Chained By the Alpha (Cleo and Zayn) novel Chapter 8

• Zayn •

Waking up to the first rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains, I turn to find Cleo still asleep beside me. Her face is soft and relaxed, her features smooth and free of any tension. Her long lashes fan gently against her cheeks, framing her closed eyes.

Her lips are slightly parted, her eyelids fluttering gently in her slumber, and I want so desperately to kiss her. I feel a twinge of regret for how things escalated last night, knowing how my rejection upset her. It’s not that I didn’t want her. Quite the opposite. I want all of her. Not the semi-drunk version of her trying to escape an arranged marriage.

I want her when she feels comfortable and safe with me.

I slip out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake her, and head downstairs to prepare breakfast. The silence of the house is heavy as I make my way to the kitchen, Cleo occupying my mind.

As I start preparing some eggs and toast, I remember the way she looked last night when I rejected her advances. Her eyes filled with hurt and disappointment, and I hate that I caused her pain.

I know Cleo will be embarrassed about last night, and I rack my brain for ways to reassure her, to ease the awkwardness between us. However, before I can come up with a plan, she walks into the kitchen, still wearing my shirt from last night.

Her hair is tousled from sleep, giving her an adorable bedhead look. She stares at me tentatively, unsure of how to act around me after what happened.

“Good morning,” she says softly, avoiding eye contact.

“Morning, I hope you slept well.”

“I did. Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Of course,” I say sincerely. “You’re always welcome here.”

We stand in uncomfortable silence for a few moments before I break the tension. “Coffee?”

She nods, avoiding my gaze, her movements stiff and cautious. I hand her a cup of coffee, trying to gauge her mood.

“So, what do you want to do today?” I ask, attempting to sound casual.

She takes a sip of her coffee, still not meeting my eyes. “Is your offer to help put up missing signs for Deacon still on the table?” she asks, her voice almost a whisper.

I nod, hiding my surprise at her request. “Of course. Have you got a picture of him?”

She nods. I cringe on the inside, especially after last night. Searching for her prick of a boyfriend, who is currently a popsicle in my freezer is the last thing I want to do, yet I will if it means spending the day with her.

“Have you got a printer? I’m sure I can find a template online for a missing poster.” I give her a tight smile and point her in the direction of my office while I finish making breakfast. She wanders off, and I take a deep breath. Why does she want to find Deacon? Is she hoping to reconcile with him? Or is it simply closure she seeks?

Regardless, I can’t deny her request.

“I’m not Boyd’s either, yet that won’t stop him, at least this way I get some say in it, I rather Deacon than Boyd,” she whispers. “At least I know him,” she adds, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. I need to find a way to help her, to protect her from this arranged marriage and from Deacon. But first, I need to break through the walls she’s put up, to get her to open up to me.

“Let’s go put up these posters,” I say, offering her a small smile. “And we’ll figure out the rest together. Just don’t make any choices that are forced, Cleo, you have time.”

Cleo laughs softly. “Time? What time? The moment I shift, my father will force my hand or force me to stand down! If I don’t find Deacon, I will be forced to marry Boyd, nothing I do will stop that.”

“Then I’ll mark you,” I blurt before I can stop myself. She blinks..

“That’s not funny, especially after last night. Especially with you having sired my wolf. Don’t play games with me, Zayn,” she snarls, shoving past me, only I grab her arm, swinging her back to me and pressing her against the counter.

“I’m not playing games.” I growl, unable to keep the anger from my voice.

“You don’t fuck with unshifted she-wolves, you said it yourself,” she jabs my chest with her finger, and I capture her hand. “Don’t fucking toy with me just because you sired my wolf. Don’t play with my damn emotions, Zayn! I’m jailbait, you said it yourself.”

“And yet, I would gladly rot in a prison cell for you until you get your wolf.” Cleo bites her lip, trying to avoid my gaze. She thinks I’m playing around, I’m not. How does she not see that?

I force her gaze back to mine, pressing closer, so our bodies are flush against each other, her soft curves pressing against the bulk of my muscle. “Do you not hear your own words, Cleo? You said it yourself, I don’t fuck with unshifted she-wolves, yet I can’t seem to stay away from you. I’m already breaking all my own rules. What’s one more?” I whisper.