Leonard’s Jealousy

 Leonard Blackwell had never felt such raw, unfiltered emotion in his entire Thirty-six years of life. Anger. Possessiveness. Jealousy so fierce it threatened to consume him from the inside out. And it was all because of one delicate, young woman—his mate.

The moment Eila had uttered those cursed words—I have three mates—his world had tilted on its axis.

Three mates.

His vision had gone red at the thought of her belonging to anyone other than him. The idea of another man—no, two other men—claiming her, touching her, marking her, was enough to make his control snap. He had waited years, decades even, for his fated mate, enduring the crushing loneliness of being the only werewolf he knew without one. And now that he finally had her, the Moon Goddess had decided to play some twisted joke on him.

He would not accept it.

He could not accept it.

Zade, his wolf, was just as enraged, pacing furiously in his mind, urging him to take action. She is ours. Ours alone. We will claim her before anyone else dares to touch her.

Leonard clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. He barely heard the rest of the conversation with Magnus and Priscilla. The only thing that registered in his mind was the crushing possessiveness he felt toward Eila. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to throw her over his shoulder and drag her away from the Alpha's audience room like a barbarian.

But he knew he couldn't do that.

Not yet.

When the meeting was finally over, he walked beside her in silence, his emotions raging like a storm. The air was thick with tension, his body thrumming with unspoken words. Halfway through their walk back to her house, he couldn't hold back any longer.

He stopped abruptly, grabbing her wrist gently but firmly.

"Stay with me tonight," he said, his voice rough with desperation. "I can't bear the thought of being apart from you."

Eila looked up at him, her golden eyes searching his, hesitation flickering across her delicate features. She worried her lip between her teeth—a habit he was already finding dangerously distracting.

She nodded slowly. "I need to inform my mother first."

Leonard barely heard the mind-link message she sent, his heart pounding as he waited for her response. When she finally looked at him and gave a small nod of agreement, something inside him settled—though not entirely.

He knew this wasn't enough.

He needed more.

The walk to Blackwell Manor was a blur. His mind was too clouded with thoughts of her, of how much he wanted to keep her locked away where no one could take her from him. When they arrived, his butler, James, gave him a questioning look. Leonard ignored it entirely.

He didn't care what anyone thought.

Without a word, he took Eila's hand and led her straight to his quarters.

The moment he shut the doors behind them, he finally exhaled, his body still thrumming with frustration and longing.

Eila stood before him, looking small and unsure, her innocent expression filled with confusion. He could see the questions forming in her mind, see the way she was trying to understand what was going through his head.

She didn't understand yet.

Didn't understand how much he wanted her.

Didn't understand that every fibre of his being was screaming to mark her, to claim her before another man could even think about doing so.

He turned away from her abruptly, heading to his dresser. He needed to compose himself before he did something reckless. Digging through his neatly arranged clothes, he pulled out a set of nightwear for her—a silk shirt and loose pyjama bottoms. They would be far too big for her, but that was fine. He wanted her wrapped in his scent.

Turning back, he handed her the clothes.

"Change into this," he ordered, his voice lower than he intended.

Eila hesitated for a second before nodding, taking the clothes from him.

He grabbed his own set of nightclothes and strode into his attached bathroom without another word.

Once inside, he gripped the edge of the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. His icy blue eyes were dark with frustration, and his usually composed demeanour completely shattered.

He took some cold water and splashed it onto his face, trying to force himself to calm down.

You're losing control, Leonard.

Zade growled in response. She is ours. We should take her now before the others come for her.

Leonard shut his eyes, breathing heavily.

Not yet.

He needed to be smart about this.

If he marked her without her consent, without her being fully ready, she would resent him for it. And if he marked her too soon, the other mates would still exist. The bond wouldn't disappear—it would simply complicate things further.

He gritted his teeth, hating the situation with every fibre of his being.

Forcing himself to breathe steadily, he changed into his nightclothes and exited the bathroom.

Eila was standing by the bed, dressed in his oversized clothes. The silk shirt fell past her thighs, the fabric swallowing her smaller frame, the sleeves hanging loose.

And yet, even in something so simple, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

His jaw tightened.

"You'll sleep here," he said, pointing to his massive bed.

Eila's eyes widened. "Aren't you sleeping there too?"

Leonard let out a low chuckle, though there was nothing humorous about it. "Of course, I am. Where else would I sleep?"

She bit her lip again, clearly flustered, and it took every ounce of willpower in his body not to grab her and show her exactly how much she affected him.

Instead, he walked over to the opposite side of the bed and pulled back the covers. "Come on," he said softly, trying to reassure her. "I won't do anything you're not comfortable with."

She hesitated, then slowly climbed onto the bed, slipping under the covers.

Leonard followed, keeping a small distance between them, though every instinct screamed at him to pull her close.

The silence between them was heavy.

After a few minutes, Eila turned to him, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're angry."

Leonard let out a slow breath. "Not at you."

She was silent for a moment. Then, "I don't want this either, Leonard. I only want you."

His heart clenched.

Turning onto his side, he faced her, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek. Her skin was warm beneath his touch, soft and delicate.

"Then let me claim you first," he murmured.

"Let me make you mine before anyone else gets the chance."

Eila hesitated, her golden eyes flickering with uncertainty.

Leonard knew she wasn't ready. Not yet.

And so, with great reluctance, he let his hand drop.

"Sleep," he said, his voice rough. "We'll deal with everything tomorrow."

She nodded, closing her eyes.

Leonard lay awake for a long time after that, staring at the ceiling, his mind still raging with frustration and desire.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he would figure out how to make sure she never belonged to anyone else but him.