Page 94 of Chased By My Grumpy Alpha
The town square is alive with activity. I guide Astra toward a clothing stall, noting the way even the new garments I acquired for her hang loose on her frame. The fabric is already showing wear from days on the road, and there are small tears from branches we have pushed through.
“Pick something,” I tell her, gesturing to the display of dresses and tunics.
“What?” She follows my gaze to the clothes, then looks down at herself. “These are fine.”
“They’re getting worn out.”
“They’re perfectly functional.” Her chin lifts in that stubborn way I’m learning to recognize. “I don’t need new clothes.”
I study her defensive posture, how she crosses her arms over her chest. She doesn’t want anything from me, but I’m not going to let her get her way on this.
“Stay here,” I tell her before I turn to the merchant. “Show me something that won’t fall apart after a few days of travel. In blue or green.”
The merchant nods eagerly and begins pulling out various garments. I have no idea what I’m looking for—clothing has always been selected for me by palace staff—but I know I want something that won’t tear the first time Astra brushes against a branch. More than that, I want to select clothes for my mate. I want her to wear what I have chosen for her.
“This fabric is sturdy,” the merchant says, holding up a soft blue tunic. “Good for traveling, but comfortable against the skin.”
I nod, though I’m essentially guessing. “That one, then. And matching—”
I turn around to show Astra the tunic, but she’s gone.
My jaw clenches as I scan the crowded marketplace. Where the hell has she wandered off to?
“Keep this aside,” I tell the merchant curtly, then stride into the square. It’s not hard to track her down; I simply follow her scent.
I spot Astra inside a small bookstore, and I watch her through the window. She’s holding what appears to be a gardening book and reading with complete absorption, her fingers tracing something on the page.
I stay outside, observing her fascination with the book. Through the bond, I feel her pure contentment—the first genuine happiness I’ve sensed from her in days.
The elderly shopkeeper approaches her, spectacles perched on his nose, and everything changes.
“That’s an excellent choice, miss,” he says. “Very comprehensive guide to medicinal horticulture. Would you like to purchase it?”
Through the bond, I feel her emotions shift violently—from contentment to panic. Her face flushes red as she quickly closes the book and clumsily tries to fit it back on the shelf.
“No, no,” she says in a flustered manner. “I was just looking.”
“Ah, but it’s such a wonderful book,” the shopkeeper persists kindly. “I could sell it to you at a discount—”
“I don’t have any money,” she says, her voice barely audible even to my enhanced hearing. The shame in her tone hits me like a physical blow through our connection. Fury burns through my veins. She could buy the whole fucking bookshop if she wanted to. She never has to worry about money again.
But I can’t tell her that—not yet, and not without revealing my identity. She already doesn’t trust me. If she finds out I have been lying to her for weeks, she will despise me.
I wait a moment longer, watching as she carefully finishes putting the book back in its place and starts moving toward the exit with obvious reluctance.
I push open the door and step inside casually. “Find something you like?”
She startles, her face flushing deeper. “No. Nothing interesting.” She’s already halfway past me, clearly wanting to escape before I can ask more questions.
“Are you sure?” I take her hand and lead her back to the shelf where she was browsing, easily spotting the gardening book she was absorbed in. I pull it out before she can stop me. “This looks good. We’ll take it,” I tell the shopkeeper.
“Lucian, no.” Astra’s voice is strained. “I don’t need it.”
I ignore her completely, pulling out a gold coin and placing it on the counter. The man’s eyes widen at the sight of it. “That should cover it,” I say.
“Oh yes, sir! More than enough!” He moves quickly, wrapping the book with understandable excitement at the generous payment.
“Lucian, please,” Astra tries again, but I pay no regard to her protests.
