Page 18 of Bred By the Barge

He stops moving. I bury my face in the pile and hiss at the smell of sunlight and soap. The pheromones wafting from my alpha’s chest smell so much better.

I snatch all but one from him, toss the extras at our feet, and rub the fabric over his chest and abs with manic intent. Blood drips from his shoulder, smears over his stomach, and stains the blanket.

I fling it toward the sleeping pad and grab the next closest item off the floor. As I rise, my shoulder bumps against his hard cock. The fluid leaking from his tip makes my mouth water. I trap his shaft between my hands and stroke the sheet over him. He drops his head back and groans, but he remains a living statue as I have my way with him.

Once I deem the fabric properly marked, I throw it toward the sleeping pad and scoop up the blanket under my feet, but hate the tassels hanging from the corners, so I drop it onto the floor and kick it away with an angry snarl.

When I reach for the stack on the highest shelf, thick fingers wrap around my nape. My alpha’s body heat emanates into my back. He leans around me and plucks the stack down with one hand and steps back to balance it at his shoulder height.

I swallow and blink as a moment of clarity blips through me. This is ridiculous. He’s indulging me too much. No alpha should take this kind of abuse from a tiny female.

Except, when our eyes meet, I know without a doubt he wouldn’t change a single thing. He relishes every second. Loves every moment. Cherishes my craziness.

He longs to nurture and protect me.

A fist clamps around my heart and need constricts my womb. I nearly fall to my knees, but the rush of hormones drives me toward the only male I’ve ever wanted.

He shifts the stack between us before I reach him.

The distraction works. I push the entire pile against his front and scrub over the hard planes of his body until enough scent wafts from the fabric.

A cramp folds me in half, but my alpha doesn’t comfort me. I snarl and knock the blankets out of his arms.

His deep purr erases my angst. I sink down onto the sleeping pad and lose myself in nuzzling and sorting the fabric, but when I try to push the first blanket into place, fury rips through me.

I attack the bandages on my hands. Tide’s knuckles block my teeth from tearing at the wrap as he encompasses my hands with his.

“No,” he snarls.

I snarl right back at him. His growl reaches deep into my marrow. Slick gushes down my legs, puddles on the sleeping pad, and soaks the fabric trapped under my knees. My nipples throb. The discomfort in my chest jangles through my nerves.

“Let me be your hands, tiny treasure. Tell me what to do. Guide me. Teach me. I’ll do anything for you. Anything.”

I stare at our joined hands, my mind too overwhelmed to handle peering into his soul when the partial bond between us aches so much.

“Just mark me already. It hurts.”

He captures my wrists in one hand and tilts my chin up with his fingertips.

“I will not give you pain without pleasure.”

Nausea rolls through me as I realize the intensity of his agony. My hormones buffer me from the torture of a partial bond. I forced my mark on him without considering his feelings.

Self-hatred swirls through me.

He weaves his fingers into my hair and gives a warning tug.

“No, tiny treasure, don’t blame yourself. I’ll never regret how I earned your bite. I love your ferocity and will wear your mark with pride. Now use me to build your nest so you have a safe, comfortable place to accept my knot.”

My breath hitches on a sob, but he releases my hair and guides my hands to the nearest blanket.

True to his word, he follows my lead and becomes an extension of my hands, stacking and fluffing when my bandages prove too bulky. When I snarl and elbow him out of the way, he shuffles back without complaint. When I hiss and drape a sheet over the top of another for the second time, he crawls forward and clears the creases away. When I purr in satisfaction after placing the last item, he smiles and grabs another stack of materials off the shelf.

Time ceases to exist. Nothing matters beyond my masterpiece and the alpha who stole my heart.

Layer after layer, pillow after pillow, I build and sink deeper into instincts, until comfort surrounds me and my mate. Our pheromones mingle in the small space.

I guide him onto his back and crawl on top of him, but I can’t settle. Something is missing. I growl and move to whip the top layers off us, but he rolls us over and growls in my ear.

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