Please Divorce Me, Alpha! {BL}

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I’d always known what Lorenzo was. I’d seen enough. I’d watched him handle traitors. I’d witnessed how men obeyed him without question. I’d heard the stories.

But seeing an enemy beg for death rather than fall into Lorenzo’s hands was a different experience entirely.

I looked at my husband. He turned back to me, the terrifying look already gone.

"Can you stand?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. I tried, but my stupid legs immediately betrayed me, and I stumbled. Lorenzo caught me before I could hit the ground.

"I’m fine," I insisted.

"You nearly fell."

"I was just adjusting."

"To gravity?"

"Yes."

His eyes narrowed. "You’re impossible."

His expression shifted, just a little, but I noticed. Before I could assess what it meant, he bent down and lifted me, one arm sliding under my knees while the other supported my back.

I stared at him. "Dracula, I can walk."

"I know."

"Then put me down."

"No."

I frowned. "You can’t just carry me around."

"Watch me."

I should’ve argued more, normally, I would have. But adrenaline was fading fast, taking my strength with it. The cold pavement had made me shiver, and now Lorenzo’s warmth was almost overwhelming.

His scent was stronger than usual, it was sharper, darker, hinting at the fury he was still keeping under control.

I rested my head against his chest as I caught myself thinking ’Alpha is angry.’ just for a moment.

Only because I was so exhausted I didn’t even have the strength to inwardly beat myself up for thinking that shit.

Definitely not because it felt safe. I refused to acknowledge that possibility.

Lorenzo carried me toward the waiting SUV. Nikolai opened the car door and stepped aside to let him pass, his eyes meeting mine briefly. He looked relieved.

I couldn’t help but wonder how many people had been scared tonight, how many men had nearly died because I was in that vehicle. That thought twisted my stomach.

Lorenzo seemed to catch my expression.

"Don’t," he said.

I looked up at him. "Don’t what?"

"Blame yourself."

"I didn’t say anything."

"You didn’t have to."

I turned away. "People got hurt because of me."

"People got hurt protecting you."

"That’s the same thing."

"No." His voice was firm. "That distinction matters, I ordered them to prioritize your life over theirs."

I didn’t know how to respond, so I stayed quiet. That didn’t sound right at all to me...

Inside the SUV, Lorenzo sat next to me instead of placing me across from him. The door shut, and the convoy started moving.

For several minutes, neither of us spoke. The city blurred past in streaks of light, and my bag of books lay forgotten on the floor. My horror novels. The most ironic purchase of my life.

I leaned back against the seat. My hands were still trembling, and I hated that. I curled my fingers into fists, but they shook anyway.

Lorenzo noticed, of course he did, and reached for my wrist. I stiffened, but he didn’t force it. His fingers simply wrapped around mine.

"You’re shaking," he said, his voice low and even, like he was commenting on the weather instead of the fact that I was one stiff breeze away from vibrating out of the seat. "You’re in shock."

"I’ll live." I replied.

He looked at me, and I sighed, the kind of long, dramatic sigh you only pull off when you’ve just survived a near-death experience and still somehow have the energy to be theatrical about it.

"Fine. I’m not fine," I admitted, and it was the first honest thing I’d said since getting into the car.

His thumb moved slowly over my knuckles.

"That’s good," he said.

I frowned. "Good?"

"You don’t have to pretend with me."

That shouldn’t have affected me, yet it did. I stared down at our hands, and then I remembered something small, something I hadn’t noticed at first.

When Lorenzo had reached me on the ground, his hands had been trembling, just a little, so slightly that anyone else probably wouldn’t have picked up on it. But I did.

His fingers had shaken when he touched my face. His breathing had been uneven. His composure had cracked, if only for a moment.

Now his hands were steady, completely steady.

I looked at him, studying the sharp line of his jaw and the way the city lights kept sliding across his face like they were trying to catch him in a softer mood and failing spectacularly.

"You were scared," I said.

He didn’t say anything.

My heart tightened. "Lorenzo."

His gaze remained fixed on me.

"I was angry," he said, and it was the kind of carefully measured reply you give when you’re trying very hard not to admit the more embarrassing emotion.

"No." I shook my head. "You were scared, weren’t you?"

Silence. He turned away to look out the window, and that was enough of an answer.

I swallowed, and the thought settled somewhere deep within me. Lorenzo Castelli had been terrified.

Not angry, not simply furious because someone had targeted him, but terrified that he would find me dead. I didn’t know how to process that.

I had spent so long convincing myself that his concern was an act, that his protection was rooted in possession, that his sudden affection was just another way of controlling me.

But his hands had trembled and I recalled his face when he noticed the blood on my mouth. I remembered how his voice had changed when he said my name.

And suddenly I couldn’t tell which parts of him were real anymore.

My voice came out rough and shaky.

"You came for me," I said.

Lorenzo turned to me, his emerald eyes holding mine for a long moment. There was no teasing, no amusement, no coldness. Just something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

"Of course I came," he said, quiet and certain, like it was the most obvious fact in the world, and the way he said it made my stomach do something deeply inconvenient. "I promise I’d protect you, didn’t I?"

My throat tightened, and I quickly looked away. I didn’t want him to see what that answer had done to me.

And that scared me more than anything, because trust is dangerous, and feelings are even worse, and I’d already made that mistake once.

I leaned my head against the seat, feeling exhausted. Lorenzo’s hand remained around mine, and I didn’t pull away.

I told myself it was just because I was tired, that this was a perfectly reasonable explanation. At least, that’s what I wanted to believe.

My eyes slowly closed. The last thing I felt was Lorenzo’s shoulder under my temple and the steady warmth of his body next to me.

But just before unconsciousness pulled me in, one thought emerged, a small, uneasy question that wouldn’t go away.

How had Lorenzo arrived so quickly? The convoy had just been attacked, and he was already there ready to save me, almost as if he’d known...

Almost as if he’d been waiting for something to happen before showing up.

My heart gave one slow, uneasy beat, then another.

And with that question lingering in my mind like a second heartbeat, I finally let my eyes drift closed as I mumbled out.

"Thank you, Dracula."

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