Page 54 of Chased By My Grumpy Alpha
Her cheeks are bright red as she watches me play with her hair. It shows her innocence even more when she doesn’t bat me away and focuses on slicing the fruit. The juice drips from her hand down to her elbow, and as she’s about to wipe it off with her shirt, I grasp her wrist and run my tongue along the length of her arm.
There it is. That slightly tangy, musky scent.
Astra is frozen in place. “Wh–What are you doing?”
Her arousal is thick in the air now, and it makes my mouth water. The confusion in her eyes as to her own reaction excites the beast inside me even more.
“I didn’t want to waste anything.” My voice is low, and I can see the flush crawling over her face.
“Oh. Okay. Can you let go of me now?”
Her voice is small and breathy, and my cock hardens in my pants.
My wolf wants her. I want her.
If it were just lust, I could handle it. But this is something else: a desire to possess, to lay claim to her. And I can’t do that.
I release Astra’s wrist and stare moodily into the fire.
She sits beside me quietly, slicing up the fruit, but all the while, her heart is beating faster than normal. For lack of anything else to do, I begin skinning the rabbits and roasting them over the fire.
We eat in silence, lost in our own thoughts. When we’re done, she wraps up our remaining food, and as we begin walking, she hums softly—a sign, I’m beginning to recognize, of her being happy and content.
I don’t know the tune, but it’s relaxing, and I enjoy listening to her. The crickets and birds in the forest around us provide background music.
We’ve been walking for about an hour when she stops abruptly, her earlier embarrassment completely forgotten as her eyes fix on a cluster of pale green plants growing at the base of a massive pine tree.
“Oh,” she breathes, and there’s something almost reverent in her voice. “I can’t believe these are growing here.”
I follow her gaze to what looks like perfectly ordinary weeds. “What are they?”
“They’re…” She pauses, frowning slightly. “I don’t actually know their proper name. But they’re incredibly rare.” She moves toward them, her entire demeanor shifting to focused interest. “My mother’s journal calls them ‘white tears’ because of their shape, but I’ve never seen the official name written anywhere.”
I watch her kneel beside the plants with careful admiration, her fingers hovering over the leaves without touching them.
“What do they do?”
“They’re part of the antidote for nightshade poisoning.” She glances up at me, and I catch the quiet excitement in her voice. Nightshade is a hallucinogenic for our kind. While it’s not incurable, the effects last for weeks.
“An antidote for nightshade?” I ask doubtfully as I scan the forest for any possible threats.
She nods excitedly. “It’s able to stop the effects within a couple of hours. I know. I tried it out on myself.”
“You did what?” All my attention is now on her.
She gives me a bright smile. “I consumed nightshade and tried different antidotes.”
The image of her sitting in her cottage alone, late at night, ingesting poison and then looking for a cure, makes my blood go cold.
“Are you insane?” I demand. “That’s dangerous. Why are you testing antidotes on yourself?!”
“I’ve always done that.” She gives me a blank look, as if I’m the strange one. “Anyway, I need to collect some of these,” she continues, pulling a small, cloth pouch from her knapsack. “They only grow in specific conditions, and I may never find them again.”
“Absolutely not!” I order.
“But I have to! This herb is very rare!” She protests. “And I can sell it for a lot of money once I make the antidote. I’ll give you a share of the proceeds.”
“I don’t need—”
