Page 71 of The Alpha's Protective Mate

“Sure.” His chest vibrates with silent laughter, but I lean into him. He smells nice. He smells safe.

With his fingers scratching my aching scalp, I find myself drifting off, exhausted by the day’s events.

******

When I wake up, it’s to the sounds of sizzling bacon and my rumbling stomach. My whole body aches. I groan, trying to turn over, each side hurting more than the previous one. Giving up, I sit up gingerly. The skin on my left cheek is burning under the gauze, and I try to bear the pain. Sitting on the side of the bed, I study the floor blankly.

Arabella showing up. The attack. Robert saving me.

The memories trickle back as sleep fades away, and my soul feels heavy inside me. Hating my sister would be so easy. She has done plenty of things to me over the years for me to despise her. I hated Clyde but never her. In a way, she’s still my weakness.

Why haven’t you killed yourself yet?

Arabella’s words eat at me.

Then, a bitter laugh leaves my lips.

Indeed. Why haven’t I?

I can feel my thoughts taking a dark turn, and I look out the window at the gray sky, my fingers digging into the bed sheet. I may not be as strong or as successful as those of my kind, but I dragged myself out of a shit situation, and I survived. Sometimes, survival is enough. Just because my life is not as bright as Arabella’s doesn’t mean it’s not worth anything. I did become something. I became a survivor.

The darkness in my heart ebbs away as I remind myself of my own small successes and the goals I’ve set for myself.

My head lifts when I hear voices from the kitchen. Slowly getting to my feet, I make my way over to where all the mouth-watering scents are coming from. I thought Robert would have left by now, but clearly, he’s still here.

“Rob—” I begin, only to fall silent at the sight of my kitchen. It’s a mess. I see Mano lapping at a broken egg on the floor while Robert seems to be trying to fry something.

“It’s burning on the bottom!” he says, his voice frustrated. “This is my tenth egg, Aisha!”

A woman’s voice comes from his phone, which is propped up against the backsplash. She sounds just as irritated. “I keep telling you to lower the flame and splash some oil on the egg!”

“How can I splash oil on an egg?!” Robert might be at his wits’ end. “I tried, and the pan began to overflow!”

“Not cold oil, you moron! Use your spatula and gently toss the hot oil on the egg to cook the white!”

“What about the burned part of the egg?”

“Lower the stupid flame! God, Robert! How can you not know how to do something as simple as frying an egg?!”

“It’s not as easy as it looks, okay?” Robert snaps back.

“Even Toby can fry an egg,” the woman apparently named Aisha says, annoyed. “And he’s a kid. If you can’t do it, just order breakfast in for her! You do it for yourself all the time!”

“That’s not the same as cooking for her! I want to make her a nice breakfast. I’m trying to take care of her.”

“Then take care of her by not giving her food poisoning. That would be the kinder thing to do,” the woman retorts.

Robert seems to be in no mood to listen. “What about scrambled eggs? Those are easy, right?”

“Oh, dear God, Robert! The woman just narrowly survived one traumatic encounter. Why are you trying to saddle her with another? You can’t cook. Your cooking might just land her in therapy.”

“If you just want to criticize me, then go away,” Robert says, clearly upset now. “I’m trying to look after her, and you’re not being helpful. This is my first time cooking. It’s not like I know what I’m supposed to be doing!”

A sigh from the other end. “Trust me. Order in. She’ll thank you for it. I have to go now. Morris has a meeting, and Toby can’t find his socks. I’ll call you later. Don’t traumatize that poor woman any more.”

I hear the call end, and Robert sighs.

My eyes flit around the kitchen.

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