Page 23 of The Wolf's Mate

Do I think Rip is going to hurt me? I’m wary around men in general because what woman isn’t? I’ve had my fair share of bad men who left me scarred, not only physically, but mentally as well. So, yeah, maybe I am projecting on Rip.

But do I really think this man is going to hurt me?

“No,” I say, surprising myself. “I don’t think you’d intentionally hurt me, Rip.”

Rip’s body relaxes. When he takes my hand again, I don’t flinch, not wanting to cause any more problems. “Then someone else made you fear touch.” Silence stretches between us. “Know this, Hettie. I can’t promise you much right now, but I can promise you I will never hurt you. You will never know fear when we are alone. I give you my word.”

This isn’t the first time a man has promised he wouldn’t ever hurt me, but it is the first time I believed someone. For all of Rip’s faults, I know in this he speaks the truth. “I believe you,” I whisper, but the words sound loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Rip holds my attention a moment longer and then nods. Something unspoken passes between us. A small part of the armor we both wear crumbles away. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

“Good.” He abruptly moves back to his side of the bed, leaving me wondering if what just happened between us is something I simply imagined. He slips into the bed next to me, keeping a respectable distance between us. For good measure, though, I construct a mountain of pillows between us.

“Is that necessary?” he asks, deadpan, once I’m finished.

“Very,” I hum.

I swear I hear him chuckle, but it’s faint. “Sleep well. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

“What’s tomorrow?”

The bed dips again. I feel Rip moving to make himself comfortable. Soon the room is silent once again, and the last thing I hear before sleep overtakes me is, “Answers, Dove. Answers.”

Chapter 11

Rip

Sleep didn’t come easily last night. No one but me has ever slept the entire night in my bed. I prefer to have my own space, even when I entertained previous lovers. It was always in their space or a guest room. Having Hettie so close, her lavender scent all over the pillows and blankets, drove me half mad with lust. My cock doesn’t realize that the woman next to us is strictly off-limits.

When dawn finally comes, and the first rays of the morning sun filter through the slightly ajar window, I surrender my battle with sleep and finally get up. Hettie, apparently, didn’t have the same problem.

My mate is curled up in her blanket, her thick hair splayed across the pillow. She’s out cold and doesn’t so much as stir when I get off the bed. In fact, she knocks down the pillow wall between us and moves her body to the center of the bed. Not once waking up.

I let her sleep while I get ready. Today, Hettie gets her answers. She’s pack now. She’s mine, and she needs to be informed about the curse taking over our pack. Ender is certain she can help, but without the proper knowledge, she wields a dull blade.

I rarely bother with a shirt, but today I look through my meager collection and wonder what her favorite color is. Green? Blue? It’s fucking stupid, but I grab the green shirt, thinking Hettie might like it on me best. I pull on my pants just as someone knocks on the door.

A moment later, it opens, and a beta pushes in a cart full of food. The smell of maple syrup hits my senses first, and my stomach growls.

“Do you require anything else, King Alpha?” the beta asks, doing his best not to stare at the woman in my bed. By now, the entire pack knows of Hettie’s arrival. Some, if not all, also know I bonded with her last night. We didn’t pass many of my people on our way back from the ceremony, but it only takes one look at Hettie’s neck to piece together a picture. Word spread quickly after that, I’m sure.

“No, that’s all.”

The beta nods, and his curiosity gets the best of him. He turns his attention to Hettie. Only her top half is covered by the blanket because she wiggled so much throughout the night. The smooth, golden expanse of her legs is on full display. Her gown is hiked up indecently, showing off more of her thigh than I want this beta to see.

I growl a low warning, and the beta quickly looks away, straightening up. “Leave.” My command is harsher than I intend, but it’s effective. The beta trips over himself on the way to the door.

Only once he’s out and far down the hallway do I approach my sleeping mate. I gently touch my hand to her shoulder, half expecting her to flinch from me like she does when she’s awake, but Hettie doesn’t. She turns into my hand, rubbing her damn cheek against it. My little dove is scenting me.

I’m tempted to stay here for however fucking long Hettie remains asleep…but we don’t have the time for such luxuries. “Hettie, it’s time to wake up.” I gently shake her, but Hettie slaps my hand away.

“Hettie—”

“I heard you,” she hisses. Her eyes flutter open, giving me the perfect view of her hazel irises, reminding me of aged tree bark. She purses her red lips in a pout as she pulls the covers up to her chin. “It’s early,” she mutters.

I nod. “It is.”

“Then I’ll sleep.” She goes to turn away from me, but I stop her before she can, which earns me a name I’ve never heard before but doesn’t sound pleasant.

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