Fated Mate: The Alpha King Is Ice-Cold

Chapter 1

I had cheated death more times than I could count.
After the last close call, Dad stopped praying and started making deals. He found me a husband, strong, blunt, and damn near unbreakable.

We ate together, lived under the same roof, and slept in the same bed.

And somehow, little by little, my body started to get better.

Once I could finally breathe without everything hurting, my mind began to wander.

For one thing, Ethan Carter was unfairly good-looking, sharp brows, bright eyes, and a straight nose that looked carved.

For another, his build was… distracting. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, long legs, that classic V shape.

And then there was his chest, solid and full, the kind that looked like it would feel good under your hand.

Not only did I want to touch, I wanted to kiss him there. Maybe even take a little taste.

Another night, well past midnight, I waited until Ethan was asleep, held my breath, and inched closer.

He slept like a soldier, flat on his back, perfectly still.

Summer was brutal. A thin quilt did not really cover him, it just made the rise of his chest look even more tempting.

I turned on my side and reached out, slow and careful.

I was not going to do anything. Just one touch, one little squeeze. That was it.

My fingers drifted closer and closer, almost there.

Then his eyes opened.

A strong hand shot out and caught my wrist, precise and unmissable.
His gaze followed, cool and steady.

“What are you doing?”

My mouth twisted, suddenly aggrieved.
“Ethan Carter, I can’t even touch you?”

We had been married for three years.

The first two years, fine, I was sick. I could let it go.

But this year I was basically recovered, and no matter how I tried to get close, he stayed lukewarm, never quite warm, never quite cold.

He would not even let me lay a hand on him.

So stingy.

And yet, aside from not letting me cling to him, I could not find a single real fault.

He even learned to cook nourishing food for me, the kind of broths and stews that make you feel taken care of from the inside out.

He handled every meal I ate.

When I got lazy, he carried me outside to sit in the sun. He made me little treats, warm and sweet.

He also planted flowers for me. The conservatory was packed with fussy, hard-to-keep plants he somehow tracked down from all over.

And every day, he insisted on an herbal foot soak, then massaged me after.

Whenever his long fingers closed around my ankle, it felt indecent in the most unfair way.

The faint roughness of his calluses made me shiver, my heart kicking up like it had forgotten how to behave.

I leaned in, rubbing my cheek against his shoulder like a cat.
“Ethan, I can’t sleep.”

Could we do something adults did?

His body went still.

His breathing deepened.
He looked down at me, his throat working as his Adam’s apple bobbed.

Just when I thought I had a chance, he pressed a finger to my forehead and nudged me back.

“I’ll make you a late-night snack.”

He sat up, and the sheet slid down.
The smooth silk of his pajama top traced the outline of his chest.

I had not even gotten a good look before he swung out of bed and left.

No pause. No looking back.

“…”

Was I asking for a snack?

What a blockhead.

I lay there, furious and helpless, chewing on my pillow like it had personally offended me.

Then my best friend posted a loved-up photo, and the hickey on her neck was practically glowing.

I opened my feed and posted, spite dripping through every word.

[When you keep ignoring me, I seriously want to slip you an aphrodisiac.]

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