Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 73170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I run my hand up his chest to rest on his throat. “It wasn’t. I’m safe. And more importantly, satisfied. I’m right where I’m supposed to be, Jared. This was the best idea. And I have many more good ideas of what we can do to one another in that soft, warm, clean bed in your camper.”
“I’m just gonna get more attached to you,” he mutters.
“Good.”
“Not good, woman. Not good at all. I can’t live my life with this thing on my face, so I don’t accidentally kill you.”
“Who knew? I have a Hannibal Lecter kink.” I shrug.
He looks at me like I’m insane.
I laugh.
He decides to burst my bubble. “And there’s no way I want to sire pups on you and have more monsters like me in the world.”
Ouch. That killed the giggle. Yes, I’ve thought about that too, but I try not to show too much of a reaction. Instead, I shrug. “The witches might figure something out. Or the doctor.”
He goes from tight to fully rigid. “Doctor?”
“Dr. Blakely from the SCC. He’s looking into things too.”
“Fuck!” His heat leaves me, and he sits up straight, clasping his head in his hands. “I won’t have to worry about killin’ you then, because I’ll be in an institution.”
“What?”
“The SCC is gonna show, take custody of me, and put me in an institution to study me. I’m outta here.”
“Wait, what?”
“That’s what they do, Cicely.” He gets to his feet.
“They absolutely will not! Maybe there’s a fix.”
“Or maybe they’ll decide I need to be destroyed.”
“Then let’s go. If you’re leaving, I’m leaving, too.” I get to my feet, too, and dust my legs off.
“You’re not leaving your pack and your whole goddamn life behind for a fucking monster who might kill you,” he mutters like I’m insane.
Maybe I am insane. But I’m also furious. “I’d be leaving my pack and my whole goddamn life behind for my man. My mate. For you, you asshole!” I shove his chest.
He doesn’t budge.
14
JARED
This frustrating, beautiful, satisfied-looking brat stands here nude with wet hair, and my come leaking down her thighs. She’s offering to run away with me, those piercing blue eyes angry at my suggestion it’s unthinkable.
Fuck, she’s strong.
I should just let the SCC take me in. Study me. Incarcerate me. Incinerate me. So I can’t harm her or anyone else again.
Pain pulses in me and right now hers is even more acute than mine. She needs things from me. Assurances. She’s putting herself out there right now with me, offering me everything.
And it’s not in me to bend over backwards to give her everything she wants. Because doing so could be the end of her.
It’s obviously also not in me to control my urges to have her based on what just happened. It took everything I had to stop myself from following her to the shower. I had to toss the keys out of reach to make sure I couldn’t go. Then she shows up, making me both frustrated and relieved at the same time.
The last of my control snapped when she touched me. Nude, vulnerable, pleading, beautiful. Having her plead with my name on those gorgeous lips? Deadly.
“Look at this,” I gesture between us. “You’re offering to throw it all away for a monster you don’t know? One who doesn’t want a family? One who can’t even purr for you?”
She flinches and the look in her eyes tells me she hadn’t thought about the lack of purring yet. I’m not one with my wolf. What I know of typical shifter biology means that she’ll most likely never get that from me. She won’t get most of the benefits that come with being mated to an alpha.
A pack. Safety. A family. The comfort of the alpha’s purr. The only sign of my wolf during coupling so far is the occasional threat I feel with the cold trying to penetrate just before I knot and again just before I come.
“Want some dinner?” she asks.
I stare. This woman.
“My dad’s mate cooked. She made us her delicious beef stew with fluffy dumplings. She also made us a batch of her award-winning chili and a whole bunch of cornbread muffins. Or there’s chicken divan and basmati rice. Or–”
“What the fuck is chicken divan?”
“It’s a creamy chicken and broccoli casserole with a cheesy crust on top. It’s one of my favorites.”
My stomach growls.
“Chicken divan it is.” She squats to grab the towels, fetches the keys from the floor and tosses them at me. I catch them. She leaves.
I hold still, staring at the keys in my hand dumbfounded for a while, before I finally give in, squat, grab the two weapons and follow.
The door is open, and good smells spill out. The radio is on, playing Pearl Jam. She’s microwaving food, wearing one of my flannel shirts.
Fuck sakes.
I jiggle the weapons in my hand and set them on the counter beside her. “These need to be in grabbing distance of you at all times if I’m anywhere near.”