Page 27 of The Alpha's Runaway Mate
“That’s called independence,” I counter.
He laughs again, the sound low and warm, filling the room. It’s ridiculous how easy this feels, how natural. For the first time in forever, I’m not pretending to be okay. I’m just… me.
He glances over, still smiling. “You really think you’ll stay mad at me forever?”
“I’m already not mad at you,” I admit. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.”
I shake my head, trying not to smile, but it’s useless.
When the laughter fades, we sit there for a while, just listening to the fire crackle. He looks relaxed for the first time since I’ve met him, his hand resting near mine on the couch cushion. Our fingers brush, and it’s like static, warm and sparking and entirely too much.
The bond hums, alive and steady, and I can feel him watching me even when I don’t look his way.
“You’re impossible, you know that?” I murmur finally.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “But you like me anyway.”
I should deny it, should joke it off, but all I can do is look at him and whisper, “Maybe.”
He smiles like he’s just been handed a promise, not a maybe. “Ask you again tomorrow?”
“Every day,” I whisper, smiling back.
His eyes soften, and for a long, suspended moment, we just sit there, me with my legs tucked under me, him with that steady warmth radiating off him like a fire that’ll never burn out.
Tonight I don’t feel like I’m running. I feel like I’ve been found.
Nolan’s gaze drifts down, and before I can ask what he’s thinking, he reaches out and tugs gently at my ankle. “C’mere.”
I blink. “What are you, ”
He pulls my foot into his lap, his hands big and warm as they close around it. “Relax,” he murmurs. “You’ve been walking around on edge for months. Let me help.”
His thumbs press into the arch of my foot, slow and firm, and my breath stutters. The tension I didn’t even know I was holding unravels with every careful stroke.
“Oh my God,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
His mouth curves in that slow, knowing way. “That good, huh?”
I bite my lip, trying not to melt completely into the couch. “You’re, unfair.”
“Just thorough,” he says, his voice a quiet rumble. “Can’t have my mate falling apart on me.”
The wordmateslides through me like warm honey. My chest tightens, and I can feel the bond humming again, a low vibration beneath my skin.
He keeps working his thumbs in lazy circles, never looking away from me. “Better?” he asks finally.
I nod, my voice barely a whisper. “Yeah. Better.”
His smile deepens, soft but sure. “Good. You deserve a little good, Jessica.”
The fire crackles beside us, throwing light across his face and my bare legs, and the whole world narrows to the quiet rhythm of his hands and the low, steady beat of my heart.
His hands slow, his thumbs brushing one last soft stroke across my arch before they still. I think he’s going to let go, but instead, he traces his fingers up my ankle, over the curve of my calf, until my breath catches somewhere between my chest and throat.
The firelight flickers across his face, warm and gold, and the look in his eyes makes my stomach twist, like he’s seeing every part of me I’ve tried to hide.
