How To Lose Your Billionaire Alpha Husband In 365 Days (Or Less)!-Chapter 60: His POV

AIDEN’S POV

The fire had died down in the living room hours ago.

After our impromptu chess match—where Jasmine nearly beat me with sheer stubborn spite—we’d called it a night. She said she was tired and needed to sleep. I didn’t argue. We were both drained.

We didn’t even talk about the foundation site or what we might find. We were saving everything for tomorrow.

Or pretending we could.

Once I got to my room, I closed the door behind me and sank onto the bed, phone in hand. It rang twice before Kaiden answered. "I thought you’d be asleep."

"Too wired. Updates?"

"I finished combing through the site records," he said. "Nothing unusual flagged yet. No motion sensors, no personnel logs, no energy spikes. If there’s something buried under the foundation, it’s hidden deep."

"We’re going at first light."

"Copy that." A pause. "You okay?"

I ran a hand through my hair. "Yeah."

Kaiden wasn’t convinced. "You’ve been acting off ever since we left the office today. You sure the tether didn’t screw with your system more than we thought?"

"It’s not the tether," I muttered. "It’s... complicated."

"Complicated like knowing your wife will go through something inexplicable in less than 3 days complicated, or cursed alpha kind of complicated?"

"Exactly that."

Another pause. "You’re not thinking about marking her, are you?"

"Of course not."

"Good. Because with the seal still unstable, it might make things worse—"

"I know," I snapped. "I said I’m fine."

Kaiden sighed. "Alright. See you at dawn, Aiden."

The call ended. I tossed the phone on the nightstand and stood, crossing the room toward the window. The moon hung high, full but not blood-red yet. Still, the energy in the air was electric. Charged.

Something tugged at me.

I turned back toward the bed... and saw it. A single piece of fabric draped over the edge of my armchair—one of Jasmine’s sweaters. She must’ve left it here a few nights ago or something.

I didn’t mean to.

I took a step closer, my fingers lightly touching the soft fabric. As I did, her scent washed over me—warm and wild, a mix of jasmine, honey, and something fiery.

And just like that, Ace stirred.

He didn’t knock this time. He clawed.

"Not now," I muttered, clenching my jaw. "Not tonight."

"She’s close," Ace growled inside me. "She’s hurting. She’s calling to us."

"No, she’s sleeping. Let her rest."

"She’s ours. We can feel it. You feel it. Let me go. I need to mark her and break the curse."

I staggered back, dragging a hand down my face. I couldn’t breathe.

Ace slammed into my mind again, harder this time. I clenched my fists, claws sliding out from my knuckles. I dug them into my own palms, drawing blood; an old trick I used when I was younger, learning to control my shifts.

The pain barely registered.

"Ace, stop. We’ll hurt her if we’re not careful—"

"Not to harm her. We’re claiming what’s ours. Ztrying to protect her. She’s breaking, Aiden."

I fell to my knees, panting.

"She’s not ready. I’m not ready. We won’t force her."

Ace didn’t listen.

This wasn’t like anything I’d ever experienced before.

The matebond, the seal, something was amplifying all my feelings and senses. My wolf was wild and craving something. I barely knew when I got on my feet again, nearly losing my balance as I made my way to the door.

Then, I stepped out into the hallway, and her scent hit me stronger.

Each step closer to her room was like walking into a forest fire. I could feel her. Hear her breath behind the door. My claws shook. My heart hammered.

My soul howled.

I knocked on the door.

Her door opened.

And there she was.

Hair tousled. Skin flushed from sleep. Eyes blinking up at me, confused and drowsy—and something deeper, something cautious.

"Aiden?" she whispered, voice barely more than a breath.

My name from her lips burned through me like a brand. And I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t lie. Couldn’t pretend I came here for anything but one overwhelming reason.

She didn’t move. But I did.

One step forward, closing the space between us.

Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off her skin, her scent wrapping around my senses like a velvet noose. Jasmine. Sweet. Sharp. Mine.

Her voice broke the silence. "Aiden—"

Still, I said nothing.

Because I couldn’t. If I opened my mouth, Ace would take it.

I looked into her eyes—and saw the shift. Her pupils dilated. She sensed it too. The wrongness. The danger curling inside me like a storm on the verge of breaking.

My gaze dropped—down her throat to the spot just above her collarbone. The scar. Faint. Sacred. Mine.

My claws flexed involuntarily.

She stepped back, tension in every line of her body. "Aiden, what’s happening?"

I swallowed, forcing myself to breathe. "I... I don’t know." My voice sounded like it came from someone else. Someone wrecked.

I didn’t tell her the truth.

I did know.

Ace was awake. Awake and maddened.

"I was lying in bed," I murmured. "Then I smelled you. And it was like everything inside me—snapped."

She saw the claws.

Her breath caught.

She didn’t scream. Jasmine never screamed. But she did what she always did when faced with a threat—she held her ground.

"Aiden," she said again, a tremor in her tone. "Maybe you should go. Try to sleep."

I couldn’t.

The scent was too strong.

The need—too deep.

I took another step.

She backed into the desk, her hand gripping the edge like it might keep her grounded.

"You’re scaring me," she whispered.

Those words... they were like cold water. For a second, just a second, Ace stilled.

Then the pain doubled.

"I’m trying," I said, voice raw. My hands trembled. "Gods, Jasmine, I’m trying. But the tether—your scent—it’s like poison in my blood."

"You can stop this," she snapped. "You always have control."

"Not with you."

The words came out like a confession. A curse.

My control was fraying. The wolf wanted her. Not to harm her—but to claim. To complete the bond. The bond we’d been dancing around for weeks, pretending we could handle.

"I need to mark you," I said hoarsely. "Not because I want to—because it hurts not to."