Page 32 of Cruel Alpha

“No, no, it’s not that. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, and relief rushed through me.

“Then what the hell happened?” Up close, he looked awful. Bruises were blooming on his left cheekbone, and there was a gash above his eye, still oozing blood. He was shirtless, and for once, I wasn’t distracted by the cut of his abs because he was mottled with bruises all over his stomach, too. Deep within, my wolf was whining; her mate was hurt.

“That doesn’t matter,” he said, as if he didn’t look like he’d been put through a mincer. “Where are the kids?”

“They’re napping,” I told him, irritation beginning to take over from fear. “It’s a miracle your commotion didn’t wake them.”

“Good. Good,” he said, beginning to pace. “And Julia?”

“She went for a run.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t say anything more, just continued pacing, his hands balled into fists. Whatever he’d barged in here to say was clearly on the tip of his tongue because he kept taking deep breaths in as if to speak, only to clamp his jaw shut and continue his pacing. I’d been having a perfectly nice afternoon until he’d disturbed my peace, and if we didn’t have Arbor wolves at the door, my patience for his tortured bullshit was running short.

“So… where’s the fire?” I asked. He stopped.

“What?”

“You come barging in here—making me spill tea on myself—just to ask where Julia is?”

“No,” he said. “I—sorry about the tea.”

His eyes darted down to the stain on my stomach, and I immediately regretted bringing attention to my attire. Julia had convinced me to buy the sage green jersey lounge set at the market last week. It had just come over from the mainland, according to the seller, and it was so soft and such a pretty color, and I did deserve to treat myself. The problem, however, was that the shorts skimmed the very tops of my thighs, and the neckline of the spaghetti strap top dipped low. I hadn’t thought anything of it; I didn’t plan on wearing it out of the house, but I was suddenly aware of just how much skin was on display.

Caleb seemed to notice, too, because he blinked hard before he met my eyes again. He looked… lost, angry, and oddly vulnerable.

“What is it?” I asked again, lowering my voice, feeling like an asshole. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but he was coiled and tense like a cornered animal.

“The twins,” he said. “Are they mine?”

It was so entirely unexpected that for a moment, I forgot to be angry that he would ask.

“You know they’re yours,” I said, but he shook his head.

“No. No, I didn’t.”

Okay. The anger had arrived.

“I definitely remember telling you that,” I said, “I remember telling you, and I remember you and your father kicking me out of the Pack for it.” Caleb winced, and I hoped the shame hurt. If it did, it clearly wasn’t enough because he continued:

“You were never—you were never with anyone else?”

The question was like a punch to the gut, but I refused to let it faze me.

“You don’t get to ask me that,” I said, cursing myself that I could not keep my voice from trembling.

His knuckles went white where he gripped the back of the couch, and when he spoke, his voice was strangled with emotion.

“Please, Alyssa. Please just tell me—”

“I was never with anyone else!” I cried, only just managing to hold back tears. I wanted this conversation to be over. I wanted him to leave. He didn’t, though; he slumped against the back of the couch, hanging his head.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. He didn’t need a reply, but I was going to give him one.

“You seriously thought I was lying?” I demanded. That was almost worse. Did he really think I was so low? What would I have lied for? Did he think I’d gone out and gotten myself knocked up specifically to trick him? A tear slipped down my cheek without my permission.

“I didn’t—I never knotted you,” he said, as if I didn’t know that, as if I wasn’t there. “No one told me until ten fucking minutes ago that it doesn’t—it doesn’t work like that with witches. I thought it wasn’t physically possible.”

---