Chapter 31
Faith’s Pov
The meeting with Alpha Kyle had gone well. That was good and he had even decided to stay. I left them to their important talks and walked back home since I was done for the day.
Home. The word felt strange in my mouth lately. I wish Alice hadn’t tainted this place. Even though Alpha Kyle assured me this was where they had spent the night my mind just wouldn’t let go. The memories, like clung to the
walls and to the air.
I had cleaned. The other omegas had cleaned too. We scrubbed and polished until our hands were raw. But it never felt clean enough. Not to me. That’s why I had done it again today. By the time Astor arrived, I was sure the house smelled less of dust and more of desperate attempts to scrub away
something unseen.
“The place won’t get any cleaner than this,” Astor said, his voice gentle as he found me in the kitchen, my fingers still scrubbing a stubborn mark on the counter. Dinner was nearly finished, the comforting aroma of stew filling the
air.
I didn’t look at him, my focus locked on the mark. “Maybe it’s because I’m not just cleaning away the dirt,” I mumbled, my voice rough, “but someone’s presence as well.” I went back to scrubbing.
Then, I felt him. Astor’s presence was a warm tide behind me. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me gently against him. It was a touch, an embrace, that sent a ripple of unfamiliar sensations through me.
On one hand, it made me feel uneasy. This closeness, this comfort, was not something I was used to. It was new, and new things often scared me. But on the other hand, a part of me, a small, hopeful part, craved it. It was the
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warmth of his body against mine, the steady beat of his heart against my
back, and a fluttery, almost giddy feeling, like tiny butterflies, spreading through my chest.
I closed my eyes, a soft sigh escaping my lips as I felt him lower his head, his
scent
–
a mix of pine needles and something uniquely him filling my senses as he inhaled deeply from my hair. His presence was too consuming.
Once upon a time, I had dreamt of this. Of being held, of feeling cherished. And I would be lying if I said that part of me didn’t still yearn for it. But even with Astor’s comforting embrace, a shadow of unfairness lingered. It felt like a stolen moment, a happiness I didn’t quite deserve.
The stew was perfect, rich and hearty. Astor and I sat at the worn wooden table, the silence between us comfortable, not heavy. He spooned a portion onto my plate, his gaze soft.
“You know,” he began, his voice thoughtful, “this reminds me of when I was a kid.” A smile touched his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes. ” dad was often busy around the pack so this was probably the only time I got to spend with him.” he said and I looked at him.
Astor is not sentimental by only and he has never felt the need to share certain parts of himself with me but he was really doing it.
‘he once tried to teach me how to cook but the problem is that he is not much of a cook himself so we found flour at some point and we ran around the house pretending we were ghosts.” he said smiling at the memories and I found myself laughing too, a genuine, light sound that surprised even me. The image of a sheepish–looking father and a flour–covered child was so endearing. “Ghosts?” I asked, wiping a tear from my eye.
“Yep,” Astor chuckled, his eyes twinkling “We ran around the house, bumping into furniture and making spooky noises. Mom would just stand the and look at us laughing.”
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Chapter 31
I thinking misses his parents and don’t get me wrong they one of the most amazing parents I’ve ever seen and it’s probably because I was never seen a
lot of those.
I know he is the most important person in their lives but last couple of years they’ve priorised traveling and spending time together so I think a part of him does miss them.
We talked more, about simple things, about our days, about the strange, comfortable rhythm that was starting to form between us.
After dinner, the dishes waited. Usually, this was my solitary task, another quiet chore to fill the empty hours. But tonight, Astor stood up. “Let me help,” he said, his voice matter–of–fact.
I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. We worked side–by–side at the sink, the warm water and the gentle clinking of plates a new kind of harmony. It didn’t feel like a burden anymore, not with him there. His large hands carefully washed, my smaller ones dried. It was simple, domestic, and surprisingly, not uncomfortable at all. It felt…shared.
As I put the last plate away, Astor turned to me. The warm glow of the kitchen lights cast a soft light on his face. He reached out, his thumb gently brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. My breath hitched. His eyes, so
kind and steady, searched mine.
Then, slowly, he leaned in.
My heart thudded against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat. I could feel his breath on my lips, warm and intoxicating. He smelled like pine and the clean scent of soap from the dishes. It was a moment suspended in time, a breath held
too long.
And then, his lips met mine.
It was a soft, tentative touch at first, a question. My lips were dry, unsure. But
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then, he deepened the kiss, gently, patiently. It was a sensation so new, so
overwhelming, it sent a shockwave through me. It wasn’t rough or
demanding, but a sweet, melting exploration. A warmth spread from my lips, through my chest, and down into my very core. It was like tasting sunshine, like finding a forgotten melody.
My eyes fluttered shut, surrendering to the unfamiliar bliss. This was what ! had craved, what I had secretly yearned for. The feeling was intense, a heady mix of wonder and a strange, exhilarating fear.
When he pulled back, his eyes were still locked on mine, a question lingering there. My breath was coming in short, quick gasps. The butterflies in my stomach had erupted into a full–blown storm. It had been… beautiful. Undeniably, wonderfully nice.
But it was too much, too fast, too new.
Before I could even think, my feet moved. I turned, a strangled sound escaping my throat, and practically fled.
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