Page 92 of Claiming the Pack's Omega
God, it’s like I can’t even string together a proper sentence.
“Yeah. I didn’t like thinking about you being alone with the kinds of men that were there at that house," he says, his jaw clenching.
“They’ve never hurt me, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I shrug. “I was too valuable and too cooperative to ever be physically hurt. It was the people who bought my time that I had to be careful around.”
His hand clenches into a fist in the grey comforter at my words.
“They must not have thought you were valuable enough to protect if they sent you into a room alone with me, knowing what I did.”
“And what did you do?”
“I incapacitated five of their guys before they managed to get to me.” He glances away, as if he doesn’t want to expose me to the thought of violence.
It’s sweet. But also unnecessary. I’m no stranger to violence.
Sure, I don’t like it, but still.
Maybe he has that expression because of that borderline panic attack I had in front of him back at The Warehouse. But that wasn’t necessarily because of the violence. It was more from the blood.
“It’s probably why they were so pissed off when they were interrogating me,” Stone continues. “They could barely get a hit in when I was fighting back, so they decided to take it out on me when I couldn’t.”
My gaze gets caught on the bandages around his wrists. Bandages I know cover ugly welts from where the ropes dug into his skin.
“I believe that,” I say, letting out a huff of laughter, a sad smile tugging at my lips as my eyes trail over all the places Iknow he’s injured, even though I can’t see them through his T-shirt. “I’ve seen you fight. I know what you’re capable of.”
His jaw clenches as he stares down at his hands.
I don’t know what possesses me in that moment, but I reach up, tracing my fingertips lightly against his neck until I’m running them through his buzz cut hair. It’s grown out a bit since a few weeks ago, when I first met him.
It’s just as soft as I imagined it would be.
“I’ve never once been afraid of you,” I murmur softly, before pulling my hand away and standing up straight.
His gaze is heavy. I can almost feel it against my skin as if he were actually touching me.
I avoid his gaze. I don’t know if I can be held responsible for my actions if I look into his eyes, especially if they’re as dark with desire as his scent is telegraphing.
Milo makes a quiet, almost nervous noise that snaps me back to reality. I forgot we had a bit of an audience.
“Now then, some of your medications can’t be taken on an empty stomach,” I say, changing the subject. “What kind of food are you feeling?”
It takes him a few seconds to come up with a response.
“We’ve got some frozen food in the freezer. Could you pop a pizza in the oven?”
“An entire pizza?” I ask, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
He jerks his head in a little head-only shrug. Good, he’s not moving his shoulder this time.
“You do have… well, a lot of you to feed,” I say, waving a hand up and down his bulk.
“Yeah," he laughs. “You could say that.”
“Okay, one pizza coming right up.”
Milo’s phone buzzes in his pocket, drawing my attention to him. He winces as he reads whatever message is on there.
“That work?” Stone asks him.
