Page 63 of Rogue Games

But as he stares at me, all alpha, his jaw set in a hard line, the reality of my situation dawns. I don’t have a choice. If I wasn’t injured, I think he’d pick me up and carry me inside kicking and screaming.

“You don’t want me back at the packhouse with the others, because you don’t want me asking questions. And because they’ll scent you all over me.”

Dean doesn’t answer, but I see his jaw working, grinding his back teeth to dust as I stubbornly keep my feet rooted to the spot. “You’re making it sound worse than it is. I’m trying to protect you.”

“It doesn’t feel like that.”

He takes a step toward me, before groaning with exasperation and pointing to the door again. “Please, Jamie.”

With a sigh, I give in, my curiosity getting the better of me. I think back to the staged office in the packhouse and the alpha suite he lets his friend live in. Nothing I’ve seen so far has helped me get any insight into the real Dean, but this place seems to be different.

I take in the potted flowers, the Adirondack chairs pointed toward the view of the lake, the small table, perfect for eating outside. There are lanterns of all different heights set back in the corners. It must be stunning to sit out here in the evening and watch a sunset. With the lanterns lit, it would be romantic.

“Fine. But you better have food.”

Dean raises both eyebrows in disbelief at my brazenness. “The one thing I always have, little rogue, is food.”

My stomach rumbles loudly, and amusement dances in his eyes as I trudge up the steps. I’ll let him feed me, get a hot shower and some clean clothes, and take a nap. He can’t keep me trapped here forever.

“That was easier than I expected,” he comments dryly as I pass.

“I’m tired, and I’m hungry. If I had more energy to fight with you, I would.” I scowl and glare at him over my shoulder, delighted when his cheeks pink, caught staring at my ass.

JAMIE: Wyatt, I’m back at Dean’s to get some food and a shower. I hope you’re taking it easy and getting ready for round two

WYATT: Are you okay? Do you need me to come over?

I steal a glance at Dean, his eyes glazed over as he mind-links his pack. His leadership team has probably been doing his bidding all morning, but apparently, it’s none of my business.

JAMIE: No. I’m going to get some sleep and rest. I’ll see you later.

The last thing I need is for Wyatt to realise something happened between us. He’ll kick up a fuss and get himself disqualified. It’s best to let him concentrate on the competition.

Dean pours me a glass of water and hands it over, careful not to touch me.

“So, what happened to Joel and Samuel then?” I ask. I think back to his angry demand to know who hurt me and my insides coil tight. His protective, possessive side does funny things to me. This dismissive, domineering side, not so much.

“Oh, now you’re interested,” he says, pointing to the sofa and expecting me to sit. “We have Joel, and Samuel won’t get far.”

When I stubbornly remain on my feet, he gives me a stern look, speaking over his shoulder as he disappears down the hall.

I wander around his large open plan living area, breathing in his intoxicating scent. It’s warm and inviting, and lived in, like a real home. I can’t resist touching everything.

Part of me expected more cold and sterile furnishings. I’m slightly stunned to see a sideboard filled with photographs of various members of the pack. As my tired brain tries to reconcile these two sides to him, exhaustion washes over me.

My knees wobble, almost buckling beneath me, telling me it’s time for a nap now, snooping later.

“I have to deal with the contestants who couldn’t finish the course, work out who gets to stay and who goes home. But it won't take too long.”

He’s making it sound like I’m a house guest rather than a prisoner.

I know Dean knows who I am. I saw it in his eyes when I asked if Maggie was still alive. And still, he didn’t put me out of my misery and tell me what happened to her, making me even more convinced she’s still here.

“Can I go for a run?” I ask, trying to look as innocent as I can.

Dean scoffs, like my request is so ridiculous, so preposterous, I may as well have asked if I could fly to the moon. “Eh, no. Your body needs to heal.”

I wanted to shift on the walk home, or at least attempt to, so we could get back faster. Dean told me, point blank, he’d rescind his offer to let me stay here if I even thought about running on all fours.

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