Page 51 of Chased By My Grumpy Alpha
“Good girl,” I murmur before crouching next to the sleeping woman. I open the bottle of healing tonic and hold it to her lips. She resists the same way she did last time, but she drinks it. Tossing the bottle aside, I pull her into my arms, between my legs, as I lean against the thick oak tree. She settles against my chest, finding comfort in the warmth.
She fits so well against me, her skin incredibly soft, her breathing deep and even.
How is that someone who has been so badly abused still smiles so readily? Why does she not hold a grudge or hatred inside her heart? Or maybe she does, and she’s just good at hiding it.
Shaking off these thoughts, I try to get some sleep. It doesn’t come easily. Every time I close my eyes, I see her bright smile, the way her eyes glitter when she laughs, the acceptance in her voice when she speaks of her own death.
The idea of it makes my wolf pace restlessly inside my mind, unsure of what it wants.
The next morning, I wake to the unfamiliar weight of someone pressed against my chest. Astra is curled against me, her head tucked under my chin, one hand fisted in my shirt. Luna is sprawled across both our legs like she owns us.
For a moment, I don’t move. My wolf rumbles with satisfaction at having her so close, so trusting.
The scent of her hair fills my senses—something floral and enticing that makes heat coil low in my stomach. I can feel every curve of her body pressed against mine, the way her breasts rise and fall with each breath, the soft exhale that whispers across my throat. My body responds immediately, desire pooling heavy and insistent in my veins.
This is dangerous territory. She is completely unaware of what she’s doing to me, unquestioning and innocent in sleep. But the way she feels, so warm and pliant, makes my wolf pace restlessly with want.
Then she stirs, and I feel the exact moment when she realizes where she is. Her entire body goes rigid.
She scrambles backward so quickly, she nearly trips over her own knapsack, putting several feet of distance between us. Her hair is sticking up at odd angles, and her cheeks are flushed.
“Why was I—” She gestures helplessly between us, her voice slightly breathless. “How did I end up over there? With you?”
I sit up slowly, watching her flustered movements with growing amusement. There’s something deeply satisfying about seeing her so undone, so off balance. The way her face turns that delicate shade of pink, the way she can’t quite meet my eyes…I realize I enjoy having this effect on her.
“You kept crawling over to me during the night.”
“I did not!” The denial bursts out of her instantaneously, indignant and mortified, and I find myself wanting to push her further just to see that flush deepen.
“You did. Multiple times.” I can’t keep the satisfaction out of my voice, and I don’t try to. “Every time I moved you back to your side of the fire, you’d wait about an hour and then migrate over again.”
“That’s—That’s not—” She runs her hands through her tangled hair, making it worse, and the gesture is so flustered and feminine that heat flares through my chest. “I don’t do that. I sleep in one spot. I don’t move.”
“Apparently, you do.” I lean back against the tree, deliberately relaxed, watching her with sadistic pleasure as she squirms.
“Luna!” She turns to her cat as if expecting backup. “Tell him I don’t wander around in my sleep!”
Luna stretches leisurely and gives Astra the most unimpressed look I’ve ever seen from a feline.
“Even your cat knows you’re lying,” I observe, and the way her mortification grows satisfies a primitive part of me.
“She’s not my cat; she’s a traitor,” Astra mutters, glaring at Luna. Then she looks back at me with narrowed eyes. “And you could have woken me up. Told me to stay on my side.”
“I tried. You mumbled something about being cold and burrowed closer.” I let my voice drop slightly, noting how her breath catches at the change in tone.
Her face turns an even deeper shade of red. “I did not ‘burrow.’”
“You definitely burrowed.” I’m enjoying this far too much—the way she gets so worked up, so utterly distraught. It makes me want to find other ways to make her lose her composure.
“Stop saying that!” She covers her face with her hands.
I struggle to fight a smile at her obvious embarrassment. Most women would either deny it happened or try to turn it into some kind of seduction. But Astra is genuinely rattled, completely without artifice, and her innocent reaction makes my pulse quicken.
“Why? It’s the truth.” I can’t stop myself. I want to watch the blush spread across her skin. I enjoy seeing her like this.
“I practically molested you in your sleep,” she moans.
I study her curiously. Shifters aren’t known for practicing celibacy. It’s not in our animals’ nature. That’s not to say our kind is promiscuous, but by the age Astra is, she must have had at least one or two partners. It’s obvious from her reaction, though, that she hasn’t.
