Page 22 of Brutal Alpha (Nightfire Islands Alphas #2)

Julia’s tone was purely inquisitive, with no accusation or offense in her voice, yet I still felt vaguely guilty as I turned back to face her.

Why did I feel bad about Julia when it was Lacey whom I had just unceremoniously rejected?

Usually, when I wasn’t in the mood for a hookup, I let them down gently, but that night my wolf’s hackles had risen the moment she leaned into my space, and I had to end the encounter before he started snapping.

“Just Lacey. She uh—she wanted to welcome me back home,” I said. It was true enough. I didn’t need to go into the details of what her welcome would have entailed. I wasn’t interested in it.

“That’s nice of her,” said Julia, mildly. “Are the two of you close?”

“I mean, not really. In a certain way, I suppose.” Lacey might have spent a few nights in my bed, but she didn’t know any more about me than other Pack members, besides perhaps the color of my sheets. She’d never even stayed the night.

“You can just say you hooked up,” Julia said, in the same tone she always used when she was teasing me. I’d thought she might be jealous, but there was no sign of it in her expression.

“I thought you’d be—I don’t know—bothered,” I replied.

It was absolutely and completely unfair of me to be bothered that she wasn’t bothered.

I had been the one to insist that what was between us was nothing more than attraction, nothing more than I had experienced with Lacey or a dozen other females.

Despite myself, I was quickly realizing that I had been wrong about that from the start.

“I’m not the boss of you,” Julia shrugged.

“Can I get that in writing?” I replied on instinct, and she smiled.

“Shut up.”

I wanted to tell her that she didn’t have anything to worry about, but that wouldn’t make sense.

We weren’t together. Did I want us to be together?

I knew I didn’t want any other male anywhere near her.

I couldn’t imagine being with another female.

I knew that when I touched her, I felt electric, and she’d said from the beginning that we were mates, and perhaps I was starting to believe her.

“I just—you know I’m…” The words wouldn’t come. I floundered.

“A bit of a slut?”

“Sure,” I admitted. She was right, but that wasn’t what I was trying to say.

“I just never really—I never wanted anything long-term. I didn’t want to worry about someone else’s feelings when I already had a whole Pack’s worth of feelings to worry about.

Besides, I didn’t want to get attached to someone who wasn’t my mate—not that I even wanted a mate, or a family, or any of that, really.

” The words were pouring out of me, but none of them were right.

“I only—I only ever picked women I knew there was no danger I would fall for. Lacey’s nice and all, but I don’t exactly want to spend time with her when we’re not—this is coming out wrong. ”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” said Julia. “I’m not judging you.”

“I know, but—”

“I kind of just want to go to bed.”

I was surprised by the sudden bluntness of it, but she did look tired.

Her voice was flat, and her gaze lacked its usual mischievous sparkle.

We’d run across two islands and gone on an impromptu forest hike today; it was no wonder she needed her rest. Maybe I did, too.

Maybe in the morning I’d be better with my words.

“Right. It’s been a long day,” I agreed. “Let me find something for you to sleep in.”

She followed me up the stairs, but not quite into my bedroom, choosing once again to linger in the doorway. I wanted her to step in, almost told her to, but then she gave a wry little smile and said,

“Honestly, I can’t wait to get back to my wardrobe.”

“I’ll bet,” I said. It was always a little distressing to wear borrowed clothes as a shifter. The scents were never quite right.

“Forget the kidnapping,” Julia went on. “I’m most furious with Arbor for stealing my favorite party dress.”

“The blue one? It was pretty.”

“From the mainland and everything,” she sighed, and I hummed sympathetically as I rifled through my dresser.

I couldn’t say I remembered the dress particularly well, besides that Julia had looked distressingly beautiful in it.

I hadn’t spared it a thought once I’d stripped it from her body and tossed it into the darkness, too concerned with the soft plane of her stomach and the little hills of her breasts.

I cleared my throat, pulling out my largest, softest tee.

“Here you go. It’s not from the mainland, but it’s clean, I promise.”

“Thanks. I’ll just—” she gestured behind her.

My guest room was waiting for her just like it had been the night of Solstice, two weeks and a million years ago.

It was torture to let her walk away, to retreat to that cold bedroom with her hot tea and one of my shirts to sleep in.

My wolf whined with similar frustration.

She should stay here, in my bed, with me.

It had been one thing to pretend I felt nothing for her when we were on Argent, or Ensign, or anywhere that wasn’t here.

Back then, it was easy enough to tell myself that whatever this was had an expiration date, that it would end as soon as we returned to our respective homes and life went back to normal.

Now, though—now she was in my home. She was sitting at my kitchen table, drinking tea out of my cups; she was dealing with the problems of my Pack as if it were nothing.

I had always imagined having a mate as something heavy—just another responsibility for me to manage, another weight for me to carry—but these last few days with Julia had felt so light.

The thought of coming home every evening to find her curled on the couch or pottering around the kitchen filled me not with trepidation, but with longing.

In the morning, I was supposed to take her back to Lapine. I was supposed to drop her off and tell her, “See you later,” and return home and carry on life as it had been before. Even the thought of it was like ripping a hole in my chest.

My legs had carried me down the hall before I had time to protest, my fist raised to knock on the door.

“Can I help you?” Julia was wearing my shirt. She was wearing nothing but my shirt—the material swamping her slender body, brushing the tops of her thighs—and her black hair was loose. Her eyelashes looked a little damp, like maybe she’d been crying, but she smiled at me.

“I just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed,” I said.

“Yep,” she replied, and suddenly there was no reason for me to be there.

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay.”

“See you in the morning, then.”

“See you in the morning.”

Neither of us moved. There was no sound but our breathing, heavy in the air.

I could smell the mix of our scents coming off her, and I wanted to tell her—what?

That she was the most stubborn, infuriating, brilliant woman I’d ever known, and five seconds with her made me forget every other woman I’d ever been with?

That I never wanted her to leave? That she’d been right all along, that she was my mate and I was hers, that I didn’t know how I ever could have denied it?

I reached across the space, needing to feel her pressed against me, to map the shape of her body with my fingers and my lips, to remind myself she was here and she was real and she was mine.

Her breath hitched as my hand found her waist, and she allowed herself to be pulled in close against my chest. This close, her scent was maddening, and the soft skin of her neck was begging for attention.

Like a magnet drawn to its opposing pole, my lips found the junction of her shoulder and neck, dropping one, two, three light kisses to the spot that I was itching to mark.

Next came teasing nips, and she tipped her head to give me better access.

The give of her flesh beneath my teeth was beautiful, and I lavished attention on that spot before moving up to her neck, kissing and nibbling until I reached the sharp line of her jaw, where I sucked a mark beneath her ear.

Julia gasped, her hands flying up to grip my biceps, and I pulled back just enough to look her in the eye, a hand on her chin, keeping her face turned up to mine.

Her pupil was blown wide, her mouth open, and her breath already coming in soft little pants.

She truly was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen: sharp, arresting, and completely captivating.

Absurdly, my heart felt as though it might beat out of my chest as I leaned down to brush my lips against hers.

She tasted floral, like chamomile, and when I took her top lip into my mouth, she released the prettiest little whimper.

I let her go, only to return for more, pressing my lips to hers again and again.

She met me with desperation, trembling in my arms, and I tried my best to soothe her, slowing the pace of the kiss and stroking gently up and down her back.

Would she calm once I got her on my knot, I wondered.

Did she need me as much as I needed her?

I’d give her whatever she wanted, whatever she wanted for the rest of our lives.

I slipped a knee between her legs, pulling her impossibly closer and groaning as I realized she wasn’t wearing underwear beneath my shirt.

For a few glorious seconds, I could feel the wet heat of her pussy against my thigh as she ground down on the muscle there, shivering with pleasure in my arms.

I was ready to scoop her up and carry her to my room, to lie her back on my bed and take my time with her, to fuck her so well she couldn’t remember her own name by the time I sank my teeth into her shoulder and marked her as mine for everyone to see—then she stepped away.

Her cheeks were flushed, her lips red and kiss-bitten, her breath coming fast, and I needed her back in my arms again.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I meant what I said before. I really am tired.” She glanced behind her at the guest room’s twin bed, and when she turned to face me again, her eyes stayed firmly on the floor. “I should probably—probably just go to bed.”

I gaped at her for a moment, too drunk on lust to form a coherent thought.

“Right,” I said eventually. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

She stepped back again, her hand on the door, and it took everything I had not to follow her, not to gather her up in my arms and take her to bed with me anyway.

“Sleep well,” said Julia, as she closed the door on me.

I stood in the corridor, my dick tenting my sweatpants, wondering what the hell had just happened.

Perhaps she really was just tired—we’d had a long day, after all.

Maybe she needed a bit of space after the Lacey thing.

I tried not to think about other options—that she’d grown bored of me, that she was punishing me for rejecting her before—as I forced myself to retreat back down the hallway to my own bedroom.

I wasn’t owed an explanation from her right now.

In the morning, I could talk to her properly. A good night’s rest would help me organize my thoughts, and by morning, I would be able to say all the things I hadn’t been able to say. In the morning, everything would feel right. I would make sure of it.