Page 21

A lina

I feel a little delirious.

Not because I got hit in the head by one of those Blackburn oafs, nor because another one of them threw me into the wall once Rowan entered attack mode…but because I’m currently cradled in his arms as he carries me through the front door of my house.

He’s vibrating with fury, jaw clenched tight. His arms feel like iron wrapped around my waist and under my legs because of how tense he is. There’s also a fair amount of blood all over him, and in different circumstances, I might be disgusted, but this strange, out-of-body sensation prevents that.

In truth, I feel weirdly relaxed. Or maybe relaxed isn’t the right word. Maybe this is just the aftereffects of the adrenaline that rushed through me as soon as I realized that I was surrounded by Blackburns, the same shifters who are responsible for the death of my parents.

Maybe it’s just pure, unadulterated relief because I don’t know what I would have done if Rowan didn’t show up.

But Rowan did show up.

He kicks the door shut behind him, then carries me into the living room. He’s never been in here before, but he strides confidently across to the threadbare sofa and deposits me gently onto the couch.

I already texted Zahra to confirm that she could pick up Noah from school today. There are still a few hours until he’s done, but I have a feeling that the day is not going to go back to normal at this point.

We left Tim’s truck at the farm. Rowan muttered something about how Tim is the one who set me up for this attempted murder—or kidnapping, or whatever it was supposed to be—and even though that makes almost no sense to me, there’s no arguing with an Alpha when he’s in this state of mind.

Rowan kneels down beside the couch. He’s covered in blood.

It’s all over his face and smeared down his jaw and neck, spattered across the bare skin of his arms. I can smell it on his breath, and it’s clotted in his hair in places, too.

His shirt is torn at the collar from where he yanked it off too quickly to shift, and now the leftover blood that lingered on his wolf form has soaked into the cotton.

He leans toward me, hands moving toward my head. I cringe back, wrinkling my nose.

“Rowan, you’re covered in blood.”

“Let me check your head.”

I huff. “It’s fine.”

Still, I let him move his palms around the back of my skull, trying not to flinch when he presses against the lump forming from where one of the Blackburns initially struck me down.

He ripped them to pieces. It was glorious and horrifying at the same time. Disgusting, yet sexy. The human me and the wolf me can’t seem to agree on it.

Rowan’s hands move around my head to cup my face. My heart thumps at his proximity, my skin tingling with heat at the simple touch. He peers into my eyes as if he can see right through to my brain. “Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous?”

“No, Rowan, I’m f—”

“Any memory loss? Do you remember your name? The date?”

He’s so concerned about me that he can’t even see that I’m perfectly fine .

“For goodness’ sake, it’s not—”

His blood-caked hands move down to my shoulders. “Did they hurt you anywhere else? Did you hurt yourself when you hit back?”

“Rowan,” I say more firmly. There’s enough sharpness and command in my voice that it reaches through to him. He blinks, meeting my gaze.

“I thought you…” He pauses, swallows hard. “When I went to The Diner, and you weren’t there, and then that asshole said the things he did…”

“I still can’t believe it…I really don’t understand.”

Except, even as I say it, some small bits of old information click into place.

Tim’s younger brother is one of Henry Whiterose’s Betas, a man not much older than me named Jay.

I remember Zahra once mentioned that, when Jay first shifted, a lot of people in the pack got the sense that he was more than just a particularly strong Beta, but a potential Alpha.

I never thought much about it past that, and Zahra made it seem like it was a non-issue.

Henry’s nephew is going to become Alpha, and that’s the end of the story.

But maybe that’s not the end. Maybe that’s not it at all.

My head spins, and I open my mouth to tell Rowan my burgeoning theory, but then a wave of dizziness washes through me.

“Alina?”

“M’fine. Really. I just didn’t have much to eat this morning.”

“Let me make you some food.”

“While you’re still covered in blood?”

For the first time since he hauled me into his truck and booked it back here from the farm, he looks down at himself. He frowns, as if he didn’t even realize the gore from his vicious fight is still all over him.

“Forgot about that,” he murmurs.

“Your clothes are pretty much ruined.”

He swipes at a speck of dried blood on his forearm. “It’s all right. All in a hard day’s work. I have a fresh set in my truck.”

“Shifter essentials.” I gently place my hand over his, the one that’s still resting on my shoulder, and squeeze it. “You can go upstairs and shower. I’ll be fine down here on my own while you do. ”

He quirks a brow at me. “Actually, I’d rather not let you out of my sight.”

“Rowan,” I repeat, once again relying on my Luna voice. “Let me care for you the way that you have cared for me. Go take a shower and change. I’ll rest right here while you do, and then we can eat together. I won’t go anywhere, I promise.”

He furrows his brow. Obviously, he’s not used to being told what to do. His instinct is to argue, to bark back that only he knows what’s best right now.

But, to my surprise, he rises to his feet and nods.

I listen as he heads outside, retrieves what he needs from his truck, then makes his way upstairs.

Closing my eyes, I tap into my wolf senses and pay attention to Rowan’s every tiny movement in the bathroom on the second floor.

I hear the soft rustle of fabric as he locates a clean towel on the rack, then the rougher rustling of him shucking his ruined clothes off.

The water turns on a moment later, and within seconds, I can sense the heat caused by the steam.

I hope he doesn’t mind that the only options to wash himself with are Noah’s children’s brand of body wash and my lavender soap.

Opening my eyes and sitting up on the couch, I tenderly test the spot on my head where I was struck. It’s really not that bad. The skin broke a little, so there’s a bit of dried blood, but it’s certainly not a serious injury.

And yet, Rowan was acting like they’d nearly ripped me to shreds.

I’m touched by how viciously he defended me. Sure, rejected bond or not, the instinct to protect is nearly impossible to resist, but the fact that he acted on it without hesitation means a lot to me.

I glance down at my clothes and realize how dirty I am, too. I’m not covered in blood like Rowan, except for a few slight smears where it rubbed off on me from his skin while he was carrying me, but my clothing is covered in filth from the barn floor.

With a quiet grunt, I haul myself upright and make my way upstairs.

I’m light on my feet as I pass by the bathroom, then go into my bedroom to rummage around in my closet for a fresh outfit.

My cheeks heat as I yank off my T-shirt, then slip out of my jeans, suddenly all too aware of the fact that mine and Rowan’s dreamlike tryst on the rooftop the other night now feels more real than ever.

My eyes dart toward the window that I almost pulled him through that night, so desperate to feel more of him. To feel all of him.

In just my bra and panties, I rummage in my dresser for sweats.

I try to keep myself distracted from memories of the way I fucked myself on Rowan’s strong, capable hand, so unrestrained and wanton.

My focus zeros in on the paltry offerings available to me in the dresser drawers, thanks to the fact that it’s been a while since I’ve had time to do a full load of laundry.

I’m so insistently absorbed in the colors and textures of my clothes that I don’t notice when the shower turns off across the hall. Nor do I notice the graceful, confident footsteps of my Mate as he maneuvers around the bathroom.

In fact, I don’t notice him at all until there’s a quiet throat-clearing sound at the threshold of my bedroom.

I whirl around, temporarily forgetting how little clothing there is on my body, only to find Rowan standing there with damp skin and nothing but a towel slung low on his hips.

His eyes darken when our gazes lock.

“You should be resting,” he says.

I swallow hard, tracking the way his eyes move down the length of my half-naked form.

“My clothes were dirty.” The response comes out a little shaky.

He steps into the room. I try not to stare too hard at the chiseled muscles of his abdomen or the broad, indomitable strength in his chest, shoulders, and arms.

It occurs to me that Rowan has been incredibly generous in our previous altercations. He’s used his tongue and his fingers to make me come, and has expected nothing in return. A faultless giver. A devoted Alpha Mate.

My head spins again. The wolf inside me snarls with desire.

I want him. It’s not just the wolf that wants him. I’m the one who is eager to taste him, to feel him, to have him closer than he should be.

Maybe Zahra is right. There’s no point in trying to separate the wolf from the human. Right now, we are both the same .

Rowan cocks his head to the side. “Alina?”

“I’m fine,” I answer automatically. “Are you?”

The blood is gone, and there isn’t an injury in sight on his perfect body. Not even a bruise. He waves off my question, nodding to the bed.

“You should sit down.”

Even though my immediate urge is to resist the command, I do what he says because if I have to look at him like this any longer, then my bones really are going to turn to liquid.

Then, because apparently my mind has decided to make me spew out the worst possible things right in this otherwise heady moment, I blurt, “You shouldn’t have saved me.”