Alpha's Dark Desires
Chapter 68: The New Beginning Tainted By The Ghost Of The Closet

Chapter 68: The New Beginning Tainted By The Ghost Of The Closet

Elena’s POV

Okay, I’ll admit it—Kane can be charming when he wants to be. Sometimes infuriating, sure, but when he softens up like he did this morning, he’s almost impossible to resist. I knew the second he said he’d make breakfast that the results would probably be disastrous, but it was the effort that mattered. And honestly? It was kind of endearing.

He was so proud, watching me as I ate those god-awful pancakes. I had to tell him they were great, even though every bite felt like I was committing some sort of culinary crime against my taste buds. The way his face lit up at my half-hearted compliment was enough to make me bite back the truth. I mean, who am I to crush his spirit after he went through all that trouble?

But then—then—he had to go and ruin it by suggesting lunch.

I didn’t mean to overreact, but the thought of enduring another one of his "creations" was more than my poor stomach could handle. I jumped up so fast to shut the idea down that I didn’t realize how obvious I was being until it was too late. His face fell, confusion flickering in his eyes as he asked, "Are they... are they that terrible?"

I froze, caught in the act. For a second, I debated whether to double down on my lie, but his hopeful expression broke me. Reluctantly, I gave him a small, apologetic nod.

His entire demeanor shifted. His shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand through his messy hair, looking downright devastated. "But you said they were good..." he murmured, like a kid finding out their favorite superhero wasn’t real.

"I didn’t want to hurt your feelings," I admitted quietly, feeling a pang of guilt.

He looked at the plate, then at me, then back at the plate. "Are they really that bad?"

I didn’t say anything, but my expression must’ve given me away because he grabbed a fork and took a bite himself. The second the pancake hit his tongue, his face twisted into a grimace so comically horrified that I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

"Yuck

," he muttered, pushing the plate away like it had personally offended him. "So much for my romantic breakfast," he mumbled, more to himself than to me.

That’s when the guilt hit me again. I stood up and walked over to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Tell you what," I said, trying to sound upbeat. "I’ll let you help me make lunch. How about that?"

His head shot up, a flicker of hope reigniting in his eyes. "You mean it?"

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. "Yes, but only if you promise to stay away from the stove."

His lips twitched into a grin. "Fair deal."

I walked back to the counter, grabbing a loaf of bread and a carton of juice. "For now," I called over my shoulder, "let’s just stick to something safe for breakfast. Bread and juice sound good?"

"Safe, huh?" he teased, leaning back in his chair. "You don’t trust me to redeem myself with something else?"

"Not unless you plan on taking a crash course in cooking between now and lunch," I shot back, setting the items on the table.

He laughed, the sound deep and warm, and for a moment, I found myself smiling along with him. It was easy to forget the walls I’d built around myself when he was like this—open, genuine, and maybe even a little vulnerable.

As we sat and shared our makeshift breakfast, I couldn’t help but feel... lighter. Like some of the tension between us had finally started to ease. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but I could see he was trying. Really trying. And that meant something.

Still, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that I was forgetting something important.

I glanced at Kane as he took a sip of his juice, his dark eyes meeting mine over the rim of the glass. For a moment, I thought about bringing it up, asking if he remembered anything we might’ve missed. But then he smiled, that soft, lopsided grin that made my heart do an annoying little flutter, and the words caught in my throat.

Maybe it wasn’t anything. Maybe, for once, I could just let myself enjoy this moment without overthinking everything.

As I stood up to clear the table, I glanced back at Kane, who was already pulling open the fridge and inspecting its contents like a man on a mission. "So," he said, turning to me with an exaggeratedly serious expression, "what’s the plan for lunch?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Something easy. Something you can’t

mess up."

"Challenge accepted," he said with a smirk, and for the first time in a long while, I found myself laughing.

Maybe, just maybe, this new Kane—the one who laughed, who tried, who wasn’t afraid to burn pancakes for me—was here to stay. And if that was the case, then maybe I could finally start to let go of the past and meet him halfway.

For now, though, I had a kitchen to supervise. God help us if Kane got any bright ideas without me.

...

The day passed in a blur, with neither of us setting foot outside. It felt surreal, spending the entire day just... talking to Kane, peeling back layers of a man I’d only seen as commanding, harsh, and at times, impossible. But as the hours slipped by, I began to see the man behind the title, the mate who was trying—trying for us, for me.

At first, our conversation was lighthearted. We exchanged stories about our childhoods. I told him about the time I’d climbed a tree so high I couldn’t get down and had to be rescued by the village healer, and he teased me mercilessly for it. He shared tales about his mischievous antics as a pup—how he and his beta, Lucas, used to sneak out of lessons to play tricks on the elders. Hearing about his younger, freer self made me smile. It was hard to reconcile the ruthless alpha with the playful boy he described, but it gave me a glimpse of who Kane used to be before life had hardened him.

Eventually, the conversation turned more serious. It started with me asking something I’d always wondered but hadn’t dared to voice before: "Why are you like this, Kane? So... ruthless?"

He stiffened slightly, his playful smirk fading into something heavier, darker. For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer, that I’d pushed too far. But then he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, and his eyes softened as they met mine.

"It’s because of my father," he said, his voice quieter than usual. "He was a good man. Too good."

I tilted my head, curious but cautious. "What do you mean?"

Kane leaned back against the couch, his gaze distant as he spoke. "He believed in peace, in unity among the packs. He thought if he showed enough kindness, enough fairness, others would follow his lead. And for a while, it worked. Our pack thrived under his rule. He opened our borders, offered aid to smaller packs, even negotiated peace treaties with rivals. Everyone admired him—respected him."

His voice hardened, and I saw his jaw clench as memories seemed to wash over him. "But respect doesn’t always mean loyalty. When the time came for them to stand by him, to return the favor, they turned their backs on us. On him. When rogues attacked our territory, he called on those same allies for help, but none came. They saw us as weak—an easy target. They thought we were too soft to fight back."

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening at the raw pain in his voice.

"What happened?" I asked softly.

Kane’s gaze darkened. "We fought. We fought with everything we had, but it wasn’t enough. We lost warriors, families, homes. I lost him—my father." His hand clenched into a fist on his thigh. "I swore that day I’d never let it happen again. I wouldn’t be the weak alpha others took advantage of. I wouldn’t make the same mistakes he did."

Silence fell between us, heavy and full of unspoken emotion. I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to comfort him, to tell him he didn’t have to carry all that weight alone. But another part of me understood why he’d built those walls, why he’d chosen to rule with an iron fist. He’d lost so much—more than I’d realized.

"Kane..." I began, but he shook his head, cutting me off.

"I know what you’re going to say," he murmured, his voice softer now. "That I don’t have to be like this. That I can be different. And maybe you’re right, Elena. Maybe I don’t have to rule the way I do. But I don’t know how to let that part of me go. It’s what’s kept us safe. It’s what’s kept me safe."

I reached out, placing my hand over his. "Maybe you don’t have to let it go completely. Maybe there’s a balance—being strong without being cruel. Protecting your pack without closing yourself off to them."

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, but I could see the gears turning in his mind. Finally, he gave a small nod, his hand turning to lace his fingers with mine.

"I’ll try," he said quietly. "For you. For us."

Those words settled something deep inside me, something I hadn’t even realized was weighing me down. For the first time, I felt like we were on the same page, like we were moving toward something better—together.

The rest of the day passed in a quiet sort of peace. We cooked lunch together, and to my surprise, Kane actually listened to my instructions this time. He wasn’t great in the kitchen, but his effort was sweet, and we ended up with a halfway-decent meal.

We spent the afternoon talking more, delving into topics we’d never touched before. I learned about his favorite childhood memories, his secret love for classic novels (a fact that made me tease him endlessly), and his dreams for the future—dreams he admitted he hadn’t thought about in a long time.

By the time the sun began to set, I felt like I knew Kane in a way I never had before. He wasn’t just the intimidating alpha or the overbearing mate I’d butted heads with so many times. He was a man shaped by loss and love, by fear and hope. And he was mine.

As we sat together on the couch, his arm draped around my shoulders and my head resting against his chest, I couldn’t help but think that maybe this was the start of something new. Something real.

I just hoped the new Kane—the one who laughed, who tried, who opened up—was here to stay.

Kane stood up with a rare, easy smile, his eyes glowing with warmth as he excused himself, saying he’d be right back. "I’m going to make a toast to our new beginning," he announced, heading toward the kitchen. The sincerity in his voice, the softness in his gaze, made my heart clench.

It was a moment I should have savored—us, finally reaching a place where we could begin again without the weight of mistrust and tension dragging us down. But as soon as he disappeared around the corner, a cold shiver crept down my spine. Something nagged at me, clawing its way to the forefront of my mind.

And then it hit me.

Ashley. The contract. The way they called him ’Master’ instead of Alpha.