Page 44 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter
“Yes I do,” I say. “I planned an escape from this place once before, remember?”
He pauses to glare at me. “Trust me,” he says.
I shrug. “Okay.”
As if I have any reason to trust him.
I busy myself scrubbing my skin raw, careful not to touch the bite mark. It throbs every time I get near it, like it’s angry that the bite wasn’t immediately followed by consummation. That’s the way it’s supposed to be—but nothing about this is normal, according to the norms of anywhere I’ve ever lived. I’m sure the alphas out there think Javi is having the time of his life in here, but it seems like he wants to run screaming away from the Rig just as much as I do.
The water gets cold while he searches the room. There’s no towel in sight, and the wound on my neck is still raw—too raw. A tremble shakes my body, forcing me to stand up and look for a towel. The closest one is by the door, and I clear my throat to get Javi to bring it to me so I don’t track water all over the floor.
Such a silly thing to think about.
Tracking water on the floor when my life is at risk.
He turns around and, for a split second, his face changes. He drinks me in with those green eyes, his gaze sliding over my body like the touch of a lover.
It feels…
I don’t know.
I blush bright pink, covering myself as best I can.
“The towel?” I ask, gesturing at it with a nod of my head.
It’s like he catches himself in the moment—and remembers he hates me. He schools his expression and looks past me again, then picks up the towel and tosses it my way.
“Thank you,” I squeak.
I wrap myself up in it, trying to hide my body, my shame, and even the stubborn desire that won’t seem to go away.
“Fuck,” he curses. “You’re still bleeding.”
I reach up to touch the bite, fingertips brushing lightly over broken skin—and immediately hiss, sucking in a sharp breath as pain flares through me. It’s not just tender. It’sraw.Still bleeding. Still angry.
Itshouldhave healed by now.
I close my eyes, fighting the wave of nausea and heat that rolls through me, trying to blink back tears. But when I open them again, Javi is right in front of me.
Close.
Closer than I expected.
His brows are drawn, his jaw tight, and for once, he doesn’t look distant or unreadable. He looks…concerned. His gaze flicks from my face to the wound at my throat. His mouth opens—like he wants to say something—but then he shuts it again, jaw flexing.
“We should get a medic,” he says roughly.
“No!” My voice is sharp, panicked. I reach for him without thinking, my fingers curling around his wrist. “No one here will help me. They’ll hurt me worse. We can’t trust anyone here.”
His brows furrow. “It needs to be treated,” he insists. “I don’t know why it isn’t healing.”
“Because you’re not my mate,” I blurt.
The words hang between us, brittle and bright.
His face changes. Just a flicker—his eyes going dark, mouth thinning, a sharp inhale. He doesn’t flinch, but he doesn’t meet my gaze either.
“You believe that stuff?” he mutters.
