I Married a Cold Alpha and Turned Him into My Puppy

Lady Maeve Voss did not inspect me.

She hugged me.

"Oh, look at you!" She held me at arm's length in the foyer, her silver bracelets jangling. "Garrick, look at her. Those cheekbones. That chin. She looks like she could bite a man's head off."

"She nearly did," Garrick said flatly.

"Good." Maeve hooked her arm through mine. "Come. I want to see the ring."

She dragged me into a sitting room full of velvet chairs. She tugged my wedding band off, frowned at it, and snapped her fingers at a maid.

"Bring my box. The blue one."

"Mother," Dorian said from the doorway. "That ring was fine."

"That ring was boring. Like you." She slid an old sapphire onto my finger and sighed. "There. That was my grandmother's. She once broke a rival Alpha's nose at a dinner party."

I grinned. "I like her already."

"You would. You kissed my son in front of two hundred wolves." Maeve turned to the three maids hovering by the door. "Did you hear? She grabbed him by the tie. Beautiful *and* brave. Finally."

Dorian crossed his arms. "Some of us found it inappropriate."

"Some of us?" I asked.

"It wasn't dignified." His gray eyes slid to me, cool and pointed. "A Luna should have more shame."

The room went quiet.

Maeve set down the jewelry box very gently. That was worse than slamming it.

"Dorian Alaric Voss."

He flinched. The Alpha of an entire pack actually flinched.

"Your wife kissed you first," Maeve said, "because she is braver than you. Not because she has no shame. Say that word to her again and I'll ask her to slap you."

"She already did," Garrick muttered.

Maeve's face lit up. "She *didn't*."

"She did," Dorian said through his teeth.

His mother laughed until she had to wipe her eyes.

---

Garrick didn't laugh. He found me in the hallway afterward, arms folded, blocking my path like a wall with opinions.

"You should be careful, Luna."

"About what?"

"You walked into this house and took it in an hour." His voice stayed low. "Your father's pack already thinks this marriage gives them a foothold. If you start running the Voss household too, people will say Calloway owns us now."

"So I should be quieter."

"You should be smaller."

I looked him up and down. "You first."

His nostrils flared. He stepped aside without another word.

---

Dinner was a disaster by the second course.

Dorian's father sat at the head of the table, silent and gray. Maeve talked about the gardens. Then Garrick said, while cutting his steak, "The east garden should be paved over. Nobody's used it in twenty years."

Maeve's fork stopped.

Nobody moved. A servant froze with a water pitcher tipped halfway. Dorian stared at his plate like it held state secrets.

I'd walked past that garden on the way in. Dead roses. One stone bench, swept clean. Someone swept it every single day.

"Lady Maeve," I said, "who planted the roses?"

Her eyes flicked to me. Wet at the edges.

"My mother."

"Then I'm not letting anyone pave it." I turned to Garrick. "But I'll need help replanting. Big strong Beta. Good with a shovel?"

Garrick's jaw worked. He glanced at Maeve's face, and whatever he saw there took the fight out of him.

"I'm sorry, Lady Maeve," he said quietly. "I didn't think."

"No," Maeve said. Then, to my shock, she smiled at me. "You'll dig in the dirt with her, Garrick. In a suit, I think. Tomorrow."

The servant finally poured the water. Somebody exhaled.

Under the table, Dorian's knee bumped mine. Just once. I couldn't tell if it was an accident.

---

Garrick caught me on the terrace after dinner. He handed me a glass of brandy I hadn't asked for.

"You notice things," he said.

"It's a hobby."

"Then notice this." He leaned on the railing. "When Dorian was seven, the Harrow Pack took him. Snatched him from the woods right out there. They kept him for four days."

My glass stopped halfway up.

"We got him back," Garrick went on. "But he wouldn't let anyone touch him. Not his mother. Not me. He'd scream if someone brushed his sleeve. So his father made rules. Meals at six. Training at seven. Who could hug him, and when, and for how long. Rules made him feel safe."

"And he never stopped."

"He never stopped." Garrick looked at me. "That contract isn't a joke to him, Luna. It's the only lock he knows how to use."

I stared into the dark, at the woods where a little boy had once disappeared.

He wasn't made of ice.

He'd built himself a cage and called it discipline.

---

That night, Dorian's things were in the guest room.

I carried his pillow back to the master bedroom and dropped it on the bed.

"You sleep here," I said.

"Separate rooms are better for pack stability."

"Pack stability doesn't live in our bedroom. Get in."

He got in. He lay on his back like a wooden plank, hands folded on his stomach, eyes on the ceiling.

I rolled onto my side, facing him. His scent was everywhere, cedar and warm skin. His throat moved.

"You're breathing funny," I whispered.

"I'm breathing normally."

"You're breathing like a man doing math."

Then I felt it. The blanket shifted. Something about him had very clearly woken up.

He turned his back to me so fast the mattress bounced.

"Dorian," I said sweetly. "Do you need a doctor?"

"I need space."

It came out rough. Real. Not a rule, just a man asking.

So I scooted back to my side. "Okay. Space."

He went still. Maybe waiting for me to push.

"Relax," I said, smiling into the dark. "I won't report your secret to the butler."

A long pause.

Then, very quietly, the ice cracked. He laughed.

---

Within a week, I knew every servant by name. Hilde in the kitchen. Tomas the gardener. Pip, the nervous maid who only ever talked to the cat. We tore the heavy curtains out of the dining room, painted the walls yellow, and dragged in a long wooden table where everyone could sit.

On Friday, Dorian came down to breakfast and stopped dead.

"Where is my coffee?"

"Hilde made the Luna cinnamon rolls," Pip said. "The coffee's… after."

"After what?"

"After the Luna," Tomas said, not looking up.

Dorian turned to his mother. "Did you approve the yellow?"

"I love the yellow."

He turned to Garrick. Garrick had dirt under his nails from the rose garden.

"Don't look at me," Garrick said. "She gave me the good shovel."

Dorian sat down slowly, a stranger in his own house.

"I'm the Alpha," he said.

"Sure, honey," Maeve said, and passed me the jam.

---

That night, he knocked on the bedroom door. He'd never knocked before.

"There's a lake cabin," he said. "Two hours north. I thought…" He cleared his throat. "If you wanted. We could go. This weekend."

I blinked. "Is this a request?"

"It's an invitation."

"Did you write it down first?"

His ears went pink.

We left Saturday morning. We stopped at a little diner near the lake, and for once Dorian held the door for me without checking a clock.

Then a voice came from the corner booth. Warm. Lazy. Terribly familiar.

"Briar Calloway. You cut your hair."

My blood ran cold.

Soren.

He stood slowly, that same crooked grin on his face, his eyes sliding past me to the Alpha at my side.

"And you brought a bodyguard," he said. "Cute."

Dorian's hand closed around my wrist. Not a rule. Not a request.

A claim.