Feral Bonds: Claimed By Rogue Alpha Brothers

Evaline:

My eyes fluttered open slowly. The darkness around me felt unfamiliar at first, though a faint golden glow was flickering nearby - a lone candle burning on the nightstand. The flame barely chased away the shadows in the massive room, but it was enough to cast soft silhouettes across the walls.

The room was filled with warmth, but the warmth surrounding me was different.

And I soon realized why.

Strong arms were wrapped around me from behind, cocooning me in a blanket of safety and comfort. The familiar scent was wrapped around my senses. His heartbeat was thrumming against my back, steady and grounding, and the bond between us was gently pulsing like a second heartbeat inside my chest.

Oscar.

He was awake. I could feel it, not just from the way his thumb was brushing softly against my arm in slow, absent circles, but through the silent awareness humming between us.

I vaguely remembered him carrying me to the bed, and it seemed like I ended up falling asleep while wrapped in his protective embrace.

I shifted slightly under the blanket, just enough for my hand to find his resting on my waist.

"You are awake," he whispered. His voice was low and deep, rumbling behind me like distant thunder on a quiet night.

I turned in his arms, blinking up at him as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. His face came into view, half-cast in candlelight, the other in shadow - yet every inch familiar, every angle painfully beautiful. A soft smile touched his lips.

"It's not even midnight," he said, brushing a strand of hair away from my cheek. "You have only been asleep for half an hour."

"Oh," I murmured, my voice coming out as a whisper of breath. I didn't know why I woke up. Maybe it was the echo of fear lingering from earlier. Or maybe… I just wanted to look at him.

His fingers gently traced over my wrist. "Are you still feeling troubled?"

I paused. My throat tightened with the words I didn't know how to form. But then, seeing the worry swimming in his eyes, I forced a small smile - not forced because I had to fake it, but because I wanted to reassure him.

"I don't want to talk about it yet," I whispered, lowering my gaze. "Not because I don't trust you… I do. More than I ever trusted anyone. I'm just… not strong enough yet to face that part of my life."

I looked up slowly, waiting for his expression to twist in disappointment, or frustration, or worse... pity.

But all he did was nod.

And then he pulled me close again, tucking my head under his chin and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of my head.

"I'll wait," he whispered. "For as long as you need."

Tears pricked my eyes, but I didn't let them fall.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?" he asked, his voice still warm with the gentleness only he and Draven ever showed me. "I'll stay with you until dawn. Promise."

I nodded and buried my face in his chest, trying to find that comfort again, the one that held me so tenderly earlier.

But instead of silence, something else happened.

He began to sing.

Softly. Barely above a hum at first, but with a voice that melted like caramel against my ear. I blinked in surprise and a breathy laugh slipped from my lips as he sang the first couple lines of a lullaby. His voice was deep and soulful, holding more emotion than I could have imagined.

"What are you doing?" I asked, peeking up at him through half-lidded eyes, unable to stop the warmth blooming in my chest.

He smiled, eyes twinkling. "Practicing."

"For what? A singing competition?"

"No." He leaned down, brushing his nose against mine in the softest nuzzle. "I'm practicing to sing lullabies… to our child."

My breath caught.

Our child.

Those words hung in the air, soft but heavy... and the world seemed to tilt slightly under their weight. Tears stung at the back of my eyes, blurring the golden light around his face. It was the first time he had ever called the baby his… ours.

He knew the truth. That the baby wasn't his. That it was never supposed to be his responsibility, or burden, or joy. And yet… here he was. Claiming them as his without a flicker of hesitation.

"I…" I whispered, blinking through the tears I couldn't stop now. "You really mean that?"

His hand moved to rest on my belly. It was the gentlest, softest touch... like he was afraid to break me.

"There's no his or yours when it comes to you and me," he said softly. "If the baby is part of you, then it's part of me too."

The tears slipped free then, hot and quiet. I didn't even try to wipe them away.

He just kissed my forehead again, then continued singing.

His voice filled the quiet, every note tender and full of love I hadn't realized he carried in such depth.

Hush now, little light in the dark,

Safe in the arms that shield your spark.

The night may whisper, the wind may cry,

But I'll be near until stars say goodbye.

Dream of a world where the skies never fall,

Where love builds bridges, strong and tall.

Your heartbeat's music, your breath a song,

In this world of mine, you always belong.

Sleep, my moonbeam, under silver skies,

Mama's love in your soul, in your father's eyes.

And when the morning comes bright and near,

You'll wake to a world where you are held so dear.

By the end of the lullaby, my tears had dried, and something else had taken root inside me. It felt like a strange kind of peace. Not the kind that says everything is fine… but the kind that says, I'm not alone anymore.

I pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he gently held me.

And as I drifted off to sleep once again, I came to a realization.

Sometimes, family wasn't about blood or fate.

Sometimes, it was about the people who stayed.