Chapter 400: Episode 398: Kaelen’s love

The next day, Roxy woke to find herself entirely, inescapably caged against a wall of lean, heavily muscled perfection.

Kaelen had not moved an inch since they had fallen asleep. His massive arms were wrapped securely around her waist, his face buried deep into the crook of her neck, and his breathing was a slow, contented rhythm that vibrated against her collarbone.

Roxy smiled, her heart swelling with an overwhelming, saturated warmth. She shifted slightly, intending to stretch her aching legs, but the absolute second she moved, Kaelen’s arms tightened like iron bands.

“Do not move,” Kaelen grumbled, his voice thick and raspy with sleep. He pressed a warm, lingering kiss directly to her pulse point, refusing to open his eyes. “The Matriarch is officially confined to her quarters.”

“Kae,” Roxy laughed softly, running her fingers through his messy, silver hair. “We have a Manor to run. We have children.”

“I have formally resigned,” Kaelen murmured against her skin, his lips curving into a lazy, incredibly handsome smile. “I am now a full-time pillow. I take my new duties very seriously.”

It took another twenty minutes of coaxing, sweet kisses, and gentle prodding before he finally allowed her to slip from the dire-wolf pelts. But even as they dressed for the day, the fundamental shift in Kaelen’s demeanor was glaringly, beautifully obvious. The stoic, unyielding glacier had completely, catastrophically melted.

When they finally descended the grand staircase to join the rest of the pack in the central parlor for breakfast, they caused an absolute, grinding halt to the morning routine.

Usually, Kaelen walked with an immaculate, terrifying military posture, keeping a respectful half-step behind or beside Roxy. Today, his large, cool hand was firmly wrapped around hers, their fingers interlaced. He kept her pulled tightly against his side, his thumb absently, continuously stroking her knuckles.

Torian, who had just taken a massive bite of roasted boar, completely froze. His jaw stopped chewing, his blue eyes widening in sheer disbelief as he stared at the Wolf Alpha.

Syris, lounging gracefully on a velvet settee with a cup of spiced tea, slowly lowered his porcelain cup. The Snake King’s elegant eyebrows shot up toward his hairline, an expression of profound, unadulterated amusement breaking across his sharp features.

“Good morning,” Roxy chimed happily, her cheeks flushing a brilliant shade of pink under the heavy stares of her other husbands.

“Is the sky falling?” Torian asked around his mouthful of food, gesturing a massive fork toward Kaelen. “Because the King of the North is currently holding hands in the hallway like a smitten tribal pup in the middle of a spring festival.”

Kaelen didn’t even dignify the Tiger Alpha with a glare. He completely ignored Torian.

Instead of guiding Roxy to her usual, beautifully carved Matriarch’s chair at the head of the table, Kaelen pulled out his own chair. He sat down and, with effortless strength, tugged Roxy directly backward so she fell perfectly onto his lap.

Roxy gasped, her hands flying to his broad shoulders to steady herself. “Kaelen! What are you doing?”

“Eating breakfast with my wife,” Kaelen stated smoothly, entirely unfazed. He wrapped one thick arm securely around her waist to keep her anchored on his thighs, using his free hand to reach for a silver platter of honey-glazed winter berries.

The entire parlor descended into a stunned, deafening silence.

The King of the North—the man who literally wrote the Vanguard manual on emotional discipline, battlefield decorum, and stoic authority—was currently sitting in the middle of the dining room, holding his Matriarch on his lap like they were the only two people in the entire Beastworld.

Syris let out a sudden, rich bark of laughter, completely delighted by the spectacle. “Oh, this is absolutely magnificent. Someone check the perimeter wards; Kaelen has clearly been possessed by a minor god of romance.”

Caspian walked in from the kitchens, balancing a tray of fresh bread. The aquatic warlord stopped dead in his tracks, blinking rapidly at the sight before shaking his head with a fond, knowing smile. “I see the Northern frost has finally thawed.”

Roxy hid her burning face in the crook of Kaelen’s neck, completely mortified but secretly absolutely thrilled by the overwhelming, public display of his devotion. Kaelen simply kissed the top of her dark curls, completely unbothered by the peanut gallery. He picked up a bright red berry and gently nudged it against her lips.

“Eat, my Queen,” Kaelen murmured softly. “You depleted a massive amount of energy last night. You need your strength.”

Roxy’s blush deepened to a catastrophic crimson as she accepted the berry, acutely aware of Torian dramatically choking on his ale across the table.

For the next hour, Kaelen acted like an absolute, sickeningly sweet sweetheart. It was a honeymoon phase on steroids. He fed her from his own plate, he constantly pressed soft, lingering kisses to her shoulder, and he completely monopolized her attention. He spoke to her in a low, intimate murmur, completely shutting out the rest of the world.

It was beautiful. It was healing.

But for a certain, highly possessive Dragon King, it was rapidly becoming completely intolerable.

Zarek had been leaning against the heavy stone mantle of the roaring hearth, watching the display with his arms crossed tightly over his massive chest. At first, he had been relieved to see the tension between Roxy and Kaelen resolved. But as the minutes ticked by, and Kaelen continued to act like a clingy, overgrown puppy who refused to share a single second of their Matriarch’s time, Zarek’s territorial draconic instincts began to violently flare.

A low, deep, and incredibly ominous rumble began to vibrate from the Dragon King’s chest. A faint wisp of black smoke curled from the corners of his mouth.

Zarek pushed off the stone mantle. His heavy boots hit the floorboards with loud, deliberate thuds that commanded immediate attention. He marched directly over to the dining table, his golden eyes burning with a simmering, highly jealous hellfire.

“Alright, that is enough,” Zarek boomed, his voice vibrating the crystal goblets on the table. He stopped right beside Kaelen’s chair, glaring down at the Wolf Alpha. “You have made your point, Kaelen. Now, unhand my wife.”

Kaelen didn’t even flinch. He slowly looked up at the towering Dragon King, his icy blue eyes entirely unbothered. He pulled Roxy just a fraction of an inch tighter against his chest.

“She is comfortable right where she is, Zarek,” Kaelen replied smoothly, his tone laced with a terrifyingly calm, unapologetic possessiveness. “Find your own chair.”

Zarek’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth audibly ground together. “We are her protectors, not characters in one of those terrestrial romance novels she reads! Have some basic decorum! You have monopolized her entire morning. It is my turn to sit next to my Matriarch.”

“Your turn?” Kaelen raised a single, elegant eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware we had instituted a formal timetable for affection. Perhaps you should draft a schedule, Alpha.”

Syris leaned forward on the settee, resting his chin on his hand, absolutely living for the drama. “I would like to formally request Tuesday evenings, if we are indeed drafting a schedule.”

“No one is drafting a schedule!” Zarek roared, his hellfire completely igniting in the palms of his hands. He reached out, fully intending to physically peel the Wolf King’s arms away from Roxy’s waist. “Let her go, you overgrown stray!”

“Try it, lizard,” Kaelen countered, his own combat aura flaring to life, the temperature immediately dropping around the table.

Roxy let out a highly exasperated groan, pressing her hands against Kaelen’s chest. “Guys, please, do not destroy the dining room over a seating arrangement!”

But before Zarek could make contact, and before Kaelen could draw his frost, the heavy wooden doors of the parlor violently burst open.

A chaotic, unstoppable tidal wave of adolescent energy crashed into the room.

Axel and Onyx sprinted through the doorway, their wolf ears plastered flat against their heads in sheer, unadulterated excitement. Right behind them, Iris and Tanith bounded into the parlor, their faces flushed and eyes wide.

“Mum! Mum!” Axel yelled at the top of his lungs, completely ignoring the terrifying, lethal stand-off happening between the Alpha Kings.

The children swarmed the dining table like a pack of starving timber wolves. Before Zarek could even process the interruption, Onyx grabbed Roxy’s left hand, and Iris grabbed her right.

“We need you right now!” Iris insisted, tugging hard on Roxy’s arm.

“Hey!” Kaelen protested, his fatherly instincts immediately clashing with his clingy husband mode. He tried to maintain his grip on Roxy’s waist, but Tanith—utilizing her newly acquired ten-year-old height and surprising snake-shifter strength—stepped right between Kaelen and Roxy, physically wedging them apart.

“Sorry, Papa Kae!” Tanith announced brightly, placing her hands on her hips and glaring up at the towering Warlords with absolute, unyielding pre-teen authority. “No boys allowed right now! This is a Matriarch emergency!”

Zarek blinked, his hellfire extinguishing instantly in absolute confusion. “What kind of emergency?”

“The super important kind!” Onyx declared.

With a synchronized, overwhelming effort, the four children literally dragged Roxy off of Kaelen’s lap. Roxy stumbled forward, laughing breathlessly as she tried to regain her footing. The sheer, chaotic force of her children was the only thing on the continent capable of breaking the Vanguard’s territorial gridlock.

“Alright, alright! I’m coming!” Roxy laughed, entirely giving up the fight.

She shot a highly amused, apologetic glance over her shoulder at Kaelen, who was currently staring at his empty lap with an expression of profound, devastating betrayal. Zarek simply stood there, his arms crossed, looking entirely satisfied that if he couldn’t have her, neither could the Wolf.

“We will continue this later, my King,” Roxy promised, blowing Kaelen a quick kiss before she was forcefully marched out of the parlor by her children.

“Hurry, Mum!” Axel urged, pulling her toward the grand staircase.

They practically dragged her up the steps, their excited chatter echoing in the wide, stone corridors. Roxy’s transmigrated heart swelled with absolute, chaotic joy. This was her family. This was the messy, loud, entirely unscripted life she had chosen to fight for.

As they approached the heavy wooden doors of the nursery at the end of the hall, the chaotic noise of the older children abruptly hushed. Axel put a finger to his lips, signaling for absolute silence.

Roxy slowed her pace, her brow furrowing in confusion. Usually, the nursery was the loudest room in the entire Manor, filled with the constant babbles of Little Fedor and the teething growls of Tyara. But as she stepped closer, she realized the room was incredibly, peacefully quiet.

“What is going on?” Roxy whispered to Iris.

Iris just giggled, pointing toward the slightly ajar door. “Look.”

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