Page 26 of Forced Alpha Bride

She’s so beautiful, so sweet and innocent. She’s always lived a safe, comfortable life. It makes her precious. I have to protect her.

A sharp pain twists in my chest, and it’s got nothing to do with my physical state. I need a mate, that’s for certain, and finding one is a duty. But something is rising in me. From somewhere so deep in my soul, I never even knew it existed.

No. I always knew. I just can’t live with it.

Here in the dark, alone except for Winnie’s soft snoring, I can admit that I desperately crave the love of someone like her. I’ve spent my whole life running, never being accepted, never safe. Looking at Winnie is hard, and not just because she’s lived a life I can’t imagine or because this feels like much more than duty. But if I have her, I will never survive losing her.

I jump a little, almost dropping the brandy. Shaking my head, I take another gulp and shove all the uncomfortably soft, fuzzy thoughts away.

I’m just tired. I almost died. My thoughts are a bit screwed up, but it’s okay. I’m not going soft.

When I look back at Winnie to reassure myself that I’m not ridiculously in love, I get another shock when I see her looking straight at me.

“You’re awake,” I say.

She nods. “Where are we?”

“I found the cabin.”

“Oh. So we aren’t home?”

“Not yet.”

She closes her eyes, turning away from me. I suddenly feel rejected, and it makes me angry.

I just saved your life!

“Here,” I say, holding out the bottle. “You should have some.”

“I hate straight alcohol. It will make me sick.”

“Just a sip, it’ll make you feel better. Then I’ll make some tea.”

Winnie sits up, letting the blankets fall off her shoulders as she reaches for the bottle. Her skin glows golden in the light of the fire, and I can’t help but admire her gorgeous curves as the shadows flicker across her body.

“Thanks,” she says, handing the bottle back. “I don’t think I can get up yet.”

“Don’t even try,” I caution. “I’ll make some tea, then we should check on your injuries.”

“Yeah,” she mutters.

I get up quickly and set up the kettle, trying not to think about going over her body with slow, careful attention.

To look for injuries, right?

Yeah. And kiss them all better.

By the time I come back with the tea, Winnie is curled up with the blankets wrapped around her again. She looks up at me with wide eyes, and I can smell her fear.

Sighing, I put the cup down close to her, as well as a packet of biscuits. Then I back away and sit down on the couch, wrapping a blanket around myself.

Winnie stares at me for a few seconds, then eventually reaches for the tea. She takes tiny sips and little nibbles of the sweet biscuits.

“How are your fingers and toes?” I ask.

She jumps a little. “Fine.”

“No frostbite?”