Page 12 of Drowned By the Dreadnought

Her scent nearly sends me to my knees, but I push through my jellified muscles and make it to the kitchen before dropping into the only chair.

I wrap a second towel around her legs and tuck the end around her toes, covering her entire bottom half. When her wet hair sticks to my chest, I release a soothing rumble and carefully brush it away from her hand-covered face before tucking a third towel behind her shoulders and closing it over her head.

Knowing I should give her space, but unable to stand the thought of letting her go, I pull her tighter to my chest and release a gentle purr. She resists for several minutes before finally succumbing to the lure of my alpha rumble.

It’s a dirty play, but I’m desperate enough to use it. I wait until the worst of the tension drains from her before reaching for the pitcher on the counter and moving it to the table. Without standing, I grab a cup from beside the sink and several food containers from the fridge before opening the cupboard and selecting my favorite dry goods from the shelf.

I wasn’t planning to return to my den for several days, but I always overstock on necessities. I’ll never suffer food scarcity again.

And neither will my omega. She may reject me until the end of time, but I’m never letting her out of my sight again.

I whisper her name and give her a gentle squeeze before peeking underneath her towel. She refuses to move her hands away from her face.

“I’m sorry, little mouse.”

She presses her hands harder against her face and shakes her head. I sigh and open a few containers with my free hand while I hold her close with the other. She shudders as I pour water into the cup, but no matter how gently I coax her to take a drink, she will not reveal her face.

I bite back a frustrated sigh and deepen my purr instead. Deciding to give her a few minutes to settle, I put the towel back over her head and stroke my hands gently over her back and side, mindful of her bruises. Her shivering stops, and she shifts the tiniest bit toward me.

Since my knuckles won’t fit in the jar, I pour a few pieces of dried seaweed onto the table, pop one into my mouth, and crunch as loud as I can with my mouth closed, hoping to pique her interest. It works. She moves under the towel but doesn’t pull her hand away from her face. I pinch a chip between my finger and thumb and lift the hem to find her peeking one eye out through her digits. She watches as I wave the morsel in front of her and gives the cutest scowl when I pop it into my mouth.

I offer her a new piece. She lifts one hand to take it, shifting the other to block her features, but I tsk, dodge her hands, and slip the bite between her lips.

Her squeak of dismay turns to a moan of delight as she savors the burst of flavor, but despite her obvious enjoyment, she keeps her hands over her face.

I grab another bite, nudge her wrist out of the way, and sneak it into her mouth. She chews without hesitation.

I pour a second item onto the table. Several pieces skitter onto the floor, but I don’t give a fuck. I show her they’re safe to eat by sticking one in my mouth before offering her a bite. The wariness in her gaze hurts my heart, but I deserve it.

I systematically offer her a few pieces of everything I have, leaving a mess on the table while adamantly wiping the crumbs off her cocoon. As the tension slowly drains from her body, I lighten my purr and pick up the glass of water.

“Move your hands, little mouse. Let me see your face.”

She shakes her head.

“At least drink some water,” I plead.

She sighs and peeks through her fingers before clenching her eyes shut and locking me out.

Emotions well up within me as I study her bruised knuckles.

“I’m sorry, Morwenna. I didn’t know,” I say, weaving my words into my purr.

My heart nearly lurches out of my ribcage as she drops her hands to thump my chest. “I told you, but you wouldn’t listen.” Her glare pulses down my spine and gathers in my balls, but exhaustion weighs down my limbs as she shoves at my chest again. “You chose not to believe me.” The grief in her tone shreds my soul. “You hurt me when you left me, and you hurt me when you came back. You’re the worst.” She hits me harder. “I hate you.”

I let her pull the towel over her head and retreat behind her hands.

“You have every right to hate me, little mouse. I should have never believed a word out of your father’s mouth.”

She curls into herself and sobs. I tuck her against my chest and listen to her cry, knowing the pain will forever linger in my heart. Water drips off my wet clothes, adding to the puddles on the kitchen floor, but I rub her back and drop my cheek to the top of her covered head and suck down a lungful of her scent to center myself. My discomfort doesn’t matter as long as she’s safe and warm.

Even through the towels, the floral hint of estrous emanating from her pores grows stronger. With her heat a ticking time bomb and my opportunity to clear the air before she explodes diminishing, I hold her closer and swallow my emotions before speaking.

“We found your father standing over my mother’s body, covered in her blood. My father—”

She yanks the towel off her head and slaps her hand over my mouth.

“I don’t want to hear your lies!” The fire in her eyes steals my breath and hardens my cock. I clamp my hands over my thighs and go statue still, letting her launch into her tirade. She’s long overdue to purge the pain festering in her soul. “Our mothers died in an ambush by a neighboring clan, and when your father went berserk and disappeared, my father offered to take care of you until you were old enough to provide for yourself.”

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