Page 14 of The Alpha's Bullied Rejected Mate

“Hi, you look strong. Are you a superhero?” the boy asked with wide-eyed sincerity. “My name is Riley. What’s your name?”

Marcus blinked, surprised. He let out a laugh he couldn’t help.

“Hi,” he replied, attempting to match the boy’s tone. “My name’s Marcus. And I’m not a superhero…” He paused, letting his voice drop into a teasing hush, “but I met one today. A pretty one.”

Riley’s eyes lit up instantly, curiosity flaring through his features. “Who? Who?” he asked, practically bouncing.

Marcus turned his head toward Aza, who still stood by the door, quiet and motionless, her features unreadable. “Your mom,” he said simply.

Riley’s brows lifted in visible disbelief, his head snapping toward her. Marcus continued before the boy could protest.

“See this?” he pointed to his arm, flexing slightly so the edge of the bruised skin peeked through. “I got hurt today. And your mom? She’s helping it heal.”

The kid smiled at him now. And the action hit him square in the chest. His throat tightened for a beat.

It was probably because he hadn’t interacted with a kid for a long time.

“Mama helps my cuts, too,” Riley added proudly. Then his expression shifted, his brows scrunched up in thought. “But is that a superhero thing? I thought only big people could be superheroes. Like in the books!” he chirped with a childish squeal. “Mama’s not big like me. And she doesn’t fight!”

Marcus chuckled again.

“That’s what most people think,” he said, his brow furrowed and his eyes softening. “That you have to be strong, or tall… But being a superhero… isn’t always about fighting.”

He leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret.

“Sometimes it’s about your powers—”

“But I don’t have any powers,” the boy cut in.

“Sometimes,” Marcus said, lowering his voice with intention, “you don’t need any powers. You just need a big heart.”

Riley tilted his head, considering that.

Marcus continued, his gaze steady. “And Riley, I think you’re stronger than all three of your friends put together.”

Marcus smiled at the boy again, and an unfamiliar warmth brooded in his chest. It was probably because he hadn’t interacted with a child in a long time.

“Okay, sweetie, off to bed now.” Aza moved closer, crouching to gently nudge the boy toward the door that led to his room.

Riley obeyed without protest, flashing his mother a sleepy smile and waving goodnight.

As soon as the door clicked shut, she returned to Marcus’s side. Without a word, she picked up the cotton again and resumed tending to his wound.

“You didn’t mention you had a son,” Marcus said, keeping his voice light, casual, though his mind was anything but that.

“I didn’t mention a lot of things. Especially to someone I just met tonight,” she replied evenly.

Fair. But why was she suddenly on edge?

“I apologize if he overstepped. He’s quite inquisitive,” she added.

“It’s fine. Kids are usually like that,” he replied.

She looked up this time. “You have experience with children?” she asked, and he caught the wariness in her tone.

“No,” he answered truthfully. “Just observation.”

The silence lingered again. She had cleaned the wound and had to wrap a band-aid on his arm. Her touch was... gentle.