Page 45 of His Problem Alpha
"Bullshit," Devon says, following me, his footsteps quick on the hardwood floor. "You've been gone for hours. You look like hell. And you're shutting me out again."
I keep walking, my back to him. "Drop it, Devon."
"No." His voice hardens, losing its worried edge. "We're past this, Alex. You don't get to just disappear and then come back like nothing happened. Not anymore."
I spin around, my own anger flaring to mask the terror churning underneath. "We're not past anything. We're fuck buddies, remember? That's the arrangement. I don't owe you explanations."
His face changes—I see the hurt—and it cuts me, but I have to keep going. I'm protecting him. I have to.
"That's not true and you know it," he says, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. "We're more than that."
"Are we?" I step closer, using my height to loom over him.He has to hate me. It's the only way to keep him safe."BecauseI remember setting very clear boundaries. No relationship. No commitment. Just sex."
He flinches but stands his ground, his chin lifting in defiance. "Then what was last night? What was all of it—the marking, the possessiveness, telling me I'm yours?"
"Biology," I say coldly, the word a betrayal of everything I feel. "Alpha instinct. It doesn't mean anything."
"You're lying," he says, his eyes searching mine. "I can smell it on you. You're terrified right now, but not of me. What happened with Finn? Who is he?"
The fact that he can read me so well is what makes him so dangerous to me, and me to him. I have to end this now, before I weaken.
"An old friend," I say, the words clipped. "From back home. It doesn't concern you."
"It does when it makes you shut down like this," Devon insists. "When it makes you look at me like I'm a stranger."
"Maybe that's all we are," I say, the lie burning my throat. "Strangers who fuck occasionally. Convenient roommates with benefits."
His face pales, but his eyes flash with anger. "That's not what we are and you know it. Stop pushing me away."
"I'm not pushing you away," I say, forcing my voice to remain steady. "I'm just reminding you of the reality of our situation."
"Our situation," he repeats, his voice hollow with disbelief. "Right. Our arrangement." He steps closer, his own scent shifting to something sharper—hurt and anger mingling with a stubborn determination. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't care about me. That all of this has just been convenient sex."
I force myself to meet his gaze, summoning every ounce of self-control I possess. I see the hope warring with the hurt in his eyes, and I have to kill it. "I don't care about you," I say, eachword a lie that tears a new hole in my soul. "This is just sex. It's always been just sex."
He studies my face for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. "You're lying," he says finally, his voice soft but certain. "I don't know why, but you're lying."
"Believe whatever you want," I say, turning away because I can't stand the sight of his pain. "It doesn't change anything."
"Alex." His voice breaks on my name, a sound that splinters what’s left of my heart. "Don't do this. Talk to me. Whatever happened today, we can figure it out together."
Together. The word is a blade twisting in a wound that will never heal. There is no together. There can't be. Not if I want him safe.
"There is no 'we,' Devon," I say, my back still to him. "There never was."
"So the last few weeks meant nothing?" he demands, anger rising in his voice again. "The way you held me through that mini-cycle? The way you panicked when you thought I might be pregnant? That was all just... what? An act?"
The memory of his body curled against mine, his scent during the pregnancy scare—it's almost enough to break my resolve. Almost.
"I was being a decent human being," I say flatly. "Don't confuse basic decency with feelings."
"Fuck you," he spits, his voice trembling now. "I know what I felt. I know what I smelled on you. You care about me. You're just too much of a coward to admit it."
I turn back to him, his word—coward—ringing in my ears. He's right. I am a coward. The self-loathing is a tidal wave, and it's easier to let it drown him than to fight it.
"You want the truth?" I say, the words tasting like poison. "Fine. You're right. I'm a coward. Because I'm not who you thinkI am. I destroy everything I touch. I got my brother killed, and I'll do the same to you if you let me."
The words hang between us, the first honest thing I've said since I walked through the door. Devon's eyes widen, shock and confusion replacing the anger.
