Page 41 of His Forsaken Alpha

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry,”Warden growled. “You were inconsiderate. I didn’t deserve that dropped on my shoulders.”

“In that moment, I wasn’t thinking about anything else but my pain.”

“Clearly, but when have you ever considered mine?”

Wynter dragged his gaze from Warden’s.

“No more therapy. No more gossip. No more scandal. I will not go through all this again. I can’t.”

“How am I supposed to fix myself without help?”

“Figure it out,”Warden snapped. “You had six months of help. That’s enough.”

“Therapysavedme.” He cocked his head, searching Warden’s face. “But I’m not done. I can’t be this person you want me to be without help.”

“You will. Or else.”

“Or elsewhat?”

Warden growled, but otherwise remained silent. The threat in his eyes seemed fairly clear, though.

“All I’m asking for is a little help.”

Warden spun to face him. “This therapy has done wonders—you’ve gone from quiet and meek to outraged and hysterical inthose six month away. I won’t spend another hard-earned dime on this idiocy. It’s a scam. I’m cancelling your appointments.”

Panic gripped Wynter.“Please,Warden. Don’t do this. I need help.”

“Youneedto focus on your child and supporting your alpha. Not in this mistaken therapy that has done more harm than good,” Warden growled, fire in his eyes. “Youwillgo to the spa and give me another month’s reprieve, because that is what I demand of you as your alpha. Understood?”

Wynter glared.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Warden murmured.

Wynter turned to look elsewhere since there was no way he’d be able to mask his disgust.

“I think we wouldbothbenefit from more time apart. The spa would be a means to make that happen… and not create more gossip.”

“Of course,” Wynter agreed. “Perhaps I go there every cycle from now on.”

“Perhaps you do.” Warden glanced at his watch. “Now I’m late. I need to get to the office.”

Wynter eyed the alpha.

“This will be good for us both. Trust me.”

Wynter forced a smile, but there was absolutely no mirth in it. “There is no good here.”

Warden’s face turned pink, a hint of a smile on his upturned lips. “Not until one of us is dead.”

Wynter narrowed his stare as his husband passed.

“Daddy?”

Wynter turned to see their son, Jamie, standing in the doorway, eyes wide. “Who’s dying?”

“No one,” Warden said, glaring at Wynter. “Unfortunately.”

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