Page 159 of Ruled By The Alpha

Rosemary didn’t know the voice. It was her own, and yet…not. The voice implored her to comfort him, as if she had anyidea how to do that. But with every press of his lips, every slow blink of his eyelashes, and every pained bob of his Adam’s apple, Rosemary grew certain she wanted to try.

“There’s a lot I don’t know, yes.” She lifted her head, forcing herself to be brave. “But I’m not a child, and no stranger to grief.”

Samson’s eyes drifted closed, deep creases marring his forehead as if the weight of his history carved this claim on his body. “Have you always lived here?” he asked after a moment. Rosemary recognized the change of subject, hurt by his insistence on protecting her in this way. But she let it go, understanding she had no right to demand he disclose the ugly past to her.

“Yes.” She set the porridge bowl aside, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Papa came here many years ago. I don’t know how many, exactly. He wouldn’t say much about his life before TheEnd, but there was a wife, and children, grandchildren. After he… lost everything, he packed what he’d need to build this place. He rode until the road ended, then he hiked till he couldn’t go any farther, and that’s here.”

Samson’s eyes opened again, his curiosity plain. “And your mother?” The corner of his lip ticked upward. “Unless he found you under a rock somewhere?”

“Nothing so fanciful,” she huffed with amusement. “Papa was already an old man at TheEnd and thought he would die of grief or old age. But he didn’t, and eventually he decided to return to where people were, to see what was happening. Somewhere on that journey, he met my mother and brought her back.” She shrugged, “I was born shortly thereafter.”

Samson was quiet a long moment. For the first time since she’d brought him here, the tension in his body eased in an approximation of peace. Rosemary had the vision of herself snuggled up next to him, telling stories and conversing togetherin a lazy morning repose. The picture hummed an enticing chord inside her, prompting a sudden longing for something much less carnal and much more comforting.

“And your mother?” she asked cautiously. “You asked for her in your delirium.”

“As far as I know, she’s still with the Pack.” Samson’s eyes clouded with pain, but this time, he didn’t hide the rush of emotion that broke through his strong voice. “I didn’t want to leave them…”

Rosemary leaned in, impulsively wrapping a hand around his firm forearm. “You didn’t have any other choice.”

He scoffed. “You don’t know that.”

“I think I do.” She squeezed his arm for emphasis, the touch feeling strangely natural. If he wasn’t tied up, she could enfold him in a hug, the enticing idea of which nearly outweighed the risk. “It hurts you to even speak of it. You must’ve had good reason to leave.”

He lifted his eyes, bitterness still flickering in their hazel depths. “You’re far too trusting, Rosie.”

Her ready retort dried up in her mouth, dispelled by the nickname that rolled off his lips. After a life of never being called anything but Rosemary, it tickled a giddy fluttering in her stomach. She wanted to unleash the world’s biggest grin and never stop smiling, but stopped short, only allowing the barest quiver to betray her delight.

“A funny observation for someone who’s tied up,” she said, withdrawing her hand from his body. It suddenly felt too weird to touch him freely while referencing his captivity.

He hesitated before asking in an odd, gentle tone, “Where are your parents?”

She bent her head and studied her twisting fingers, not wanting to dredge up the pain she’d securely tucked away. Yet the strange, new intimacy pushed her on. Samson had lost hisfather, and left his mother and his whole family behind. If he could bravely forge on, heading west on little more than a whispered prayer, then she could share her tale.

“When I was five,” she began, “Mama died in childbed. My baby brother was too big for her body, and—” Unexpected loss punched her the throat as the echoes of their dying screams filled her mind. “I was young, but I remember. Papa held me so tight, I thought I might die too. He sobbed and kept saying, ‘I still have you, Rosemary. I still have you.’?”

She thumbed away a tear. “After that, he never let me out of his sight. We did everything together, and he taught me everything. We lived like that for many years, until he got sick. He would make jokes about death catching up to him after all this time, but I was so scared.”

Using her sleeve, she erased a few more silent tears, remembering the late nights of insomnia and worry over her future. “I buried him a little way from here. Papa…” She half-laughed through a clog in her throat. “…helped dig his own grave. Some days he was so weak he could hardly manage to pick up the spade, but… well… you probably get how stubborn he was.”

“Rosie.” Samson sighed out her name, his eyes overflowing with feeling. “I’m so sorry.”

“That was…” She tilted her head, the tears receding naturally. “…five years ago.”

“And you’ve been alone since then.” His voice was tender, barely above a murmur.

She hummed in agreement. “I think… I think there are many ways to be alone. You’re no stranger to heartache either, Samson.”

Samson’s broad, tanned hand, reached for her. Fighting the restraint, it stretched as far as it could go, fingertips taut and seeking. Without hesitation, she answered the request, theirpalms aligning like two puzzle pieces sliding into place. Tender reassurance flowed over her skin, so strong it felt like a physical thing. And as her guts unfurled and her fragmented nerves stilled, itbecamea physical thing.

And then he began to purr.

Chapter 7

Rosemary

The ache pounded like a trapped animal trying to escape. It unfolded and grew, expanding in her body and her mind, disturbing her waking hours and jarring her from fitful sleep.

She’d gone to bed early, feeling sweaty and tired andraw, but rest eluded her. Samson grew concerned—she could tell by the worry in his mystical eyes and his repeated purrs—but he said nothing. The discomfort simmered, homing in onhimas its target, just as the infuriating Alpha had predicted. Rosemary gnashed her psychic teeth against this. How could he understand her body better than she did?She’dbeen the occupant of this body for thirty years, not him!

---