Page 102 of Ruled By The Alpha

“He will go back to his people. They will hunt us down. They will take you from me.”

“No,” I say, stepping closer and placing a hand on Hensta’s arm. “No one will take you from me.”

His face softens, the anger leaching from his body. He releases his grip, and the man falls to the ground. He lies there for several minutes, struggling for breath.

“Go!” I yell at him. “Go before I kill you like I killed your friend. And know that if you ever come back here, you will not live long.”

The man hobbles to his feet and stumbles away, lost in the dark before too long.

When we can see him no more, Hensta pulls me towards him, wrapping his arms tightly around me.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

“Hensta, I am fine,” I say, pushing against his chest and looking up into his face. “I am fine. We are fine.”

He lets out a long huff of breath and nods. “I cannot lose you, Nafia. I can never lose you.”

“You never have, my Alpha, and you never will.”

Perhaps the sensible thing would be to leave this place—although I think it unlikely the man may return with others fromhis tribe. Instead we lie back in the cave, holding each other, reaffirming our promises.

“You are precious to me too, Hensta,” I whisper as finally we drift to sleep, “and I cannot lose you either.”

Chapter 9

The soft fingers of day wake us. The fire has long since died away, but I am not cold. Entwined in Hensta's embrace, I am warm and comfortable.

Happily I would stay here in this little cave with him, but we must go if we ever hope to find our people, and if we hope to avoid another encounter with the other tribes.

Reluctantly, we uncoil our limbs and bind our hides around our bodies, pausing to smile at each other and to press kisses to each other’s warm skin. Many kisses. Kisses that make my stomach flutter.

Then hand in hand, we step out from this place I will never forget and into the sun.

The breeze carries the first signs of our people: the scents of the alphas and omegas, and cooking meat.

We quicken our pace, and my heart leaps when we spy a band of children playing in a tree. They whoop and rush toward us, swarming around our feet to hug and touch us.

I kiss them all, tears of joy streaming down my face, and let them lead me by the hand to our camp.

Soon more of our people spot us, crowding around, all talking at once. I try to answer them as Hensta waits by my side, and then I spy my father, standing with his hand shading his eyes, squinting in my direction.

I turn to Hensta, and he nods.

I take his hand, and he laces his fingers with mine. Then together we walk toward my father.

“You wish to claim her?” my father asks after he has held me in his arms and kissed both of my wet cheeks.

“It has been my wish for as long as I can remember,” Hensta says.

“And finally she has agreed to this?” My father rests his hands on my shoulders and gazes fondly down at me. “Why has it taken you so long to see sense, daughter?”

“Sometimes we don’t see what is resting right under our nose. We don’t always appreciate what we have until we are threatened with its loss.”

“Yes,” my father says, gravely, squeezing my shoulders. “I am happy that you are both home. I am happy to bless this union, to give you my permission, but you do not need it. This is your decision to make, Nafia—and yours, Hensta.” I step away from my father and take Hensta’s hand in mine. My father smiles. “Your mother and sisters will be eager to see you, daughter, and your aunt you, Hensta.”

I nod, but pull Hensta along to the long, swaying grasses. My mother, my sisters, and Hensta’s aunt will have to wait.

Hensta does not protest. I know he wants this as fiercely as I do. That he is just as impatient for it.

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