Page 29 of Oath of Revenge

He was being too brazen, too much of an aggressive Growler. He rubbed his own chest where it ached to feel her fear. How could he salvage this and show her he was so much more than just a mindless Growler? Perhaps he could distract her and make her feel more comfortable?

He stretched, his arm no longer bound to his chest with the bandages. The pain had eased to a dull roar. Pain, he could live with. Pain, he was used to.

But he couldn’t live with scaring her.

“I was kissing you,” he said softly, watching her carefully as he thought through how to help her relax around him.

“Wh–why?” she whispered, her fingers flying to her lips. He took a deep breath as the fear faded from her. The only scent that lingered in the air was her arousal, confusion, and anger, the fire in the hearth, and the drying herbs hanging from the rafters.

He couldn’t hold back from her. He wasn’t compelled to tell her through magic, but he wanted no barriers between them. It might not convince her to accept him, but he wanted to give her the world. He would answer any question, complete any task she asked if it meant she’d give him a chance.

“Because you’re my mate,” he said.

She jumped up, her hands waving in front of her in denial, as if to hold him at bay as she watched him warily. “I’m not your fucking mate. You’re crazy.”

He shrugged, feeling the cold dribble of blood and glancing down at his ribs. “I know what I know, and in this, I’m right. But damn if you weren’t right about these ribs. I pulled the stitches free.”

She shifted on the balls of her feet, her hands wavering as her gaze caressed down his body. He felt the lingering gaze like lightning, and his dick jumped under the blanket in response.

She frowned and took a deep breath, her spine straightening. Then she stepped closer and batted his hand away to poke at his ribs with her fingers.

He raised his arm, testing the joint and flexing his stiff muscles to give her better access to his ribs. He enjoyed her fingers on his skin, even as he was hyper aware of her touch. It held its own kind of magic that healed the broken parts of his soul.

Her eyes fluttered as she straightened, following the movement of his bicep and chest. The thrill of the chase slid down his spine like warm rain. She might be surprised at his words, but she wanted him too. The scent of her desire flooded him, and he breathed deeply.

“I’m not your mate,” she murmured, going to the medicine cabinet to take out supplies. Did he detect a hint of disappointment in her tone? Hope flared in his chest.

“You are,” he said. “But we’re not going to argue about it now. You need time to accept it and come around to the idea. I understand that. I’m a patient man.”

Well, he might’ve been once. He really didn’t know.

“Growler, not man,” she said, stomping back over to him with a bowl of gauze, thread, needle, and a little jar of ointment.

How often did he lie awake at night worrying about having lost his humanity? He sucked in a breath at her words, but she didn’t seem to notice.

She glared, “And there’s nothing to accept. We’re not mates.”

He tilted his head to the side, but otherwise stayed still on the chair. He didn’t want his little bunny to run away, and somehow, he knew she was prone to it.

But damn it, he couldn’t let her think he was just going along with her denial. The words bubbled up inside him.

“Actually, you know what? I’m not a patient man at all. But I’ll drop the topic for now if you can look me in the eye, and tell me you don’t feel it,” he growled.

She looked at him, her brow furrowed and her chin jutting out stubbornly. “I. Feel. Nothing.”

Her nose twitched with every word. The smell of her lie filled the air. A slow smile spread across his face, making her scowl. “You don’t really believe that,” he said softly.

Her lips twisted as she gently lathered the ointment on the biggest tear on his ribs. “Of course, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, watching her face carefully. “You’re just saying that because you’ve tried for so long to cut off the emotions. The pain, the heartache. It was the only way you could survive.”

It was something he’d done too, why he’d jumped at the idea to become a Growler and forget all of it.

He didn’t know how he could recognize that within her, but the realization settled in his soul. It was like he’d known her forever, although he didn’t know what had caused her so much pain.

Her hands stilled, her fingers cold on his fur. She avoided his gaze, but he reached out with his good hand and cupped her cheek, tipping her face up until her beautiful green eyes looked into his soul.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, bunny.”

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