Page 15 of Breaking the Alpha (Serpent’s Tongue Ink #2)

A ngelina rubbed her eyes and sat up in bed, listening as the quiet knocking on her door continued.

Armed with her phone in one hand and an onyx incense holder in the other, she crept down the stairs to the door.

She looked through the peephole, set her makeshift weapon down, and flung the door open when she saw River standing on her veranda.

“River? What are you doing here?” She backed up to let him in, her worry ratcheting up when he didn’t move. “Are you okay?”

He seemed almost dazed as he stepped inside and looked around her living room. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I just…I didn’t get your number. I can’t call you without it.”

She took his hand and did a quick visual assessment of him as she shut the door and locked it. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

Snapping out of his trance, he shook his head and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just couldn’t stay in that house. I thought maybe I’d go for a walk until I was too tired to think about it but…what time is it?”

“Three,” she replied, tugging him toward the kitchen. “Come on. I have a spare room downstairs.”

He followed her down a narrow set of steps and squinted when she turned on the dim lamp light to reveal a small but fully furnished bachelor suite.

It was a major selling feature for her when she’d bought the place and she’d had fun doing it up in soft greens and blues.

There was a bed in one corner, two armchairs in the other, a tiny kitchen area, and antique chest where an old TV sat.

Her intention had been to supplement her mortgage payments by renting the suite out, but she’d been unable to get past the discomfort of having a stranger in her safe space, in her home.

The lock on the old door at the top of the stairwell wasn’t nearly enough security to make her comfortable, so the suite sat empty.

Until tonight.

River had a place he could go, but it wasn’t a home. It wasn’t a space where he felt safe. She thought he might adapt, might eventually give up on sleeping at his brother’s store and give his old room a try again.

But tonight she saw how truly hard it was for him to be there. And it only made her more curious about the pieces of his past he still kept hidden from her.

He toed his sneakers off while she turned down the bedding and smoothed her hands over the pillows. “I didn’t mean to come here.”

“I’m glad you did. I worry about you.”

He gave her a flash of a disbelieving eye, but she was being honest. It bothered her to think about him slipping out of his childhood home in the night and sleeping on that small sofa.

And she couldn’t blame him for needing to be away from the house where some of his worst memories were still embedded in the walls.

There were whole towns two states over that she refused to ever drive through again for the same reason.

She filled a glass of water for him and he turned off the lamp before taking off his jeans and shirt, leaving on only his boxers.

With the faint moonlight trickling through the turquoise curtains, she could see the muscled ridges and planes of his body as he moved and the ink covering his chest and arms, extending across his back.

On the outside, he looked like power and strength and perfection.

But the part of him drawing her in wasn’t the illusion he presented. It was the reluctant vulnerability she saw behind it—and the thought that she was probably one of the few privileged enough to be shown that a vulnerable side of him even existed.

He lay back on the bed, tucked his hands behind his head, and sighed with such contentment she couldn’t help but smile. “Comfortable?”

“C’mere.” She sat next to him on the single bed, placed her hand on his, and waited for him to either fall asleep or speak.

“Everything was so normal,” he finally whispered in the dark.

“Sure, there’s some shit going down with the shop, but they’re picking paint colors and eating family meals on fancy place mats and tripping over throw cushions and arguing over who didn’t turn the dryer on.

Normal shit, like nothing ever happened in that house. And I just…I just don’t get how.”

She grazed her fingers across his covered thigh. “They’ve had the time to make their peace with it over the last few years, time to make new memories. You haven’t had that.”

He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “I’m not sure I can. Or want to.” He wrapped his hand around hers. “How was your day?”

“I sold my entire collection of gemstone bulls to a woman on a mission.”

She felt the bed shake as he struggled to stifle a laugh. “I’m amazed those weren’t snatched up the day you set them out.”

Tapping his chest, she shushed him. “They obviously filled a unique void in someone, so they were a sound purchase decision.”

“They were ugly and half of them had wonky, misplaced eyes.”

Unable to hold back, she giggled. “They were a valuable lesson in staying stone-cold sober while shopping online. Again, purposeful.”

He chuckled and they fell into a silence so natural she almost joined him under the covers. “Thank you for opening the door.”

“Thank you for trusting I would.”

*

Angelina wrapped the delicate bracelets one by one, slipped them into a slim paper bag, and eased the receipt inside. “I appreciate your business! Have a wonderful evening.”

The man clutched his treasures and waved as he walked out, nodding politely to River as he strode in with the look of a man who had one thing and one thing only on his mind.

“Hey,” she greeted him, tilting her head to assess his mood. “Everything okay? I thought you’d still be working.”

He stopped and held his hand out. “Phone, please.”

Confused, she reached into her purse and pulled it out. “River? Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, there’s something wrong,” he said, his thumbs flying across her screen until his own cell buzzed.

“And now there isn’t.” He handed back her phone.

“I forgot to get your number when I wandered upstairs to devour your coffee this morning and I have eight minutes before my next client arrives. Call me later?”

“I will,” she promised. “And River? My basement suite is available. You know, in case you’re interested.”

He paused mid-turn. “Yeah? Like, for rent?” When she nodded, he smiled. “I’ll take it. We’ll figure out the details tonight. Deal?”

“Deal.”

He walked out and she watched him through the windows lining her shop, taking her time to admire the view.

As did every other woman in the vicinity, because River was a man with a presence.

He channeled a casual confidence in everything from his prowling gait to the turn of his head—which was trained for maximum effect.

His blue button-down shirt played against the green of his eyes, and his hair was slicked back save for the few strands falling forward across his brow tempting her to reach out and brush them aside.

His jeans lay dangerously low on his hips and the hem of his shirt rode up every so often to give onlookers a glimpse of his v-cut.

Add in the hint of a five-o’clock shadow across his jawline and the ink of his tattoos peeking out from the neckline of his shirt and he was definitely making it into a few fantasies tonight.

Once he was out of sight, she returned to her till and stared at the counter until her vision blurred.

What was she doing offering her basement suite to him?

It was one thing to open her door to him in the middle of the night and give him a few hours of escape from whatever demons he was running from, but this was something else entirely.

Even if she was able to handle having someone else in her space, she had no idea what else—or who else—he may bring along.

Because although she felt like she knew River’s soul, she didn’t know him .

She didn’t know his friends, didn’t know his habits, didn’t know his life.

He had a soon-to-be ex-wife. Three brothers.

An agent. Fans. Any of them could come knocking at her door and she would be unable to turn them away because her renter would welcome them in.

Welcome strangers into her home.

Strangers who could seek her out.

Her vision started to pinhole as the soft music playing through the shop speakers grew muffled. Her fingers latched on to her bracelet on instinct and twirled the misshapen beads one by one until her breathing settled and her senses returned to normal.

Her heart may have made the decision to open her home up to River, but her mind had the final say.

*

River eased his needle through his client’s lip, his fingers deftly sliding the silver ring through in a single motion while Birch snapped a few pictures.

“Okay Jenna, you’re good to go,” he stated, passing the woman a mirror to examine her new piercing. “What do you think?”

She moved to touch it, smiling when he blocked her hand and gently lowered it. “Right. No touching until it heals. It looks amazing.” Looking up at Birch, she made a face and he took another photo. “I want my tongue done next.”

He rolled over to the counter and snapped his gloves off before dropping them in the trash. “Wait three months, minimum. We want this one healed without any issues before we go in for more in the area.”

While he reviewed the care sheet and warning signs with her, Birch continued to take pictures on River’s phone, frowning when it buzzed mid-shot. “You’ve got a text here from Angel.” He captured another handful of images while River passed Jenna the post-piercing pamphlet. “Is that your agent?”

“Gimme that.” River snatched his phone from his brother and read over Angelina’s message before shoving it in his back pocket. “All right, Jenna. I think you’re all set.”

While his client called out her appreciation and followed Birch into the waiting room to pay, he finished cleaning up, doing his best to hide his stupid grin.