Page 76 of Possessive Alpha

He probably isn’t expecting me to crawl into his lap, straddling him. “You mean that?”

He slides his hand into my hair, fisting it before he shakes me slightly. “If I haven’t left you with the lasting impression that I would crawl into hell for you, then I’ve done something very wrong.”

I’m still processing that when he kisses me. Soft and sweet, yet somehow still fierce. Possessive. “You’re my heart, Martha. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

I see the fierce look in his eyes, and I think I would crawl through hell for him and not complain about the heat even once. “Don’t tie me to a bed again. I don’t like it.”

He nods. “I won’t.”

“Unless I get to tie you down, then maybe I might not mind it so much.”

His eyes heat with amusement as he strokes a hand down my back. “That so?”

I nod firmly. “It is.”

And then we go back to staring at each other.

“Do you want to tie me down now or later?” he asks.

I blink at the rapid change in conversation. “What?”

“I’m curious what you intend to do to me while I’m tied down that you wouldn’t do while I’m free.”

I snort, not believing him. “You’re an alpha. As if you’d let anyone tie you down.”

He lifts me and places me in bed.

After examining the broken belt strap, he tosses it aside and picks up a T-shirt from the floor. Then he partially shifts his right hand into claws, shreds the T-shirt, and passes the strips to me. “Here.”

“Why?” I ask him, bemused.

When I don’t take the strips, he ties a cotton strip around the headboard and lies down before lifting his hands to loop the fabric around his wrists again and again until it pulls taut. It’s a rough-and-ready way of tying yourself to a bed, and he does it without hesitation. “You don’t trust your mate to put you first, and you don’t have faith in a pack to watch your back. I trust you, so whatever you want to do to me, do it.”

The restraints are only cotton, so he could break free easily, but he relaxes against the sheets, making no move to free himself.

“I could walk out of here,” I warn him. “I might not want to do anything but leave.”

His smile is faint as he shakes his head. Not smug, but… confident. “You don’t want to leave me, Martha. I don’t think you ever have.”

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“You spent two weeks running from room to room to get away from me, but there’s one obvious thing you didn’t do.”

“Run from Dawley,” I say softly.

He nods once.

“I’m used to being the one Clara trusts to watch her back,” I admit. “I’m used to relying on me and only me.”

“And who watches your back?” he asks quietly. “Who do you rely on?”

I don’t respond.

“Martha?”

I shake my head.

I’ve never found—or had—anyone I trusted enough to watch over me or Clara.

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