A Rogue For The Quadruplet Alpha's.

Vincent.

A sly, slow smile spread across my face as I looked down at Anabel, watching the way her chest heaved with every unsteady breath. And surprisingly, despite everything, I found myself wanting more of her.

The primal urge was overwhelming; my wolf had long taken complete charge of my body and senses, driving us so fiercely that we had somehow found ourselves on the bed, wrapped in the quiet hum of our shared air.

Anabel immediately turned her face away from looking at me, refusing to meet my gaze as she deliberately rolled onto her side and presented her back to me.

Her sudden, cold withdrawal was a clear attempt to put up a wall between us. But for some reason, I simply didn’t want to let her go. Refusing to grant her the distance she sought, I reached out and wrapped my arm firmly around her waist, pulling her flush against my chest until there was no space left between us.

Lying behind her, I raised my free hand and gently stroked her hair, letting the soft strands slip through my fingers in a slow, almost soothing rhythm.

"Do you want more?" I asked her, my voice dropping to a low whisper right against her nape.

But she kept completely mute. She didn’t move, nor did she utter a single word, and that heavy, defiant silence only served to enrage me. The unspoken rejection poked directly at my wolf’s fragile restraint.

"Don’t tell me you are still thinking of him?" I asked.

The question came out lower than I intended, my voice carrying a dark, unmistakable edge. Jealousy seeped into every word before I could hide it, sharpening my tone into something almost accusing. The mere possibility was enough to ignite a bitter knot deep inside my chest.

Unable to suppress the emotion, I tightened my grip around her waist.

My fingers dug into her side just enough to demand her attention, the subtle pressure born less from anger than from a desperate need for a reaction—any reaction that would prove her thoughts weren’t lingering on someone else.

"Can you just shut up!" she spat back fiercely.

She snapped her head around just enough to glare at me over her shoulder, her eyes blazing with raw fury. Every syllable dripped with venom, striking me with a force that left the air between us suddenly sharp and painfully tense.

Her fiery reaction didn’t push me away; instead, it only excited me further, stoking the dangerous fire burning beneath my skin.

She was fighting back, and my wolf thrived on the challenge. Yet, knowing I was dangerously close to losing all control, I reluctantly released my tight grip on her.

I swung my legs off the bed, stood up, and walked straight over to the large window, needing physical space to clear my head and get a firm hold of myself.

I had far more important things to do right now than just cuddling my mate. I couldn’t afford to get completely lost in her, not when I still desperately needed to prepare for my upcoming wedding with Maria.

Everything had to be flawless. And worst of all, I needed to make sure more invitation letters were drafted and sent out immediately, because the entire timeline had been moved up—the wedding would now be held tomorrow.

I ran a heavy hand through my messy hair, letting out a sharp exhale, and looked up at the moon hanging pale in the night sky. My eyes darkened immediately as the realization hit me.

It was no wonder I wanted my mate more than anything right now. This was that particular, unyielding time of the month where every male Alpha craved their mates with a fierce, ravenous intensity that burned through their blood.

When the moonlight pulled at the inner beast like this, it was totally impossible to resist.

I turned around and looked at my mate, who was still lying still upon the bed, and in an instant, all I could think of was taking her again.

The primal pull of the Alpha bond was violently compelling, urging me to abandon everything else and sink back into her warmth.

But I couldn’t afford to spend the entire day indulging in those reckless desires.

No matter how tempting they were, no matter how fiercely they clawed at the edges of my self-control, there were far more pressing matters demanding my complete attention. I couldn’t allow myself to become consumed by emotions, no matter how powerful they felt in that moment.

I took a slow breath before forcefully shaking my head.

Once, and then again.

As though the simple motion could somehow scatter the haze clouding my thoughts and restore the clarity that had begun slipping away from me. My mind felt dangerously unfocused, caught between reason and impulse, and I desperately needed to regain control before my judgement disappeared entirely.

She is still here, and you have the power to keep her by your side!

The reminder echoed firmly through my mind.

I clung to those words, repeating them inwardly as though they were the only thing capable of anchoring me against the overwhelming urge surging relentlessly through my veins. Every instinct urged me to act without thinking, but I fought to suppress it, forcing myself to hold onto what little restraint remained.

She wasn’t going anywhere, as she was still here and I held all the control.

That thought alone became the fragile thread keeping me grounded.

Yet, despite every attempt to steady myself, a sudden, unexplainable impulse stirred within me.

Before I could question it—or stop myself—I found my feet carrying me back toward the bed. My steps were slow and deliberate as I rounded the edge, finally coming to a stop directly beside her.

For a brief moment, I simply stood there, looking down at her in silence, and then I slowly lowered myself.

My hand rose almost of its own accord before gently cradling the side of her face. My palm rested lightly against her soft skin as my thumb remained still, and with careful tenderness, I tilted her head ever so slightly upward until she was facing me.

"Be good and—"

The words slipped from my lips almost instinctively but before I could finish the sentence, they caught abruptly in my throat as the rest refused to come.

My voice faltered, leaving the unfinished words hanging heavily in the silence between us.

Tears were streaming down her face so steadily, flowing in quiet, unbroken tracks over her pale skin, that I was left wondering how long she had been lying there crying in complete silence.

She hadn’t made a single sound. There were no gasps, no trembling shoulders, no heavy sighs—she hadn’t even sobbed. Just a quiet, devastating waterfall of absolute grief.

And surprisingly, a reaction like this shouldn’t have affected me in the slightest. She was supposed to submit, to accept her place, to bend to my will. Yet, looking at her broken expression, I felt a sudden, sharp, piercing pain strike straight through my heart.

What on earth was wrong with me?

And why was she crying with such deep, unbearable sorrow?

Without even realizing what I was doing, my hand moved on its own. I subconsciously used the pads of my fingers to brush the cold tears away from her eyes, wiping them clear of her cheeks. Then, driven by an instinct I couldn’t quite rationalize, I reached down, raised her up gently into my arms, and pulled her into a tight, unyielding hug, wrapping my body around hers.

It was only then, encased in the warmth of my embrace, that her quiet reserve shattered completely, and she finally began to sob out loud.

"You asshole!" she spat out, her voice cracking under the weight of her tears as she raised a weak fist and hit my chest softly, her meager blow carrying no real strength behind it. "Why did it have to be you?" she asked, the desperation in her voice cutting through the heavy air.

I felt that strange, agonizing pain in my heart plunge deeper, twisting like a blade inside my chest, but I fought against it and tried with everything in me to hold myself together.

I had never felt this way before—so strangely raw, so strangely vulnerable—and I was entirely certain that I never wanted to feel it again. It was a terrifying loss of control.

"Why did you show up now?" she continued asking, her tears soaking into the fabric of my shirt as she poured out her anguish against my shoulder.

But I didn’t utter a single word in reply. I couldn’t bring myself to speak, trapped in a sudden silence, and could only continue patting her back gently, offering a quiet, instinctive comfort that felt entirely foreign to who I was.

"I don’t want you!" she sobbed out, taking a shuddering breath as she paused, before dropping the heavy, devastating request between us. "Please reject me!" she added, her words ringing clear in the small space.

I froze.

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