Page 60 of Brutal Alpha's Forced Mate

“You kind of did save the world,” Gray points out. “Or at least our corner of it.”

I glare at him, though there’s no real heat behind it. “I didn’t do anything special. I just did what anyone would have done.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He straightens and steps closer until he’s standing directly in front of me. His blue eyes pin me in place. “Most people wouldn’t have been able to do what you did. Most people wouldn’t have had the strength, or the courage.”

“Courage?” I scoff. “I was terrified the whole time.”

“Doesn’t mean you weren’t brave,” he counters. “Being brave doesn’t mean not being scared. It means doing what needs to be done, even when you are.”

I drop my gaze, focusing on the ground beneath my boots. “I don’t want to be brave. I don’t want to be special or strong or any of it. I just want to be normal.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Gray’s hand is under my chin, tipping my face up to meet his. “You’re not normal, Jaslyn. You’re extraordinary. And you should be proud of that.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest, knocking the air right out of me. I blink up at him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity, but there’s none. He means it. Every word.

“I don’t feel extraordinary, either,” I say.

“That’s because you don’t see what I see. You don’t see the way you light up a room when you walk in. The way you inspire people without even trying. The way you make everyone around you stronger just by being you.”

My throat tightens, and I look away, my cheeks burning. “You’re just saying that because you’re—”

“Because I’m what?” he interrupts, stepping closer. “Because I’m falling for you?”

My heart skips a beat, and I freeze, the world narrowing down to the space between us. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say another word, just watches me with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away.

“I…” The words stick in my throat, tangled and useless. The demons are gone, the mission is over—for now—but what comes next? Everything feels uncertain, fragile. I don’t want to hand my heart over on a whim, not when I’m still trying to piece together what’s left of my life.

But then Gray’s steady gaze holds mine, and something in his expression—a quiet strength, a certainty I can’t muster on my own—pulls me in.

Instead of finishing the sentence, I close the distance between us, leaning up on my toes to press my lips to his.

It’s not a soft kiss. It’s all heat and need and the kind of desperation that comes from holding back too long. Gray responds instantly, his hands gripping my waist as he pulls me closer, deepening the kiss until the rest of the world fades away.

When we finally break apart, I’m breathless and more than a little dizzy. Gray rests his forehead against mine, his breathing just as uneven as mine.

We stay like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, until the distant sound of laughter and music pulls me back to reality. I step back, smoothing my hands over my hair and trying to ignore the way my heart is still racing.

“Guess we should get back,” I suggest, though the thought fills me with dread.

Gray nods, but his hand brushes against mine as we start walking, a silent reassurance that I’m not alone.

When we return to the packhouse, the celebration is still in full swing. The crowd erupts into cheers when they see us, and for the first time, I don’t feel the urge to run. Gray’s words linger in my mind, steadying me, reminding me that maybe I can do this.

I’m swept into the crowd, surrounded by smiling faces and warm congratulations, but it doesn’t feel suffocating this time. It feels… almost good.

At some point, Gray appears at my side with a glass of something cold in his hand. “Dance with me,” he says, holding out his other hand.

“I don’t dance,” I reply automatically.

He raises a brow, and his lips curve into a teasing smile. “You’ll spar with demons, but you won’t dance with me?”

“That’s different,” I counter, but I can’t fight the smile tugging at my own lips. “Fine. One dance.”

Gray leads me to the makeshift dance floor. The music is slower now, softer, and I let him guide me, our movements easy and unhurried.

“You’re not terrible at this,” he comments after a moment.

“Careful, Alpha,” I reply, smirking. “You almost sound impressed.”

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