention, and partly because Lorenzo carried himself with such commanding control that it was easy to forget he had ever been anything other than the man he was now.

In the soft morning light, the marks were more prominent.

Some were thin, pale lines across his chest, while others were wider and rougher, stretching over his torso as if whatever had caused them had shown little mercy. One disappeared beneath the edge of the sheet, and another curved along his side, fading into his skin.

They looked very old, maybe about a decade old judging by their faded color, but their shapes made my stomach twist with an emotion I couldn’t quite name.

Who had hurt him? What kind of life had left such marks on someone who moved like nothing could touch him?

Before I fully realized what I was doing, my hand moved. I lifted my fingers and gently traced one of the thinner lines across his chest with the tips of my fingers, barely touching the skin, following its uneven path with a tenderness that surprised even me.

The scar felt smooth beneath my fingertips, but I couldn’t stop imagining the pain behind it or who Lorenzo might have been when he received it.

Had someone he trusted betrayed him? Had he been alone when it happened?

I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn’t notice the shift in his breathing.

One moment I was lightly tracing the scar, and the next a hand closed around my wrist roughly.

The sudden motion made me jump, and Lorenzo’s grip tightened instinctively as he woke, his body going rigid beneath the sheets.

His eyes flew open, the peaceful expression vanishing so fast it was startling. For a split second, he looked like a man who had awoken expecting danger rather than his husband’s gentle touch.

I flinched before I could stop myself.

And Lorenzo noticed immediately.

His fingers relaxed, and the tension in his face transformed into something that made my heart ache more than the startle itself.

He loosened his hold enough to take my hand properly, gently brushing his thumb over the spot he had gripped, as if he could wipe away the memory of that reflex with care alone.

"Alex?" His voice was low and rough with sleep, warm and raspy enough to briefly derail my already unsteady thoughts. "Are you okay, tesoro?"

I stared at him, momentarily distracted by how he could sound like that before breakfast with zero effort.

"Yes," I managed, then cleared my throat because my voice had chosen that inconvenient moment to desert me. "I’m fine. I, uh--I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just--looking."

His gaze scanned my face for any real sign of harm before returning to my wrist.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of it. "I didn’t know it was you."

"Yeah, I figured that out from the part where you grabbed me like I was a ninja coming for your kidneys."

One corner of his mouth lifted, though the concern in his eyes lingered. "You shouldn’t sneak up on me."

His thumb continued its slow movement across my wrist, making it difficult to maintain the indignation I had been cultivating.

I was supposed to be offended, dramatically so...but with Lorenzo looking at me through sleepy eyes, hair falling across his forehead, I was beginning to suspect my husband had found a cheat code for winning arguments.

Then his gaze returned to my face, and that faint smile reappeared.

"By the way," he murmured, his tone warming with amusement, "I’m curious why you were staring at me so intently."

I immediately regretted my entire existence. "I wasn’t staring...I was just looking at your face. Totally two different things!"

"And what about the rest of me?"

I opened my mouth, realized any answer would only dig me deeper, and closed it again.

Lorenzo’s smile widened with the satisfaction of a man who had won the battle without even leaving the bed. "Shy already, amore mio? After the way you begged last night? You were quite vocal, my love. I dont think I’ve ever heard you say please so many times in one evening."

Oh, God... Please strike me down now!