My Cheating Alpha Found Me in His Rival's Shirt

It was two in the morning when Ronan pulled up to a house tucked deep in the pines.

Firelight glowed behind tall windows. Inside, a fire was already burning, and the whole room smelled like pine sap and smoke.

I took three steps across the white marble floor before I saw the red.

A trail of it. Small, smeared prints, all leading back to the door. My blood.

"Oh God, I'm sorry." I dropped to a crouch and swiped at the nearest spot with the sleeve of his coat. "I'll clean it. Do you have a towel? I'll—"

A hand closed around my wrist.

It wasn't rough. It was firm enough to stop me.

"Leave it," Ronan said.

"It's your floor."

"It's marble. It'll survive." He pulled me gently to my feet and guided me to the leather couch. "Sit."

I sat. He knelt in front of me.

The Alpha of Ironfang, the man people said had torn out a rogue's throat with his bare hands, cupped my calf in his wide palm like it might crack. He turned my ankle toward the firelight. His thumb brushed just above a long cut, careful not to touch it.

"Gravel," he muttered. "You walked the whole North Road like this."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

He didn't smile. His jaw shifted, like he was chewing on something he wouldn't say.

The silence made my skin prickle. So I did what I always did. I joked.

"Are you this sweet to every woman who wanders into your territory, Alpha Blackthorn?"

He didn't lift his head. He just reached for the first aid kit on the side table.

"No woman has ever been in this house."

My heart skipped. One beat, gone, then back.

I stared at the top of his dark head while he cleaned the cut. I didn't flinch at the sting. I barely felt it.

He pressed the last bandage into place and stood. "Bathroom's down the hall. Take a hot shower. I'll make you something to eat."

"You cook?"

"I eat. Cooking's part of that."

---

The bathroom was huge, all gray stone and steam. There was one towel, one bar of soap, and a cedar-scented shampoo. There was nothing soft or floral, nothing that belonged to a woman.

When I cracked the door open, a folded black shirt sat on the floor.

I pulled it on. The hem hit the middle of my thighs. The cuffs swallowed half my hands. The collar was too wide, and it slid off one shoulder no matter how many times I tugged it back.

It smelled like him. Cedar and snow.

My wolf rolled over inside me and sighed.

*Traitor,* I told her.

---

Ronan stood at the stove with his back to me, sleeves pushed to his elbows, flipping eggs.

My bare feet made almost no sound on the floor. He still heard me. He glanced over his shoulder.

And froze.

His eyes traveled from my wet hair down to his own shirt on my body. His throat moved, slow and heavy. The spatula tipped in his grip and clattered against the pan.

Something warm and wicked bubbled up in my chest. I hadn't felt it in years.

I tugged at the hem. "Is it too short?"

He turned and switched off the burner. When he spoke, his voice had dropped half an octave, rougher now.

"It's fine. I just wasn't prepared to see you wearing it."

I almost laughed.

Then I remembered the last time I'd pulled on one of Callum's sweaters. He'd peeled it right off me, frowning.

*Don't wear my clothes, Sienna. You mess up the scent.*

The smile slid off my face.

Ronan watched it go. He didn't ask why. He just poured milk into a mug, set it in front of me, and nudged it closer with two fingers.

"Drink. It's warm."

---

My phone started buzzing before I'd finished half my eggs.

It buzzed once, then again, then again.

I flipped it over.

**Callum: Come home. Now.**

**Callum: Where are you?**

**Callum: Answer me, Sienna.**

**Callum: You think this is funny?**

**Callum: I can smell another male through the bond. WHERE ARE YOU.**

Twelve messages. Thirteen. Then the last one.

**Callum: Brielle is crying because of what you did. You owe her an apology.**

I read it twice.

Then I laughed. It started as a snort and then grew until my shoulders shook and my eyes burned and tears rolled down my cheeks into my eggs.

Ronan didn't say a word. He slid a napkin across the table and left it by my plate.

"Go ahead," I said, wiping my face. "Tell me he's a bastard. Everyone else will."

"You already know what he is." He picked up my empty mug and refilled it. "Do you want somewhere quiet to sleep?"

That was all he asked. He didn't want to know what Callum said or how I felt.

I nodded.

---

The pain woke me at four.

It hit like a fist driving into my ribs and twisting. I gasped and curled onto my side.

I knew this pain. I knew exactly what it meant.

Callum was with her. Right now.

After all of it, after the ring in his glass and the wine on his face, he'd gone straight to her bed.

I dug my nails into my palms until I felt skin split. *Don't make a sound. Don't you dare.*

A sob slipped out anyway.

Footsteps stopped outside the door.

"Sienna." Ronan's voice was low through the wood. "May I come in?"

"I'm fine." My teeth were clenched. "Go back to bed."

"You don't sound fine."

"I said I'm—"

The next wave tore through me. I jerked and rolled right off the mattress, and I hit the floor hard on my hip.

The door flew open.

Ronan was across the room in two strides. He scooped me up like I weighed nothing and laid me back on the bed. One hand flattened against my spine, between my shoulder blades.

Heat poured from his palm. His Alpha presence rolled over me. It didn't push me down. It wrapped around me like a heavy blanket.

"Breathe," he said. "Just breathe with me."

My wolf stopped clawing.

Then the pain dulled, and dulled more, until it was gone.

I stared at him in the dark. "How did you do that?"

"I don't know." His voice was strained. "That shouldn't be possible."

He started to pull back. My hand shot out and fisted in the front of his shirt.

"Don't go," I whispered. "Please. Just... don't."

His whole body went rigid. Something flashed gold in his gray eyes. I heard his wolf growl, deep in his chest, and I felt it through my fingers.

He shut his eyes and exhaled through his nose.

When he opened them, they were gray again.

"I'm not going anywhere."

He sat on the edge of the bed and stayed there.

---

Sunlight woke me.

My cheek was pressed to a warm chest. My arm was thrown across a hard stomach. My leg was hooked over his.

I'd held onto him all night.

Ronan was awake, sitting propped against the headboard. His hand rested on my shoulder, right on top of the shirt. It hadn't moved an inch lower.

"Morning," he said quietly.

My face went hot. "I... I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

The doorbell rang. Then it rang again, over and over, someone leaning on it.

Ronan's head snapped toward the security screen on the wall.

Callum's face filled it. His eyes were bloodshot and his jaw was dark with stubble. He slammed his fist against the door.

"Tell Ronan Blackthorn," he roared into the camera, "to give me back my mate!"