Page 17 of The Alpha's Runaway Mate
For once, I don’t argue. I lean in, and he catches me easily, one arm wrapping around my waist, the other sliding up my back. The tension bleeds out of me all at once. My head finds his shoulder, my heartbeat slowing as the world settles into something quiet, steady, safe.
Nolan exhales against my hair. His hand moves in slow circles between my shoulder blades, grounding me. “Tomorrow,” he says quietly, “we’ll talk about what’s next. But today, you rest.”
My stomach growls before I even realize I’m hungry. The sound fills the quiet room, followed by another deeper one, a low rumble from Nolan that makes my pulse skip.
His eyes narrow. “When’s the last time you ate?”
I shrug, suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t know. Yesterday? Maybe the day before.”
His jaw tightens, that dangerous quiet rolling through him again. “Jessica.” My name comes out like a warning, rough and edged with concern.
“It’s fine,” I say quickly, even though it’s clearlynot.“I wasn’t exactly doing five-course meals at my campsite.”
He mutters something under his breath I don’t catch, then stands with me in his arms moving with that deliberate, quiet strength that makes everything around him feel smaller. Before I can protest, he’s got his hands on my waist, guiding me back against the pillows.
“What are you doing?” I ask, heart still fluttering from earlier.
“Putting you to bed,” he says simply, tucking the blanket over me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His tone brooks no argument.
“I don’t need to be put to bed,” I mumble, but my body betrays me, the second I sink into the warmth of the comforter, exhaustion hits like a tidal wave.
He doesn’t say anything at first, just studies me with that unreadable expression, then grabs the TV remote from the nightstand and sets it in my hand. “Here.”
“Where are you going?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he glances toward the door. “Anything you don’t eat?”
The question catches me off guard. “Uh… no. I’m not picky.”
He nods once, satisfied, and heads for the door. His voice drifts back, calm but commanding. “Stay put, Jessica.”
I roll my eyes, but the corner of my mouth lifts anyway. “Yes, Alpha.”
His answering growl from the hallway is low and amused. “You have no idea what that word means.”
The sound fades as he disappears down the stairs. The house is quiet except for the faint crackle of the fire. I shift deeper under the blankets, the scent of him wrapping around me. The bed’s too soft, too big, too… him, but sleep finds me before I can fight it. When I wake again, sunlight has shifted through the window, spilling gold across the room. My body feels weightless for thefirst time in months. For a second, I forget where I am, until I smell it. Bacon. And pancakes.
My eyes blink open just in time to see Nolan walking back into the room, shirtless, carrying a tray like some kind of grumpy, tattooed breakfast saint. He sets it carefully on the nightstand and looks down at me, his expression unreadable but his eyes softer than I’ve ever seen them. “You needed food,” he says simply, as if it’s an explanation for everything.
I push myself up, rubbing at my eyes. “You made all this?”
“Yeah.” His mouth quirks slightly. “Don’t look so shocked. I can cook.”
I glance at the tray, pancakes stacked high, scrambled eggs, bacon perfectly crisp, a glass of orange juice catching the morning light. My throat tightens unexpectedly. No one’s made me breakfast in… years.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods once, watching me with that same steady, quiet focus that always makes me feel like he’s seeing straight through me. “Eat,” he says, voice gentler now. Then he steps back, giving me space but is never quite out of reach. It hits me fast, this is what safety feels like, fierce, unexpected, and laced with danger.
The food doesn’t last long. I don’t even try to pretend I have manners, I demolish half the plate in silence while Nolan leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me like he’s making sure I don’t disappear. Every now and then, his gaze softens. When I glance up, he looks away, pretending he’s studying the wall instead of me. It’s kind of adorable in a broody, dangerous way.
When I finally finish, my stomach is warm and full for the first time in months. Nolan takes the empty tray from my hands, setting it aside on the nightstand. “Better?” he asks, voice rough but quieter now.
“Yeah,” I say around a sleepy yawn. “A lot better.”
“Good.” His tone drops, that rumble in it again. “You needed that.”
The exhaustion hits all at once, a slow, heavy pull that makes my limbs go weak. I try to push up, but his hand lands gently on my shoulder, easing me back against the pillows.
