Page 40 of The Alpha's Runaway Mate
We sit on the porch while the stars sharpen overhead, the night wrapped tight around us. The tension coiled in me for months finally starts to ease. I shift closer until my shoulder brushes his.
“So what now?” I murmur.
“Now we deal with both kinds of trouble, mine and yours.” His voice gentles. “Together.”
Neither of us moves for a long time. The world feels smaller here, safer, like the darkness can’t quite reach the porch. He slides an arm around me and I rest my head on his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat steady under my cheek.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. But tonight, with his promise in the air and the phone warm in my pocket, I believe him. I’m not running anymore.
FOURTEEN
NOLAN
Her head settlesagainst my heart, each breath a quiet tide that rises and falls beneath my palm. Her fingers curl in the cotton of my shirt, knuckles whitening as though she fears I might dissolve between her fingers if she loosens her grip. I should find comfort in the steady rhythm of her breathing, but instead my thoughts drift back to dusty patrol roads, ambush sites choked with dead leaves, and the weight of grief that sits in my chest like a stone: brothers I couldn’t save, the echo of their voices calling my name.
My body is here, wrapped protectively around her, yet my mind fights its own battles, replaying nightmares I thought I’d left behind. I stroke slow circles on the small of her back, feeling the lace of her nightdress beneath my thumb, and let my eyes wander to the ceiling’s water-stained tiles. I’m waiting for her to stir, but each second stretches out like a lifetime until finally, her lashes flutter open. They brush lightly against my sternum, and she blinks up at me, still half-lost in sleep.
“You’re quiet,” she murmurs, her voice a gentle pull that tugs me back from darker thoughts. There’s tenderness in thetimbre, a softness I crave and fear in equal measure. I force a small, strained smile. “Just thinking,” I say, though the lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
She shifts, lifting her brows. “You seem… upset.” Concern threads through her tone, and I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Not upset.” My thumb glides over her arm in reassurance. She waits, studying me until I can’t hold her gaze any longer.
“Mad, then? At me? Because of Ethan?”
My chest clenches. The mention of my packmate is enough to twist my insides. I lower my voice. “God, no. You haven’t done anything wrong.” I want her to believe me so badly that the words sting to speak. She exhales and nestles closer, pressing her cheek into my chest as if seeking proof that I mean it. “You’re sure?” she asks, her words a shy tremor against my skin.
“Positive,” I promise, tightening my arms around her waist. For a long moment the world shrinks to her warmth, her steady heartbeat, the push and pull of her breath. But something in me trembles, an urgent truth I can’t ignore any longer.
I shift slightly, letting her rest against my side, then draw in a breath steady enough to still the storm in my chest. “There’s something I need to tell you.” My voice is low, cautious. She props herself up on one elbow, her dark hair falling across her shoulder like a silk curtain. Her eyes, wide and attentive, turn to me.
“Okay.” A single word, but it carries the gravity of every question she’s ever asked me.
I swallow. My gaze flickers to the night sky beyond the porch railing, where stars gleam like distant promises. “About us,” Ibegin, sliding a finger over the rough grain of the wood beneath us. “About the mate bond.” The words hang there, heavy with meaning.
Her brow quivers, curiosity and a hint of worry mingling in her gaze. “The thing you said earlier, that I’m your mate.”
I nod, careful not to rush. “Yeah. It’s more than attraction. More than a fancy title.” I meet her eyes, seeing myself reflected back in surprise and something hopeful. “When shifters find their mate, it’s ancient. Instinct and soul woven together through time. You feel it too, right?”
She looks down at her clasped hands, takes a breath, and then lifts her head again. “I do,” she says softly.
I exhale, relief washing over me like rain. But the hardest part is still to come. I clear my throat. “It’s not complete until I mark you.” My words are gentle steel. “With the bite.”
The moment the words leave my lips, her eyes widen. The moonlight pools on her features, illuminating a flash of fear. “Mark me?” she repeats, voice trembling with uncertainty.
I lean in, bracing myself for the worst. “It’s not about ownership,” I rush on. “But connection. The mark ties our souls. It links your life to mine, brings you under the pack’s protection. It makes you one of us, forever.”
Her breath hitches, and through our bond I catch the drum of her heartbeat, racing in panic. “What happens… when you, when you do that?” she whispers, her words fragile.
I press a hand to her chest, right over where her heart pounds. “You’d be shielded by shifter magic. Our wards would know you’re family. You’d heal faster, age slower. The pack, Kolthimself, would sense if you were in danger. And me… I’d feel it, every time you’re hurt or afraid. There’d be no escaping it.” My voice catches. “No off switch.”
She turns her face away for a heartbeat, wrestling with the weight of it. Then, slowly, she looks back. Her eyes glisten, and I catch a tremor on her lower lip. “That’s… a lot,” she breathes.
“I know,” I whisper. My hand moves to cup her cheek. “And once it’s done…it’s forever. It can’t be undone.”
She goes quiet, staring past me into the veiled darkness. I can sense her mind racing through a hundred fears and hopes, each one a fractal of what our life together might become. Finally she swallows, meets my gaze, and asks the question I dread most. “Do you regret it?”
I tilt my head, my voice raw. “Finding you? Never.” The words feel too small, inadequate to the truth of how every part of me aches for her. She studies me, searching for signs of deception, and when she doesn’t find any, her shoulders sag in relief. But then she tilts her head, brow furrowed. “Then why does talking about it look like killing you?”
I give a hollow laugh. “Because I’m asking you to choose a life you didn’t know existed a week ago. I don’t want you to think I’d ever take that choice from you.”
