Page 7

“No.”

Kira Argent is so damn stubborn, she actually crosses her arms over her chest and takes a step back, shaking her head like a disobedient child.

“Kira,” I say, watching the way her name from my mouth makes her body react. Once again, I think about it—just commanding her to get in this fucking car. Watching as she obeys, because nature will make her.

I’m tired as hell, ready to go to bed, and already spent from the absolute torture of keeping my hands to myself for the entire ride back into town. I have next to no patience left for her right now, and the last thing I want is for one of my pack members to come by, questioning what the hell I’m doing in the middle of the night, standing in the road, arguing with this woman.

Worst of all, they’ll wonder, very specifically, what I’m doing with this woman.

“Why did you even bring me here?” she chokes, taking a step back, and I realize her chest is shaking with sobs, tears running down her face, fat and heavy. “What was—what was the point of spending all that money? It’s really worth it to you, just to torture me?”

“No,” I grunt, raising my hands. “If you would just—”

“I get that you’re mad at me,” she says, gasping for air between words, face pained as though remembering what happened. My mind is a whirlwind, thoughts going by too fast for me to pluck one out and present it. “But I just—it wasn’t on purpose, Dorian, I genuinely thought—”

“Kira,” I growl, hand tightening on the truck door, eyes casting to the ground. We have a lot to talk about. I’ve already forgiven her for what happened. I already know that it wasn’t her fault.

And I already believe she was telling the truth about her gift.

We need to talk through all this shit, but the last place I want to do it is in the middle of the road, in the middle of the night, with that thin cloak covering up a little silk slip that makes my mind go fuzzy with lust.

She actually stops, her lips still parted as she breathes hard, and I picture what it would be like to step toward her, drag my thumb over that bottom lip. Breathe her in, haul her body to mine.

If I thought high school was torture, seeing her now is far, far worse. Her body matured, begging to be touched.

“Kira,” I repeat, eyes on hers. I am not influencing her, not using my command as an alpha and the leader of this pack, but just hoping regular old intimidation might work in this case. “You have nobody else in Badlands. You can walk house-to-house, knock on every door, and every single person will turn you away. I am standing here, offering for you to come home with me. It’s my place, or sleep outside.”

She stands very still, eyes watery as she stares at me. Time stretches out between us.

I know I’m being an ass, but I don’t want to have this conversation here. Every instinct in my body is already on high alert because my mate stands here, barely clothed, in the middle of the night.

Kira, more than anything else right now, is vulnerable. And I can’t deal with talking to her about this stuff until she’s safe, tucked away, and I know she’s not going to run off.

After my throat goes dry and my fingers have damn near dug through the door of my truck, she sucks in a breath, looks left and right—as though double-checking that there is absolutely nobody else who can save her—and lets out the breath again.

“Fine.”

With that, she stalks forward, careful to stay far away from me, and hauls herself up into my truck. I take a breath, giving myself a moment to recover from the sudden rush of her scent before shutting the truck door, rounding the side, and climbing back into the driver’s seat.

Kira may hate me, but at least I have her. And now that I’m taking her home, I’m not sure I’m ever going to want to let her go.

***

I punch the key code in at my place, scan my thumbprint, and wait for the door to unlock.

“Wow,” Kira mutters, “paranoid, much?”

She’s pushing past me and into the foyer before I even have a chance to laugh. It’s a reminder of the Kira she used to be, the little girl who would speak her mind around any alpha, never mind the consequences.

The moment I close the door behind me, though, her expression clouds, and she stands on the rug stiffly, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. My gaze travels the length of her once more, from her slightly wild hair to the slippers on her feet, once again catching on the bruise blooming over her cheek.

Her scent is so strong it’s already washing through the room, heady and thick. Clearing my throat, I say, “Uh, do you want to take a shower?”

She looks at me in surprise for a moment, like she actually thought I might have just thrown her in the basement like this.

“Yes,” she finally says, “but I don’t have anything to change into.”

“I’ll call Ash.”

She looks confused until understanding dawns, and she nods once, apparently remembering my sister. “Where—?”

“Upstairs, first door on the right. Towels and stuff in the closet. Use whatever you need.”

Kira still looks unsure, like she thinks the floor might drop out from under her at any moment. I reach over and grip the back of the couch until my knuckles turn white—it’s going to be a lot harder than I thought, being around her like this.

“Okay.” Her voice is quiet, and I hear the sound of her moving up the staircase, and then the door to the bathroom closing, the lock popping definitively. I’m glad it helps her to feel safe.

Rather than let myself think about her undressing, the water running over her smooth, pale skin, I clear my throat and pull my phone from my pocket, dialing Ash.

“What the fuck do you want?” she snaps, the only person in this pack who would dare to speak to me like that. My sister, Ash, also an alpha, but with zero interest in leadership. “It’s the middle of the fucking night, Duckie.”

I could groan at the old nickname, but I keep it in. I need her help, and if I piss her off, she might just hang up on me.

“I need some clothes, Ash.”

There’s a long moment of silence before she says, “Have you finally lost it—am I right? It’s one in the morning, and you’re calling me about clothes?”

Of course she’s not just going to do what I ask without an explanation—I should have known better than to expect that. So I sigh, gather myself, and detail the situation to her. I start at the meeting with the council—leave out the part about the theft—and work up to now, with Kira in my bathroom, undressing, needing some clothes to wear.

“Oh- kay ,” Ash finally says, blowing out a breath. “Not gonna lie, Duckie, I’m not exactly sure what the hell you’re doing here. You just … decided to buy her? On a whim? What kind of evil fucker sells someone at an auction, anyway? And I’m fuzzy on the details, but didn’t she kill Gramps?”

That sentence runs a pick into my heart, and it takes me a second to breathe around it. I don’t blame Ash for saying that—it’s what I thought for a long time. Convinced myself of it. And Ash wasn’t even there to witness it firsthand.

But he was old, and we’d all begged him not to run into the fight. What happened with Kira was unfortunate. Bad timing. Not murder.

“No,” I grunt. “She didn’t. Can you bring clothes or not?”

With a stuttering sigh, Ash relents. “Fine. I’ll be there in five minutes. Turn on the outside light so I don’t break my fucking neck.”