Page 95 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
She looks confused. “Well, no.”
Her nonchalance stuns me. “You didn’t even consider me when making this decision?”
“This was before you came here, Erik,” Fiona says quietly. “I’ve told you to go back to the palace. Forget about me. You have enough on your plate without worrying about stalking me.”
Her words hurt more than my wound. She reaches for a new washcloth and starts to wet it. I curl my hand around her wrist, stopping her. “Leave it.”
She looks up at me, startled. “I have to clean you up. What if you get an infection?”
“Why do you care?” I say harshly. “It’s got nothing to do with you. Whatever happens to me, it’s all the same to you, right?”
Her eyes widen. “That’s not—Why are you being this way?”
I quickly pull on my shirt and walk past her. “I’m leaving.”
“You can’t leave like this!” She follows me, sounding upset. “Your wound could get infected! You need to get it looked at. Even if it will heal itself, you still have to clean it first.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” I say coolly. “Let it get infected. Wouldn’t you be better off without me around?”
Am I being dramatic? Yes.
“Don’t be stupid!” She blocks my path. “You’ll get sick!”
“So?” I confront her. “Weren’t you the one who wanted me gone?”
“Gone,” she repeats through gritted teeth. “Not dead.”
“Gone, dead, does it even matter to you?” I walk around her, but she blocks the door this time.
“You’re being a child!”
“Why do you care what happens to me?” I ask her again.
The silence that follows my question is heavy. “I—Griffin needs you.”
“No, he doesn’t. I’ve already told him I won’t be returning,” I shoot back.
Her lips move as she struggles with this news. Finally, she bursts out, “Why are you so impossible?! You’re the most frustrating, annoying, pig-headed man I have ever—”
I cup her face in my hands and kiss her, swallowing the rest of the sentence.
Her body stiffens, and then it relaxes. I expect her to pull away and slap me, but she leans into the kiss. A deep, ravenous hunger stirs within me, a longing for something only she can give me.
She pours herself into the kiss, hands climbing to my neck, my jaw, like she’s trying to pull me back from a cliff I just tried to walk off.
My restraint shatters.
I groan into her mouth, pulling her against me again, one hand gripping the curve of her hip through the damp cotton. Her mouth opens under mine, and when our tongues meet, the world around us seems to tilt sideways.
She clings to me like a lifeline. My hands slip beneath her shirt, finding warm skin. And then, scars. I trace one without thinking, a deep one just beneath her ribs. She flinches—not from fear, but from the mere fact that I’m touching it.
I pull back instantly. “Did I hurt you?”
She shakes her head, eyes dark with heat and confusion. “N–No. It’s just…No one has ever touched me like that. Without hurting me.”
I swear something inside me shatters at this. I lean in, resting my forehead against hers. “Then, let me show you how it’s supposed to feel.”
When I sense her hesitation, I feel myself breaking, and my voice becomes rough. “No strings. I just—I need you, Fiona. I can’t do this anymore, not without you.”
