A Rogue For The Quadruplet Alpha's.

Davian.

I didn’t waste another second.

Carefully, as though she were made of fragile glass, I gathered Maria into my arms. Her body felt unbearably hot against my chest, the heat seeping through my clothes, reminding me again, too harsh, too far. I moved slowly, deliberately, afraid that even the smallest jolt might hurt her more.

The bed was only a few steps away, yet it felt like miles.

I lowered her onto the mattress with care, adjusting her position so she lay on her side, her breathing shallow but steady. For a moment, I simply stood there, staring down at her. Her lashes rested dark against her pale cheeks, her lips slightly parted, her brow faintly creased even in unconsciousness, as if pain followed her even into sleep.

Guilt twisted sharply in my chest.

I turned away before I could think too much and went to fetch a basin of water and a clean towel. My hands moved on instinct now, the way they did on the battlefield when one of my men was injured. Focus. Control. Fix what you can.

I dipped the towel into the water and wrung it out, then returned to her side. Kneeling beside the bed, I gently pressed the cool cloth to her forehead. She stirred faintly, a soft sound escaping her throat, and I froze.

"It’s all right," I murmured without thinking, my voice low. "Just rest."

I wiped her forehead slowly, then her temples, careful not to linger too long in one place. The fever was still there, burning beneath her skin, but I hoped the water would at least bring her some relief. Each time I touched her, my chest tightened further. I had touched her roughly before, out of anger, out of jealousy, out of something I still refused to name.

This... this felt different.

After a while, I set the towel aside and reached for the balm I kept for injuries, strong enough to ease pain, mild enough not to worsen wounds. I hesitated briefly, my fingers hovering over her back.

"I won’t hurt you," I said quietly, though she couldn’t hear me.

With careful movements, I loosened her clothes just enough to expose the angry marks lining her back. The sight of them made my jaw clench hard. Each lash, each bruise, stood as evidence of my own cruelty. I swallowed and forced myself to focus.

I warmed a small amount of the balm between my fingers before applying it gently to her skin. I worked slowly, spreading it with light, careful strokes, mindful of every rise and fall of her breath. Her body reacted instinctively, flinching slightly beneath my touch, and I paused each time, waiting until she settled again.

"I’m sorry," I found myself whispering, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "I shouldn’t have..."

I didn’t finish the sentence. There was no excuse that could complete it.

When I was done, I adjusted her clothes back into place and sat there for a moment, my hands resting uselessly on my knees. She looked so small lying there, so defenseless. Not a spy. Not a threat. Just a girl who had suffered far more than she ever should have.

The room felt cold suddenly.

Without overthinking it, before I could talk myself out of it,I slipped onto the bed beside her. I lay on my side, facing her, and gently drew her closer, careful not to press against her injuries. She fit against me naturally, her head resting near my chest, her body curling slightly as if seeking warmth.

I wrapped an arm around her, pulling the covers over us both.

Almost immediately, she relaxed.

Her breathing evened out, slow and steady, and some of the tension seemed to leave her body. I held her there, unmoving, listening to the faint rhythm of her breaths, feeling the heat of her fever slowly seep into me.

This was wrong.

I knew it was. I was engaged. I had no business lying here with another woman in my arms. Vanessa’s face flashed briefly in my mind—and with it, a stab of guilt—but it faded just as quickly, drowned out by the strange, overwhelming need to keep Maria warm. To keep her safe. To make sure she woke up.

I tightened my hold on her slightly, resting my chin against her hair.

"Don’t die," I whispered softly, the plea barely audible even to myself. "You’re not allowed to."

As I lay quietly beside her, one unsettling truth lingered in my mind, heavy and undeniable...

Somewhere along the line, without meaning to, without understanding how, Maria had begun to matter far more than she should.

Sleep didn’t come easily.

I lay there with Maria curled against me, my body rigid, every sense on high alert. Each shallow breath she took felt like a fragile promise that could snap at any moment. I counted them without meaning to—one rise of her chest, one fall—over and over again, as if keeping track could somehow keep her alive.

Her heat still burned through my clothes. Too hot. Unnaturally so.

I shifted slightly, careful not to wake her, and pressed the back of my hand to her forehead again. The fever hadn’t broken. My jaw tightened. I had tended to wounded warriors on battlefields soaked in blood, had watched men scream and beg and die under my command, but this felt worse. This felt personal in a way I didn’t know how to control.

I adjusted the blanket around her shoulders, tucking it closer, then drew her nearer to my chest, hoping my warmth would steady her rather than worsen things. She murmured faintly, her brow creasing, and my heart stuttered.

"Easy," I whispered, my voice barely sound. "I’ve got you."

The words startled me the moment they left my mouth.

When had I started talking to her like this?

My gaze drifted to her face in the dim light of the room. Without the fear in her eyes, without defiance or pain twisting her features, she looked younger. Softer. Vulnerable in a way that made something in my chest ache sharply.

I closed my eyes, memories pressing in uninvited.

The whip in my hand.

Her body collapsing.

The way she hadn’t screamed the way

others did.

My grip tightened around her unconsciously, not in anger this time, but in something close to fear.

I had crossed a line.

I had told myself it was discipline. Justice. Protection, for the pack, for Vanessa, for everything I had sworn to uphold. But lying here now, with Maria’s fragile body warming against mine, those justifications rang hollow.

What kind of Alpha loses control like that?

Her breathing hitched suddenly, a soft whimper escaping her lips. I froze. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

"Maria?" I murmured.

She didn’t wake, but her fingers curled weakly into the fabric of my shirt, clutching it as if anchoring herself. The sensation shot straight through me, raw and unfiltered. She was seeking comfort. From me.

The irony was bitter.

I shifted again, propping myself slightly so I could look down at her properly. Her lashes fluttered, her lips parting as if she were trying to speak. I leaned closer instinctively, straining to hear.

"Don’t..." she breathed, barely audible.

My chest tightened painfully.

"I won’t," I said quickly, even though she couldn’t hear me. "I swear."

I stayed like that for a long while, half sitting, half lying, afraid that if I moved too much she might slip away again. The room was silent except for the crackle of the distant torches outside and the sound of her breathing.

Eventually, exhaustion dragged at me, heavy and unavoidable. My body began to relax despite my mind’s resistance. I rested back against the pillows, keeping her tucked close, my arm firm around her back.

If Vanessa walked in now...

The thought struck like a blade.

I stiffened, guilt surging hard and fast. This, this was betrayal. Even if nothing had happened, even if Maria lay unconscious and fevered, the intimacy of this moment was undeniable. Vanessa was my fiancée. My Luna-to-be. She trusted me. She looked at me with devotion, softness, faith.

And yet, here I was, holding another woman like she belonged here.

I stared up at the ceiling, jaw clenched so tight it ached.

This ends when she wakes up, I told myself firmly. I’ll make sure she’s stable, then I’ll put distance between us. This cannot continue.

As if she sensed the shift in my resolve, Maria stirred again. Her head nestled closer into my chest, her body curling tighter, instinctively seeking warmth. A quiet sigh escaped her, and some of the tension left her frame.

Against my will, my arm tightened protectively.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath.

I brushed my thumb lightly along her arm, slow, absentminded. Her skin was warm, no longer burning quite as fiercely as before. Relief bloomed cautiously in my chest. Maybe the fever was finally easing.

Minutes passed. Or hours. I wasn’t sure.

Eventually, her breathing deepened, settling into a more natural rhythm. The crease between her brows smoothed out, and for the first time since I’d brought her to the bed, she looked... peaceful.

I studied her in silence, something heavy and unfamiliar settling over me.

I had always believed strength meant control. That an Alpha ruled with authority, fear, and absolute certainty. But lying here now, holding the very person I had broken, I felt none of that certainty.

Only confusion.

Only guilt.

Only a quiet, terrifying truth I wasn’t ready to face...

Whatever Maria was to this pack, whatever secrets she carried, she had already changed something in me. And no matter how hard I tried to deny it, there was no undoing that now.