Mated by Contract to the Alpha Chapter 85

Rebecca's POV

He returned to my bedside, sitting on the edge of the mattress. His fingers traced my face, following the curve of my cheek, the line of my jaw, careful to avoid the bruise. Then his hand drifted lower, to the pulse point at my neck, where I knew he could feel my heartbeat racing.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his eyes fixed on mine.

"Not anymore," I whispered truthfully. The pain medication dulled the worst of it, and his touch seemed to make everything else fade away.

Dominic leaned forward, pressing his lips to my forehead, then to each eyelid, the tip of my nose, and finally, gently, to my lips. The kiss was tender at first, almost reverent, but quickly deepened into something more primal. His hand slid beneath the hospital gown, warm against my skin.

"We shouldn't," I breathed against his mouth, even as my body arched toward his touch.

"Tell me to stop," he challenged, his fingers tracing patterns on my thigh.

I couldn't. I didn't want to. Instead, I pulled him closer, my fingers tangling in his hair.

Dominic moved down my body, his lips trailing fire across my skin. He was careful of my injuries, his touch firm but gentle as he pushed the hospital gown higher. When his mouth reached the inside of my thigh, I gasped, clutching the sheets.

"Quiet, little doe," he murmured against my skin. "Unless you want the entire floor to hear how I make you feel."

I bit my lip as his tongue found my center, my hips bucking involuntarily. He held me down with one large hand splayed across my stomach, the other teasing and stroking in concert with his mouth. I'd never experienced anything so intense—the combination of his skilled ministrations and the forbidden nature of our location heightening every sensation.

"Dominic," I panted, feeling the pressure building. "I can't—"

"Let go," he commanded, his voice vibrating against me. "Come for me, Rebecca."

The wave crashed over me, and I muffled my cry with my hand, my body trembling with the force of my release. Through half-lidded eyes, I watched as Dominic raised his head, satisfaction and possession burning in his gaze.

"You are mine, Rebecca," he said, the words both a statement and a promise. "Mine."

In that moment, vulnerable and sated, I believed him. I wanted to be his, completely and irrevocably. But as he moved up to kiss me again, his phone buzzed in his pocket, shattering the intimate bubble we'd created.

Dominic pulled back slightly, straightening my gown with careful hands before retrieving his phone. His expression shifted subtly as he glanced at the screen. He looked at me, then walked to the window, speaking quietly.

"Mother, I know..." His voice was low, controlled. "Yes, I'm aware of the situation... No, that won't be necessary... I'll handle it."

I watched his broad shoulders tense beneath his shirt, the rigid set of his spine telling me more than his words. Whatever the conversation entailed, it wasn't pleasant.

When he returned to my side, his expression was carefully neutral. "I need to go," he said, smoothing my damp hair away from my face. "Pack business. I'll return tomorrow."

"Okay," I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

He kissed my forehead again, his lips lingering. "Rest. Take your medication. The nurses have instructions to call me if there's any change."

After he left, I stared at the ceiling, feeling tears prick the corners of my eyes. The door hadn't even closed behind him when the first one slid down my temple, disappearing into my hair.

I wasn't crying from physical pain. I was crying because I'd fallen hopelessly, stupidly in love with a man who could never truly be mine. The more attentive he was, the more he showed me glimpses of tenderness behind his dominant exterior, the deeper I fell. And the harder it would be when reality finally asserted itself.

I was human. He was the future Alpha of Silver Moon Shadow. I was a temporary contract, a convenient distraction. And despite all my promises to myself, all my determination to guard my heart after William's betrayal, I'd gone and given it to someone whose world would never have a permanent place for me.

I pulled the thin hospital blanket over my face, muffling my sobs. I didn't cry because I was hurt or weak. I cried because I was clear-eyed enough to see the truth, and still foolish enough to love him anyway.

---

I must have dozed off, because when I next opened my eyes, the room was bathed in afternoon light. A gentle knock at the door roused me fully.

"Come in," I called, quickly wiping away any lingering tears.

The door opened to reveal Professor Adrian Lane, looking casually elegant in dark jeans and a forest green button-down that emphasized his lean frame. He carried a bouquet of cheerful yellow sunflowers—a stark contrast to Dominic's formal white lilies.

"Professor Lane," I said, genuinely surprised.

"Please, it's Adrian when we're not in class," he reminded me with a warm smile. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything? The timing seems interesting—Mr. Sterling just departed not long ago, from what I gather."

My eyes widened. "How did you know that?"

Adrian's smile turned slightly amused. "There are photographers camped outside. Apparently, the future Alpha of Silver Moon Shadow makes for interesting news these days."

He placed the sunflowers in an empty vase on the windowsill, arranging them with an artist's eye. "These seemed more your style than formal arrangements. Sunflowers always face toward the light—resilient, like you."

The thoughtfulness of the gesture touched me. "Thank you. They're beautiful."

Adrian took the seat beside my bed, his posture relaxed but his gaze attentive. "I brought something else as well." He reached into a messenger bag and pulled out a small, beautifully wrapped box. "Your mug turned out exceptionally well—better than expected, actually."

I took the package, carefully unwrapping it to reveal the small clay bowl I'd made at the pottery demonstration. It had been glazed in shades of blue and green that swirled together like ocean waves. Despite its amateur craftsmanship, there was something oddly beautiful about it—organic and imperfect.

"This is..." I trailed off, unexpectedly moved by seeing my creation transformed.

"Your first finished piece," Adrian completed, his voice gentle. "Everyone remembers their first."

I ran my fingers over the smooth glaze, noting how the colors shifted in the light. "I can't believe this came from that lump of clay."

"You have natural talent," he said. "Which is why I hope this hospital stay won't interrupt your studies for long."

"It’s just a minor injury," I replied. "I'll be back in class next week."

Adrian nodded, studying me with those perceptive eyes that seemed to see more than I wanted to reveal. "Dominic Sterling," he said thoughtfully. "I see he takes a special interest in you."

I tensed slightly, setting the bowl aside. "It's not what you think. We're not—I mean, I'm just—"

"A human," Adrian finished for me, surprising me into silence.

We stared at each other for a long moment. I wasn't sure what to say, how much he knew, or what his own position was in the complex hierarchy of Silver Moon Shadow.

"I can see he matters to you," Adrian finally said, his voice softer. "And you clearly matter to him."

I shook my head. "I'm nobody special. Just an ordinary person who happened to cross paths with him."

Adrian leaned forward slightly, his expression earnest. "Rebecca, in all the time I've known you—which admittedly isn't long—you've never struck me as ordinary."

He reached out as if to touch my hand, then seemed to think better of it, pulling back. "I can see something's troubling you. I recognize that look—the pain that has nothing to do with physical injuries."

I swallowed hard, looking away. How could he read me so easily when we barely knew each other?

"Some people's worlds are incredibly complex," he continued. "Even when they want to give you everything, there are often factors beyond their control. Expectations. Traditions. Family pressures."

My head snapped up. "How do you know about that?"

Adrian smiled, but there was a tinge of sadness in it. "I've lived in this city a long time. I understand power dynamics and family legacies. The Sterling family is beautiful from the outside—like a magnificent palace. But palaces can also be prisons for those who live inside them."

His insight was uncanny, and I found myself unable to maintain my usual guardedness. "He has responsibilities I can't even imagine. A future I'm not part of."

"Perhaps," Adrian conceded. "Or perhaps he's struggling with expectations that no longer serve him."

He stood, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag. "I should let you rest. But I wanted you to know something." His eyes met mine, direct and unwavering. "When you find yourself needing to escape that world—needing someone who can appreciate your talent without the complications of pack politics—I'll be here."

I stared at him, caught off guard by the subtle offer beneath his words.

"I'm not like him," Adrian continued, his voice gentle but firm. "I don't have his power or position. But I can promise you one thing that perhaps he cannot—with me, you would always be an equal. Not a contract. Not a possession."