Bonded to My Ex's Alpha Brother Chapter 237

Erin's POV

My hands stilled on the counter as I listened, imagining the scene—a younger Derek, facing such a terrible accusation.

"That's why Alexander keeps saying you killed his soul bond," I said softly. "You chose that over being labeled a rapist."

Derek's knife paused momentarily. "I've never forced myself on anyone," he stated with quiet intensity. "I'd rather be known for what I actually did than accused of something I didn't."

I stood at the counter, carefully slicing vegetables while Derek prepared meat for our lunch. The domesticity of the moment struck me as strangely wonderful. Just days ago, I had feared this man, believed him a monster. Now, I found myself stealing glances at him, admiring the way his strong hands moved with such precision.

"Tell me more about when you first became Alpha," I prompted, genuinely curious about the parts of his life I'd never bothered to learn before.

Derek's expression softened slightly as he spoke about his father's retirement ceremony, describing traditions I'd never known existed in our world. I became so engrossed in his story that I lost focus on my task.

"Ouch!" The knife slipped, slicing into my index finger. Blood welled immediately from the cut.

Before I could reach for a towel, Derek was beside me, moving with that inhuman speed that reminded me of what he truly was. He grasped my wrist gently but firmly, his eyes meeting mine for just a moment before he brought my finger to his mouth.

My breath caught as his lips closed around my wounded finger. The sensation of his tongue lightly lapping at the cut sent an unexpected wave of warmth through my entire body. His eyes—now glowing golden—remained locked with mine, intense and unblinking as he continued the healing gesture.

When he finally released my finger, I was stunned to see the wound had already closed, leaving only a faint pink line where the cut had been.

"How did you..." I stammered, staring at my healed finger.

"What?" Derek said, his voice low. "I can't treat my wife's minor wounds?"

This intimate moment reminded me of another moment—we met in a five-star hotel, and he came to the women's bathroom and licked the bruises on my face to treat me. Afterward, surprising me completely, he had apologized. It was the first glimpse I'd had of the man beneath the cold Alpha exterior.

"Thank you," I whispered, suddenly aware of how close we were standing.

His eyes darkened slightly as he lingered near me. "Be more careful, little wolf. I don't like seeing you hurt."

The protectiveness in his voice made something flutter in my chest. We finished preparing lunch in comfortable silence, though I felt his eyes on me constantly, watching with an intensity that would have frightened me once but now only quickened my pulse.

As we sat to eat, I couldn't help noticing how Derek's golden wolf eyes never left me. They weren't cold or calculating as I had once believed, but warm and filled with unmistakable possessiveness. I felt my cheeks flush under his gaze and found myself looking down at my plate, unable to maintain eye contact without my heart threatening to burst from my chest.

"You keep blushing," he observed, a hint of satisfaction in his tone.

"You keep staring," I countered, trying to sound indignant but failing miserably.

His lips curved into a rare smile. "I can't help it. I've waited a long time to have you here with me, without lies or misunderstandings between us."

After lunch, we moved to the living room, settling onto the plush sofa. Without the tension of our previous encounters, conversation flowed easily. Derek told me more about his childhood, about growing up as the heir to the Darkwood Pack, about the weight of expectations. In turn, I shared stories of my own life—growing up with Aaron, my dreams before I understood what being a werewolf truly meant.

Hours passed as we talked, our bodies gradually shifting closer until I was leaning against him, his arm draped casually around my shoulders. It felt right, as if we had done this countless times before.

As evening approached, I realized with a start that I hadn't thought about practical matters at all. "Derek," I said suddenly, interrupting his story. "I just realized—I didn't bring any clothes or... anything, really. I just followed you without thinking."

A mischievous glint appeared in Derek's eyes. "Are you saying you don't know how to shower without clothes? I could help you with that."

My face burned at his teasing. "Stop it," I muttered, pushing lightly against his chest. "I'm serious. What am I supposed to wear?"

Derek chuckled, the sound warming me from within. "You can borrow something of mine for now. Tom will deliver your things tomorrow."

"Go take your shower," he said gently. "There are fresh towels in the bathroom. I'll find you something to wear."

---

The hot water was blissful, washing away the tension of the past days. When I emerged wrapped in a towel, I found a neatly folded white button-down shirt laid out on the bed. I hesitated, then slipped it on, the soft fabric engulfing me. The shirt reached mid-thigh, long enough to be decent but short enough to make me self-conscious.

More than the length, though, it was the scent that affected me—that distinctive mixture of cedar and leather that was uniquely Derek. Wearing his shirt felt strangely intimate, as if I was wrapped in his embrace. Would he mind me wearing it? The thought made me nervous, despite everything we'd been through.

I padded barefoot through the villa, searching for Derek. The evening had cooled, and I found him standing on the balcony, a cigarette between his fingers as he gazed out at the darkening forest. His broad shoulders were silhouetted against the sunset, and for a moment, I simply watched him, struck by how alone he seemed despite his strength.

Without thinking, I moved behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek against his back. I felt him stiffen momentarily before relaxing into my touch.

Derek extinguished his cigarette and turned to face me, his amber eyes reflecting the golden light of the setting sun. His gaze traveled down, taking in the sight of me in his shirt, and something flickered in his expression—a primal satisfaction that made my heart race.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked softly, suddenly shy under his intense scrutiny.

His lips curved into a slight smile. "Nothing," he replied, but his eyes told a different story.

A question that had been weighing on me tumbled out before I could stop it. "I know why you're being so good to me. It's because of the curse, isn't it? Because if you reject me, I'll die. But you can't mark me. I already know that Alexander poisoned me."

Derek's expression grew serious. He cupped my face in his large hands, his touch unexpectedly gentle. "You cannot die. I will never let you die."

The raw emotion in his voice left me breathless. In that moment, I knew with absolute certainty what I felt for this man—this wolf who had once seemed so cold and unreachable.

"I love you, soul bond," I whispered, the words coming from the deepest part of me.

Derek's thumb traced my lower lip, his eyes darkening as he leaned toward me. But just before our lips met, he turned his head slightly, as if fighting an internal battle with his wolf.

"The second night after you signed the marriage contract," he said, his voice rough with restrained emotion, "at Darkwood Estate, you said you hated me. Did you truly find my kisses and touches repulsive?"