Page 34 of Brutal Alpha's Forced Mate

“Did you know,” she begins, her words just a little too loud, “that the first spell I ever cast went completely wrong? Like, spectacularly wrong.”

I glance at her, fighting back a smirk. “Can’t say I did.”

She twists in her seat to face me, and her hands flop into her lap with the kind of dramatic flair only a tipsy person can manage. “It was supposed to be this little charm for good luck. Harmless, right? Instead, I turned my aunt’s kitchen knives into boomerangs.”

“Boomerangs?” I repeat, trying and failing to hide my amusement.

“Yup. Straight-up whirling death traps.” She giggles, then quickly sobers, and her eyes go wide with mock seriousness. “I almost decapitated my uncle.”

Her words tug at a memory I hadn’t thought about in years. Jaslyn was raised by her aunt and uncle after her mother died giving birth to her, a fact that always struck me as both tragic and complicated. I used to wonder how they felt about raising a child so different from themselves. Were they proud of her magic, or did they see it as a burden they never asked for? The boomerang knives probably hadn’t helped much with that.

Still, imagining a teenage Jaslyn wreaking havoc with enchanted cutlery almost makes me laugh out loud. “I’m guessing that didn’t win you any points with them?” I remark.

“Not exactly. But it definitely made them invest in plastic knives for a while.”

“You’re full of surprises, Kismet.”

“Damn right I am.” She leans back with a content sigh. “But you have to admit, I’ve gotten better. You saw me out there with the wards. That was impressive, right?”

“It was,” I admit, and it’s not just flattery. She’s come a long way since the girl who used to set things on fire by accident.

She hums, clearly satisfied with my answer. Then she mutters something I don’t quite catch, and her voice trails off as her head lolls against the window.

When we finally pull up to the packhouse, I glance over to find her half-asleep, her lashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks. She’s never looked so unguarded, so utterly human. It does something strange to my chest, and I have to force myself to move.

“Come on, lightweight,” I tease, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Let’s get you to bed.”

She mumbles something incoherent as I open her door and crouch down. “What was that?”

“I said,” she slurs, “I’m not a lightweight. I’m compact. There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.” I slip an arm under her knees and another behind her back, lifting her easily. She wraps her arms around my neck. Her face presses into my shoulder, warm and soft and entirely too close.

“You’re so strong,” she whispers, and her breath tickles my neck. “Is that an alpha thing or a Gray thing?”

“Definitely a Gray thing,” I reply, hoping to keep the mood light because if I think too hard about how good she feels in my arms, I might lose my mind.

Her head tilts back, and she gives me a lopsided smile. “I think you’re lying. But it’s okay. I forgive you.”

“Generous of you.”

The packhouse is quiet when we enter. Most of the other wolves are already asleep. I carry her up the stairs and into my room, nudging the door open with my foot. She doesn’t protest as I set her down on the edge of the bed, but when I move to step back, her grip tightens around my neck.

“Don’t go,” she murmurs, her voice small and pleading.

“Jaslyn—”

“Stay.” Her green eyes meet mine, and I nearly buckle under their weight. “Just… stay.”

My throat tightens, and I know I should walk away, should tell her she doesn’t mean it, not really. But the warmth of her hands against my skin makes it impossible to move.

“Okay,” I finally say. “But you need to lie down.”

She lets me guide her back onto the bed, but her fingers still clutch at my shirt like I might vanish if she lets go. When I try to pull away again, she tugs me down with surprising strength. “You too.”

“Jaslyn—”

“Please.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but it’s enough to break through my resolve.

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