Page 73 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter
Fine.
If that’s how he wants to play it.
My hands come up to cover myself, clumsy with the aftermath of pleasure and the ache he left behind. I shove the shirt down over my thighs like it can protect me from the way he looks at me—like I’m temptation and trouble, like I’m the thing he wants and can’t allow himself to have.
And now I’m angry.
Furious, even. Not just because he stopped, not just because I wanted more—but because every time I reach for him, he jerks away like I’ve burned him. Because he keeps acting like he’s saving me from himself, and all he’s doing is wounding me deeper.
“How dare you,” I whisper, voice shaking with fury.
His features shift, his mouth parting like he didn’t expect that. “Peach?—”
“No,” I snap. “You don’t get to say my name like that. You kidnapped me. You changed your mind and claimed me. You told me you cared—acted like you wanted to protect me—and then when I let you in, when I gave you somethingreal—you make me feel like I’m disgusting.”
I can’t stop now. The words come like a flood.
“I wanted you. Istillwant you, and that’s the worst part. I don’t even know why—but I let you touch me, I let you mark me, and Iliked it, and now you’re acting like that’s some horrible mistake.”
Tears spill down my cheeks. I don’t even bother wiping them away.
“I need my mate, Javi,” I say, choking on the knot in my throat. “I need you. And you’re the one who keeps pushing me away.”
He takes a slow step toward me.
Then another.
Then—he drops to his knees beside the bed.
The change is so sudden it knocks the wind out of me.
He gathers my calf in his hands and presses a kiss to my knee so gently, so reverently, that it makes my breath catch—and my face flame.
“I’m sorry, Peach,” he says softly. “How could I possibly say you’re what’s wrong, when you’re the only thing I’ve ever done that was right?”
It’s too much. It hits like a blow to the chest. I hiccup a sob as I cover my mouth, heart cracking wide open.
“You don’t get to say something nice now and take it back,” I whisper, because I don’t trust this. I don’t trust him.
I don’t trust myself.
“I don’t want to take it back,” he says. “I’m not…I don’t know how to do this. How to be kind, how to be good. You make me want to be good.”
Tears run down my cheeks. “It’s not my responsibility to make you good!”
“I know,” he groans. “That’s not what I’m trying to say. But I have to tell you—I’ve been pushing you away because I thought you didn’t want this, and that I…”
He stops, resting his cheek against my knee and closing his eyes. He inhales deeply, my scent doing something to him. His features smooth out, finding some internal peace as he draws me close.
“I’m angry at the world for pairing someone as sweet as you with a man like me,” he says. “I want a better life for you…but I can’t fucking resist you.”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to say what we both know is true. I’ve known it since the wolfsbane wore off, maybe—dreaming about him that first night here, taking pleasure in his bite, feeling a deep, lasting comfort when we’re skin to skin. I’ve been wearing this t-shirt for a whole day and I never want to take it off because it has his scent on it.
“This isn’t all an act. You’re my real mate, Peach,” he says. “And it makes this whole situation more dangerous.”
16
PEACHES
