Chapter 18 - Articus

Articus stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of his study, a crystal tumbler of aged scotch dangling from his fingers. The amber liquid caught the late afternoon sunlight, creating golden reflections on the polished mahogany desk behind him.

His ice-blue eyes scanned the lush forest that surrounded the house. His mind, however, was far from the serene scene before him.

I've fallen for her. Hard.

The realization had been creeping up on him for days, maybe even weeks. But now, as he stood there thinking about Wren, there was no denying it anymore. The way she smiled, the sound of her laughter, the fierce determination in her hazel eyes when she set her mind to something—all of it had wormed its way into his heart.

But with that realization came a crushing wave of guilt. Wren hadn't chosen this life. She hadn't chosen him. She was here because he had bought her, rescued her from a terrible fate, yes, but still—she had no real choice in the matter.

Am I any better than those who would have sold her if I'm keeping her here against her will?

Articus took a long swig of his drink, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat. The expensive liquor did little to soothe the turmoil in his mind. He was dressed in his usual attire—a crisp white button-down shirt and tailored black slacks. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his muscular forearms.

Articus ran a hand through his white hair, frustration etching lines on his face. The scent of pine and earth wafted through the open window, a reminder of the freedom just beyond these walls—a freedom that Wren might be longing for.

He wanted nothing more than to go to Wren, to tell her how he felt, to ask her to be his mate in truth, not just in name. But how could he? How could he put that pressure on her when she might feel obligated to say yes?

He turned away from the window, his blue eyes scanning the room without really seeing it. As Alpha, he was supposed to protect people, to lead with wisdom and fairness. But here he was, selfishly wanting to keep Wren for himself, even if it meant limiting her freedom.

I'm holding her back. She deserves better than this.

Draining the last of his scotch, Articus set the glass down with a soft clink. He left his office, his Italian leather shoes silent on the hardwood floors as he moved through the house. The scent of garlic and herbs led him to the kitchen, where Wren was preparing dinner.

She stood at the granite countertop, her lithe body moving with a grace that caught his eye, her light brown hair pulled back in a messy bun, a few strands escaping to frame her face. She wore a simple white tank top that hugged her curves and faded jeans that rode low on her hips.

He leaned against the doorframe, content for a moment just to watch her. Wren hummed softly as she chopped vegetables, her hazel eyes focused on the task at hand. There was a smudge of flour on her cheek, and Articus felt an overwhelming urge to brush it away.

"Need any help?" he asked, his deep voice cutting through the sizzle of oil in a pan and the rhythmic sound of a knife on a cutting board.

“If I sent Martha away, what makes you think I want yours?” Wren looked up, a smile lighting her face when she saw him.

Ouch!

“Well, if she hasn’t told you, I will,” Articus puffed up his chest. “I make the best boiled eggs this side of the mountain.”

The kitchen lights caught the gold flecks in her hazel eyes, making them sparkle as she laughed. "I've got it under control, but you're welcome to keep me company, egg master."

Articus moved into the kitchen, settling himself on a stool at the counter. He watched as Wren continued her preparations, admiring the confidence with which she moved around the space. It was as if she belonged there, as if this had always been her kitchen.

But it's not her choice to be here.

The thought struck him again, souring the warmth he felt watching her.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Wren's voice broke through his musings.

Articus blinked, realizing he'd been frowning. He forced a smile. "Just thinking about pack business. Nothing important."

Wren raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but she didn't push. Instead, she changed the subject, telling him about a book she'd been reading.

Articus listened, cherishing the animated way she spoke, the passion in her voice as she described the story. Her free hand gestured expressively, nearly knocking over a bottle of olive oil.

This is what I want. Every day. But does she?

As Wren turned back to the stove, Articus made a decision.

"Wren," he said, his voice softer than he intended. She turned, a questioning look in her eyes, a strand of hair falling across her face. "Would you like to go out tomorrow night? There's a place I'd like to show you."

The smile that spread across her face made his heart skip a beat. "I'd love to," she said, and for a moment, Articus let himself believe that her enthusiasm was genuine.

***

The next evening found Articus standing in front of his closet, scrutinizing his wardrobe with an intensity usually reserved for pack negotiations. The soft glow of recessed lighting illuminated rows of tailored suits, crisp shirts, and polished shoes. He wanted to look good for Wren.

He pushed the thought away, finally settling on a deep blue button-down shirt and dark jeans. Casual, but not too casual. He ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and headed downstairs to meet Wren.

She was waiting for him in the foyer. Wren wore a simple sundress in a soft peach color that complemented her tan skin. The fabric hugged her curves before flowing out at her hips, ending just above her knees.

Her light brown hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, framing an oval face with a gentle jawline. Her skin held a natural, sun-kissed glow, and her lips, full and naturally pink, curved into a warm smile.A delicate gold necklace adorned her neck, catching the light with every movement of her slender figure.

"You look beautiful," Articus said, his voice husky with emotion. The scent of her perfume—something light and floral—wafted toward him, making his heart race.

A faint blush colored Wren's cheeks. "You clean up pretty well yourself," she replied, her tone teasing.

Articus offered her his arm, feeling the warmth of her skin as she looped her arm through his. Together, they walked out to his car. Articus had chosen the Range Rover for today, the leather seats were cool against their skin as they settled in, the engine purring to life with a turn of the key.

As he drove them out of the pack lands and into the surrounding countryside, Articus stole glances at Wren. She was looking out the window, a small smile playing on her lips as she watched the scenery pass by. The setting sun painted the sky in brilliant hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over her features.

She’s so beautiful. I want her all to myself.

After about thirty minutes, he turned onto a narrow dirt track that wound up into the hills. Wren looked at him questioningly, but he just smiled and kept driving. The Rover handled the uneven terrain smoothly, barely jostling its occupants.

Finally, they reached their destination. Articus parked the car and came around to open Wren's door. The scent of pine and wildflowers filled the air, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves overhead.

"We'll have to walk a little bit from here," he said, offering his hand to help her out.

They hiked up a short, steep trail, Articus keeping a careful eye on Wren to make sure she didn't slip. When they crested the hill, he heard her gasp.

Before them stretched a picturesque valley, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. A small lake glittered at the center, its surface like molten gold, surrounded by lush forest in various shades of green.

In a clearing near the shore, Articus had set up a picnic blanket—a soft, plush affair in deep red—and a wicker basket.

"Articus, this is... breathtaking," Wren said, her voice filled with awe. Her eyes were wide as she took in the view, her hair gently tousled by the breeze.

He smiled, pleased by her reaction. "I thought you might like it. Shall we?" He gestured toward the picnic setup.

They made their way down to the clearing, where Articus unpacked the basket. He'd prepared all of Wren's favorites—fresh bread, an assortment of cheeses, grapes, and a bottle of chilled white wine.

As they settled onto the blanket, Articus poured the wine into the crystal glasses he'd brought along. The crisp Chardonnay sparkled in the fading light as he handed a glass to Wren. Their fingers brushed during the exchange, sending a jolt of electricity through him.

They ate and talked as the sun sank lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the valley. Articus found himself relaxing, drawn in by Wren's warmth and humor. She told him stories of her childhood, of the mischief she would get into with her Dad, and tried to recreate her mom’s scowl.

This feels so right. So perfect.

But even as he thought it, doubt crept in. Was Wren truly enjoying herself, or was she just making the best of her situation?

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the hills, Articus lit a small lantern he'd brought. The soft glow illuminated Wren's face, highlighting the curve of her cheek and the fullness of her lips. Without thinking, he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Wren's breath caught at his touch, her eyes meeting his. In the soft lantern light, he could see the flecks of green and gold in her hazel eyes, giving them a mesmerizing depth. Her long lashes cast delicate shadows on her cheekbones, and a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose became visible.

The air between them seemed to crackle with tension. His fingers lingered on her skin, tracing the delicate line of her jaw. Slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away, Articus leaned in.

Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss. Wren's hand came up to rest on his chest, and Articus cupped her face gently, deepening the kiss. He poured all his conflicted emotions into it—his love, his desire, his guilt, his fear.

He could taste the sweetness of the wine on her lips, mixed with something uniquely Wren. When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Articus rested his forehead against hers.

"Wren, I..." he began, the words he'd been holding back all evening on the tip of his tongue.

I love you. I want you to be my mate, truly and completely.

But he couldn't say it. The weight of their circumstances stopped the words in his throat. Instead, he said, "We should head back. It's getting late."

They packed up in companionable silence, the tension from their kiss still hanging in the air. On the drive home, Wren's hand found his on the gear shift, her fingers intertwining with his. The simple gesture made Articus's heart soar and ache in equal measure.

Back at the house, they lingered in the foyer, neither quite ready for the evening to end. Articus looked down at Wren, drinking in the sight of her. Her lips were still slightly swollen from their kiss, her cheeks flushed.

"Thank you for tonight," Wren said softly. "It was wonderful."

Articus smiled, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "The pleasure was all mine."

Their eyes met, and in that moment, all of Articus's reservations melted away. He pulled Wren to him, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. She responded immediately, her arms winding around his neck as she pressed herself against him.

He could feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of her dress, igniting a fire in his veins.

They stumbled up the stairs to his bedroom, hands roaming, lips barely parting. The sound of their quickened breathing echoed in the quiet hallway.

Articus's bedroom was bathed in soft moonlight, casting a silvery glow over the room, accentuating the tension that hung in the air.

As they entered, Articus’s breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest. He reached out, his fingers trembling as they skimmed along the smooth skin of Wren’s arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Her skin was warm, soft, and inviting under his touch. His hands moved up to cup her face, his thumb gently tracing the curve of her cheekbone, feeling the rapid beat of her pulse beneath.

The tension between them snapped like a taut string, and in the next heartbeat, their lips collided, a hungry, desperate kiss that stole the breath from both their lungs.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, eliciting a soft moan that reverberated through him, spurring his desire to new heights.

His hands roamed over her body, caressing her curves. The sensation of her soft skin under his fingertips was intoxicating, a heady mix of silk and warmth that sent shivers down his spine.

He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down her neck, lingering at the spot where her pulse beat wildly, the rhythmic thrum fueling the fire within him.

Wren's quiet gasps and moans filled the room as he continued his exploration, his mouth, and hands moving in tandem, worshipping every inch of her. Her skin tasted like salt, and the faint scent of her perfume.

He savored every moment, every quiet gasp that escaped her lips, every shiver that ran through her body beneath his touch. The sight of her, flushed and beautiful, surrendering to him with every caress. In that moment, she was his, entirely, undeniably.

But for how long?

When they were both bare, their skin pressed together, the sensation was overwhelming. Articus paused, his gaze searching Wren’s face, looking for any sign of hesitation. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear.

“I want you to touch me,” she gasped, her body arching into him. “I want to feel all of you, Articus.”

His hand trailed down her body, parting her folds and teasing her clit, his touch both gentle and possessive. “Like this?” he murmured, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

“Yes,” she moaned, her hips lifting off the bed, seeking more contact. “Please, don’t stop.”

He complied, his fingers sliding into her pussy, finding her slick and ready. Wren’s breath caught, her hands clutching at the sheets as he stroked, each movement sending waves of pleasure through her body.

He paused, taking in the sight of her lying beneath him, her eyes half-lidded with desire, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths.

Her lithe body arched gracefully, the smooth curve of her back a stark contrast to the rumpled sheets. In the moonlight, her skin seemed to glow, highlighting the subtle definition of her muscles and the soft swell of her breasts.

He positioned himself above her, positioning his cock at her entrance, his gaze locked on hers. With a deep groan, he entered her slowly. Wren gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“Oh God, Articus…”

The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them in a cocoon of delight. He slipped into a warmth that enveloped him, pulling him deeper, binding them together in a way that went beyond the physical.

“You feel… incredible,” he rasped, his voice trembling. “So perfect.”

He began to move, setting a slow, steady rhythm, his body pressing hers into the mattress with each thrust. Wren clung to him, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper.

“Faster,” she urged, her voice breathy with need. “Please, Articus… I need more.”

He obeyed, increasing his pace, his thrusts harder, deeper, driving them both closer to the edge. “Is this what you want, Wren?” he growled, his lips brushing against her neck. “Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels… incredible,” she gasped, her body trembling beneath him.

Articus’s grip on her hips tightened as he thrust into her, each stroke a declaration of his desire, his need. Wren’s nails dug into his back, her cries of pleasure all he could hear, and he brought her to the edge again and again, each time savoring the way her body tightened around him, how she shattered beneath him, only to rise again, ready for more.

He lost himself in the sensations, in the feel of her around him, the sound of her breathless gasps, the sight of her flushed skin glowing in the moonlight. It was almost too much, the pleasure bordering on pain as he fought to hold back, wanting to make this last.

His control slipped as her pussy gripped him tighter. “Wren… I can’t… I’m going to…”

“Yes!” she cried out, her body tightening around him, pulling him over the edge with her. “Articus… I’m…”

They climaxed, their bodies shuddering in unison, his cock pulsing inside her until they were both spent and gasping for air.

They collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and racing heartbeats, the sheets twisted around them, slick with sweat and the remnants of their passion.

As they lay there, bodies still intertwined, Wren’s head resting on his chest, Articus felt a sense of peace wash over him, a contentment that was as rare as it was profound. She drifted off to sleep, a contented smile on her face. But sleep eluded Articus.

This is it. This is what I want for the rest of my life.

The thought hit Articus with startling clarity. He wanted to wake up next to Wren every morning, to share his life with her, to build a future together. The words were there again, on the tip of his tongue.

He stared at the ceiling, his mind racing. He imagined what it would be like to have this every night. To build a life with Wren, to raise a family together. He pictured her around with his pups, imagined teaching their children to shift and hunt. The image filled him with a longing so intense it was almost painful.

But it's not fair to her. She didn't choose this.

Articus looked down at Wren, peaceful in sleep. He brushed a gentle kiss against her forehead, his heart aching with the weight of his decision.

I can't tell her. I can't put that pressure on her.

Even if it meant losing her, Articus knew it was the right thing to do. He would rather see her free and happy than bound to him by obligation. It would hurt, but he would endure it for her sake.

With that decision made, Articus finally drifted off to sleep, holding Wren close for what he hoped would not be the last time.