Page 31 of Brutal Alpha's Sold Mate
A laugh bubbles out of me, surprising us both. “That’s what you call it?”
He smirks. “You call it something else?”
The tension eases a fraction, and I realize how close we are. My battered side aches, but I’m hyperaware of him—his closeness, the concern in his features. I clench my fists in my lap, torn between the impulse to hug him or shove him away.
His hand settles on my uninjured side. “You’re shaking. Lie down or something.”
I scowl, but it’s half-hearted. “Lying down isn’t going to fix this knot in my chest.”
He searches my face, reading me in a way that feels unsettlingly intimate. “Then let it out.”
I open my mouth to protest, but a flood of emotions comes roaring out before I can stop them—anger at the attacker, fury at the poison, shame for needing rescue, fear that I could’ve died. By the time I’ve cycled through them all, I’m breathing unevenly, and my eyes sting with tears I refuse to let fall.
His arms go around me with a gentle pull. I stiffen at first, then sink into it, letting my forehead press against his shoulder. I hate how much comfort I find there, but I can’t turn it away.
He strokes my hair. “It’s okay,” he mutters. “You’ve been carrying too much alone.”
I swallow hard. My chest heaves with the lingering adrenaline and the echo of terror. Finally, I pull back, wiping at my face. “Thanks,” I whisper.
When I look at him again, there’s a new awareness. Blood still streaks his arms, reminding me that he tore that man apart to save me. Yet, here he is, gentle, real. My stomach flutters with that dangerous sort of gratitude that can spiral into something else.
He brushes a thumb across my cheek, clearing a bit of dirt. “You sure you’re all right?”
I can’t speak, so I nod. Even that feels insufficient.
His gaze lingers on my lips, then flicks to my eyes. Everything slows. My heartbeat throbs in my ears, and I realize I’m leaning closer, almost subconsciously. His hand drifts to cradle the side of my face, and that small gesture snaps any restraint I have left.
I close the gap, or maybe he does. Either way, our mouths meet in a kiss that shatters the tension in one abrupt moment. It’s hungry and desperate, fueled by fear and relief and something bigger. I grip his shoulders, half pulling him against me, half steadying my own shaking body. His warmth seeps in, chasing away the horror of the clearing, the body, the danger.
A small sound escapes me when he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. I taste urgency and the salt of sweat and maybe a hint of blood on his lips. My mind buzzes. He’s the guy who bought me, but right now, I can’t care about the bigger implications. All I know is that in this moment, we’re alive.
My battered ribs protest when I try to press closer. I grunt, pulling back. He immediately loosens his hold. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t apologize,” I manage, trying to catch my breath. “Just give me something else to think about.”
“I won’t hurt you.”
I rest my forehead against his. My side aches, my limbs shake, and my mind races. But the closeness, the comforting brush of his hand down my back, settles me in a way I can’t explain. “One day,” I say softly, “I’m going to be strong again. And I won’t need rescuing.”
“You’re already strong,” he counters. “You just have a temporary disadvantage. That doesn’t define who you are.”
I press my lips to his again, though softer this time, letting the heat swirl around us in a gentler wave. For a second, I wish things were different, that I hadn’t been attacked and poisoned, that I was healthy and capable of kicking ass like the old days. But right now, the present is enough. He’s enough.
When his tongue sweeps along my bottom lip, a shiver rolls down my spine. This is a distraction I can get lost in.
As the kiss deepens, he sits beside me and pulls me onto his lap. He’s gentle, but there’s no mistaking the heat building between us. He kisses a path along my jaw, and my pulse thrums under his lips. I want more, so much more, and that desire scares me, but I’m helpless against it.
My hands drift to his chest, roaming across the expanse. He’s still naked from the shift, something I hadn’t even realized until now, because I was so rattled. He’s solid and warm, and I can’t deny how good he feels.
I tug him toward me again, kissing him more fiercely as I adjust my body to straddle him. He groans, and the sound goes straight through me, making me dizzy with need.
He trails a line of kisses down my throat, nipping a spot where my neck meets my shoulder. My body shudders at the contact, and my hips press forward instinctively. The sensation is electric. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this.
“Kai,” he breathes my name like a caress.
The sound of his voice sends a new thrill through me. I’m aching for him, and his desire is obvious, but there’s an edge of tenderness that undoes me. He’s not treating me like some object or a victim. He’s looking at me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he blinks.
I want this, need this. It’s been too long since I’ve felt anything but anger or frustration or pain. I’ve lost track of where the fear ended and the arousal began. All I know is Theo’s touch makes everything else fade.
