Page 47 of Brutal Alpha

“Shut up.”

I wanted to tell her that she didn’t have anything to worry about, but that wouldn’t make sense. We weren’t together. Did I want us to be together? I knew I didn’t want any other male anywhere near her. I couldn’t imagine being with another female. I knew that when I touched her, I felt electric, and she’d said from the beginning that we were mates, and perhaps I was starting to believe her.

“I just—you know I’m…” The words wouldn’t come. I floundered.

“A bit of a slut?”

“Sure,” I admitted. She was right, but that wasn’t what I was trying to say. “I just never really—I never wanted anything long-term. I didn’t want to worry about someone else’s feelings when I already had a whole Pack’s worth of feelings to worry about. Besides, I didn’t want to get attached to someone who wasn’t my mate—not that I even wanted a mate, or a family, or any of that, really.” The words were pouring out of me, but none of them were right. “I only—I only ever picked women I knew there was no danger I would fall for. Lacey’s nice and all, but I don’t exactly want to spend time with her when we’re not—this is coming out wrong.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” said Julia. “I’m not judging you.”

“I know, but—”

“I kind of just want to go to bed.”

I was surprised by the sudden bluntness of it, but she did look tired. Her voice was flat, and her gaze lacked its usualmischievous sparkle. We’d run across two islands and gone on an impromptu forest hike today; it was no wonder she needed her rest. Maybe I did, too. Maybe in the morning I’d be better with my words.

“Right. It’s been a long day,” I agreed. “Let me find something for you to sleep in.”

She followed me up the stairs, but not quite into my bedroom, choosing once again to linger in the doorway. I wanted her to step in, almost told her to, but then she gave a wry little smile and said,

“Honestly, I can’t wait to get back to my wardrobe.”

“I’ll bet,” I said. It was always a little distressing to wear borrowed clothes as a shifter. The scents were never quite right.

“Forget the kidnapping,” Julia went on. “I’m most furious with Arbor for stealing my favorite party dress.”

“The blue one? It was pretty.”

“From the mainland and everything,” she sighed, and I hummed sympathetically as I rifled through my dresser. I couldn’t say I remembered the dress particularly well, besides that Julia had looked distressingly beautiful in it. I hadn’t spared it a thought once I’d stripped it from her body and tossed it into the darkness, too concerned with the soft plane of her stomach and the little hills of her breasts.

I cleared my throat, pulling out my largest, softest tee.

“Here you go. It’s not from the mainland, but it’s clean, I promise.”

“Thanks. I’ll just—” she gestured behind her. My guest room was waiting for her just like it had been the night of Solstice, two weeks and a million years ago. It was torture to let her walk away, to retreat to that cold bedroom with her hot teaand one of my shirts to sleep in. My wolf whined with similar frustration. She should stay here, in my bed, with me.

It had been one thing to pretend I felt nothing for her when we were on Argent, or Ensign, or anywhere that wasn’t here. Back then, it was easy enough to tell myself that whatever this was had an expiration date, that it would end as soon as we returned to our respective homes and life went back to normal. Now, though—now she was in my home. She was sitting at my kitchen table, drinking tea out of my cups; she was dealing with the problems of my Pack as if it were nothing. I had always imagined having a mate as something heavy—just another responsibility for me to manage, another weight for me to carry—but these last few days with Julia had felt so light. The thought of coming home every evening to find her curled on the couch or pottering around the kitchen filled me not with trepidation, but with longing.

In the morning, I was supposed to take her back to Lapine. I was supposed to drop her off and tell her, “See you later,” and return home and carry on life as it had been before. Even the thought of it was like ripping a hole in my chest.

My legs had carried me down the hall before I had time to protest, my fist raised to knock on the door.

“Can I help you?” Julia was wearing my shirt. She was wearing nothing but my shirt—the material swamping her slender body, brushing the tops of her thighs—and her black hair was loose. Her eyelashes looked a little damp, like maybe she’d been crying, but she smiled at me.

“I just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed,” I said.

“Yep,” she replied, and suddenly there was no reason for me to be there.

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay.”

“See you in the morning, then.”

“See you in the morning.”

Neither of us moved. There was no sound but our breathing, heavy in the air. I could smell the mix of our scents coming off her, and I wanted to tell her—what? That she was the most stubborn, infuriating, brilliant woman I’d ever known, and five seconds with her made me forget every other woman I’d ever been with? That I never wanted her to leave? That she’d been right all along, that she was my mate and I was hers, that I didn’t know how I ever could have denied it?

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