Page 47 of Brutal Alpha's Forced Mate

“Been what? A slave?” she challenges, taking another step closer. “You think that makes me weaker? You think that makes me less capable?”

“That’s not what I meant.” My voice drops, softer now. “But you’ve been through enough. You shouldn’t have to keep fighting.”

“And what if I want to fight? What if I need to? You don’t get to make this decision for me, Gray.”

“I’m trying to protect you.”

“And I’m trying to protect this pack,” she counters. “Just like you are. Just like everyone else who’s going to be out there. Why am I any different?”

“Because you matter to me, dammit!” The words slip out before I can stop them, and the silence that follows is deafening.

Her eyes widen, just for a moment, before her expression softens. She steps closer, and the scent of her—warm and intoxicating—wraps around me like a vice. “Gray, I’m not asking you to stop caring about me. But you have to trust me, too.”

“I do trust you. It’s everyone else I don’t trust. And those demons? They don’t care how strong you are, or how much magic you have. They’ll rip you apart if they get the chance.”

Her lips curve into a small, knowing smile. “Then don’t give them the chance. Come with me.”

I blink, caught off-guard. “What?”

“You said you want to protect me, right? So do it. Join the hunt.” She steps even closer, until there’s barely any space between us. Her hand brushes against my arm, and the contact sends a spark through me.

“Jaslyn—”

“Please, Gray,” she whispers, tilting her head to look up at me through her lashes. “You’re the alpha. You’re the strongestwolf in the pack. If you’re by my side, what could possibly go wrong?”

Everything, I think, but the words get caught in my throat. She’s so close now, her scent and her magic swirling around me. I can feel the walls I’ve built around myself start to crumble.

“You’re impossible,” I finally grumble.

Her smile widens, and she leans up, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. “And you like it.”

It’s not fair, the way she does this—disarms me with a smile, a touch, a kiss. But I don’t resist when her lips find mine again, firmer this time, coaxing and teasing until I can’t think about anything else.

My hands find her waist, pulling her closer, and she lets out a soft sigh that sends a jolt straight through me. She tastes like fire and defiance, and I’m drowning in her, unable to pull away even if I wanted to.

When she finally pulls back, her green eyes are bright and full of triumph. “So, what’s it going to be, Alpha?”

I exhale a shaky breath, already knowing I’ve lost this battle. “Fine,” I say reluctantly. “But if you’re going, I’m going, too.”

Her smile is radiant, and for a moment, it almost makes me forget the weight of everything looming over us. Almost.

As she steps back, her fingers trailing down my arm, I can’t help but wonder how the hell I let myself get here—wrapped around her finger and willingly throwing myself into danger just to keep her safe.

But then I see the fire in her eyes, and I realize I’d do anything for Jaslyn.

Chapter 16 - Jaslyn

I’m not sure what surprises me more—the pile of supplies stacked outside the packhouse, or the fact that all of it is for me.

For a moment, I just stand there, staring at the assortment of weapons, tools, and neatly bundled packages of food like they might sprout legs and start walking around. The shifters bustling about don’t seem to think this is weird at all. If anything, they look proud of themselves, like they’re packing me off for some grand adventure.

“Uh, what is all this?” I finally ask, half expecting someone to pop out with a clipboard and start taking inventory.

Madison beams at me as she hands off a tightly wrapped loaf of bread to a teenager, who zips it into a satchel. “Provisions,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ll need food that won’t spoil, tools for the journey, and a few extras for good luck.”

“Extras?” I echo, glancing at a cluster of small cloth pouches tied with string. The faint hum of magic tells me they’re charms—protection, maybe, or something more specific. Either way, someone went to a lot of trouble making them.

Madison shrugs. “You can never have too much luck.”

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