Page 68 of Possessive Alpha

“Oh, nice.”

Sitting up, I reach for a bowl as Ty approaches, only to blink in surprise when he bypasses my outstretched arms and gets into bed beside me.

“Uh…”

He sets the tray on the bedside table, gathers me in his arms so I’m sitting crossways in his lap, then picks up a bowl from the bedside table.

“Ty?” I frown. “Uh, what are you doing?”

He grabs a spoon from the bowl and holds it to my mouth. “I like looking after you.”

Such soft, sweet words are too much for me to handle.

My eyes fill with tears.

If I’m not lying to Ty, I’m crying. I don’t know what happened to the Martha Vincent I was before, but this new version keeps surprising me.

Ty puts the spoon back in the bowl, sets the bowl back on the bedside table, and gathers me close. “That’s twice now you’ve looked at me and cried. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I try to look away.

Sighing, he tucks my face against his chest and his steady heartbeats comfort me like nothing else ever has before. “I had a pack before my digging job.”

I wrap my arms around him. “Why are you telling me this?”

He strokes a hand down my back. “So you know I didn’t emerge fully grown from the ground. That I had a life before here, and it’s one I’d like to share with you. You can talk to me, Martha.”

I stare at the window, wondering how the sky could have gotten so dark when it was a rich, inky blue minutes before. “I’m surprised you’re not demanding the answer from me.”

His hand briefly pauses. “Because I’m an alpha?”

I nod.

“I could, I guess,” he admits. “And there are some things I probably will demand from you.”

“Because alphas are so high-maintenance?” I ask innocently.

He growls and I smile. “Because sometimes it’s the fastest way to get what I want.”

And alphas are all about what they want.

“So why aren’t you demanding then?” I ask instead.

He could. I’m not an alpha. I’m not submissive either, but if he truly wanted to order me around, my wolf would eventually submit to him, and I would hate him for it.

“You’re my mate. Not someone to demand I bend to my will. You’re not someone I would ever want to tell me something because I ordered you to.” The savory scent of stew tickles my nose, and he resumes stroking my back. “I want you to tell me the things in your heart because you can trust me to keep those things safe. Like I’d keep you safe.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, fist my hand in his soft cotton pants, and swallow my tears.

But I’m shaking.

There’s no way Ty can’t feel that I’m shaking.

“Martha?”

But I can’t speak, so I just shake my head as a tear slides down my nose and splashes his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Ty doesn’t demand to know why I’ve suddenly started crying all the time.

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