I Married a Rogue, So Why Is My Family Kneeling to Him

"It’s just an administrative glitch," Brock said, his voice rising an octave as he tapped violently on the screen of his communicator. "The Northern quarter resets its supply logs at the end of every season. The system probably flagged Silver Pine by mistake during a server sync."

My father let out a long, ragged exhale, gripping the edge of the dining table until his knuckles went white. "A system error. Of course. That makes sense. The High Command wouldn't freeze our permits without an official tribunal hearing first." He looked up at Brock, his expression shifting from terror to desperate expectation. "Brock, you have direct clearance with the intake office. Call them. Use your connection to Alpha King Kieran Vale and clear this up before the pack elders catch wind of it."

"I will," Brock lied smoothly, straightening his collar though a bead of sweat tracked down his temple. "I’ll reach out to the High Alpha’s personal adjutant after breakfast. One word from my division head and this whole suspension will vanish."

Talia let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, sinking back into her chair. She turned her head toward me, her eyes narrowing as she took in my silent posture at the end of the table.

"Look at her," Talia sneered, crossing her arms. "Not a single word. Our entire pack’s winter supply line is on the line, and you sit there sipping water like none of this matters."

I set my glass down without making a sound. "What do you want me to say, Talia?"

"I bet your rogue mate told you some sob story about how unfair the Northern high ranks are, didn't he?" She tossed her hair over her shoulder, a spiteful smirk curling her lips. "Is that what this is? Is he jealous that Brock actually works for the King while he’s stuck watching empty dirt? You probably went running to him last night to whine about how successful my mate is."

My mother clicked her tongue in agreement. "Don't bother with her, Talia. People who settle for less always resent those who aim high. Brock, finish your eggs, dear. Then make that call to the capital."

I picked up a piece of toast and didn't utter a word of correction.

They wanted so badly to believe their golden future was secured by a low-level guard's imaginary influence. I wasn't going to spoil their illusion—not when the cold reality was going to crush them soon enough.

***

By nine that evening, the main house had finally grown quiet.

My lower back throbbed with a dull ache, and my feet felt heavy, swollen from carrying five months of pregnancy up and down the steep attic stairs. Knowing my mother wouldn't allow me into the main medicine cabinet without an interrogation, I slipped out the back door and crossed the shadowed gravel path to Grandma Evelyn’s detached apothecary shed.

The wooden door gave a familiar, low creak as I pushed it open. The small room smelled of dried chamomile, crushed lavender, and peppermint hanging from the low rafters.

I reached for the light switch beside the doorframe.

Before my fingers could touch the toggle, a hand reached out of the darkness and closed firmly around my wrist.

A gasp caught in my throat. I pulled back instinctively, but the grip didn't hurt; it was warm, calloused, and entirely unyielding. The scent of crushed pine, winter frost, and rich cedar filled the small space, instantly overriding the herbs.

"You're late," a deep, familiar voice murmured.

The door clicked shut behind me, the lock snapping into place.

My eyes adjusted to the faint moonlight filtering through the dusty windowpanes. Kieran was sitting on the edge of Grandma's heavy wooden workbench, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He wore a plain black tactical sweater, devoid of any royal crests or golden rank pins, but the raw authority rolling off him made the small shed feel suffocatingly narrow.

"Kieran?" I whispered, my heart thumping against my ribs. "What are you doing here? You promised me three days. You said you'd stay in the capital until the weekend."

"I lied," he said simply.

He stood up, towering over me in the shadows. He reached out, his thumb lightly tracing the line of my jaw before tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

"I brought one scout," Kieran continued, his voice dropping into that low, quiet register he used only when we were alone. "No royal convoy. No armored transports. Silver Pine's border patrols are so sloppy we walked right through the eastern tree line without triggering a single tripwire."

"You risked coming into another pack's territory unannounced?" I stared at him in disbelief. "If the regional council sees you sneaking around a minor territory, the rumors—"

"I don't give a damn about the council," he cut in, stepping closer until my back lightly brushed against the wooden door. His dark eyes scanned my face, searching every inch of me with relentless intensity. "I spent twelve hours in that empty bedroom. Your side of the mattress was cold. I couldn't smell you, and I couldn't focus on a single piece of paperwork on my desk. So I got in a truck and drove."

A sharp warmth bloomed in my chest, threatening to melt the guarded walls I had built up since returning home.

His gaze dropped downward, moving past my sweater to the hem of my skirt and my bare ankles resting inside thin cotton slippers. His brow furrowed instantly.

"Your ankles are swollen," he noted, his tone suddenly clipped and protective.

"It's just the walk up the attic stairs," I said quickly, trying to step backward. "Grandma didn't have room in the main—"

Before I could finish the sentence, Kieran bent down, hooked his arm behind my knees, and lifted me effortlessly into the air.

"Kieran, put me down!" I hissed.

He ignored me completely. Turning around, he set me down on the smooth wooden surface of the workbench. Before I could pull my legs back, he stepped between my knees and dropped onto one knee on the dusty floorboards.

The High Alpha of the entire Northern realm was kneeling in the dirt of an old apothecary shed.

"Kieran, stop, the floor is filthy—"

"Be quiet, Maeve."

He took my left foot in his large hands, sliding off the cheap slipper and tossing it aside. His thumbs pressed into the arch of my foot, applying firm, even pressure before sliding upward to knead the tight muscles of my calf.

A quiet sigh escaped my lips despite myself. The tension that had been building in my legs all day began to uncoil under his touch. He pushed the hem of my long skirt up past my knees to reach the tight cords of my lower leg, his touch steady, warm, and thorough.

"You're sleeping in an attic," Kieran said, not looking up as his fingers worked over my skin. "And you didn't tell me you were having swelling."

"It only started this morning," I murmured, resting my hands on his broad shoulders. "It's normal for this stage. You didn't need to drive halfway across the continent for a cramp."

"I decide what I need to do for my mate," he answered roughly.

Suddenly, the crunch of gravel sounded outside the shed.

Footsteps approached the wooden porch.

"Maeve?" Talia's sharp, impatient voice called out from just beyond the thin door. "Are you in there? Why is the shed door locked?"

My blood ran cold.

If Talia saw the Alpha King kneeling on the floor of our grandmother's shed, the entire facade would blow apart before I was ready to leave.

Without thinking, I leaned forward and clamped my hand directly over Kieran’s mouth, using my other hand to shove his shoulder back into the deep shadow cast by the drying racks.

The ruler who held the power of life and death over twelve territories looked up at me with dark, amused eyes, trapped beneath my palm in the dark.

The brass doorknob rattled aggressively.

"Maeve!" Talia snapped, pounding her fist against the wood. "Did you take the keys to the pantry? Dad wants the good whiskey to celebrate Brock's promotion, and we can't find the spare set!"

Kieran didn't pull away. Instead, he kept his eyes locked on mine, parted his lips slightly, and pressed a slow, warm kiss right into the center of my palm.

The sudden sensation sent a jolt straight down my spine. I had to bite my lower lip hard to keep a gasp from slipping out into the quiet shed.

"Maeve? Are you deaf?" Talia demanded through the wood.

I cleared my throat, forcing my voice to sound completely calm and annoyed. "I'm looking for peppermint tea for Grandma. I don't have the whiskey keys. Check Dad's desk."

A heavy silence lingered on the porch. For two seconds, I thought she was going to peer through the grime on the window.

"Ugh, useless," Talia muttered. Her heavy footsteps turned and crunched back across the gravel toward the house until the screen door slammed shut in the distance.

I let out a long breath and pulled my hand back from Kieran's mouth.

"You're impossible," I whispered, my heart still racing against my ribs. "You need to leave. Right now. If my father sees your truck near the perimeter, they'll call the town guard."

Kieran rose smoothly to his feet, closing the distance between us until his chest pressed against my knees. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive shell of my ear, his deep voice vibrating straight into my bones.

"I crossed three territories to get to you," he whispered darkly. "I'm not leaving before sunrise."