Page 39 of Rogue Alpha Prince

He sighs.

“I understand. Either way, you deserve more than a quick, angry fuck for your first time,” he says to me, and I don’t know what to say or think.

I just look at him, at his face. His eyes, nose, stubble-covered jaw, and perfectly dark, tanned olive skin contrasting with my fair skin.

I look into his eyes again, wondering why he is acting like this right now. Why doesn’t he reprimand me for not addressing him in a respectful manner? Is he being honest with me? Is he really trying to be considerate?

Doesn’t matter.He literally poured acid on my wounds just ten minutes ago, I remind myself.

He looks back at me, searching for something in my eyes.

“You know, I was excited to bake you some lemon muffins or something before you let your men—well, I’m not anymore,” I confess bitterly.

“I would love lemon muffins, thank you.” He pulls me even closer and kisses me gently.

I stop the Rogue Prince’s kiss, and he bites on his lower lip.

“No, you can’t physically hurt me and then suddenly act all caring like this,” I try to push his naked chest.

“Oh, come on, leave it already. You are a strong werewolf… You are even healed already, look!” He releases me from his grip, and I sit on my heels before him.

I look down with wide eyes, realizing that my ribs didn’t hurt when he pulled me harder for the kiss.

I am completely healed. Fast. Too fast. Without even trying.

Shit! The mate bond is what heals me so quickly, my true mate's touch and kisses.

He can’t know—or some rogue hazing will be the least of my problems!

Chapter 13 – A Lemon-Covered Bed

Ilook up at Cain, the fearsome Rogue Prince, who would kill me on the spot if he knew my secret.

Our secret.

That we are Goddess-given true mates, and he is just too immature to feel it yet.

But the things he said to me this evening… Some of them were not immature at all. That makes me wonder if all the werewolf tales are right. Maybe it’s not maturity that lets us finally feel the bond at some point in adulthood.

Either way, he doesn’t feel it yet, and let’s leave it like that.

“Why did you agree to this whole arranged marriage thing?” I try to distract him but realize he is already distracted.

The way he looks at my body is no longer innocently checking my wounds out. There is nothing pure in those eyes, and I feel so naked. Hell, I am naked.

“I said I’d agree, only if the bride was hot,” he jokes and grabs a towel from the chair behind him, then throws it at me.

“Thanks. But for real, why?”

“Why did you?” he shoots back, looking at me as I stand up and wipe the last drops of water from my body.

“All the right reasons, making it good for my kingdom. I owed it to my people,” I say, going for his chest of drawers to find some large loose shirt to wear. “I was mad it had to be me; I won’t lie—I was very excited about finding my true mate before all of this. But it doesn’t seem like a big deal anymore.”

I turn to see him sitting on the end of a lemon-covered bed. When did he scatter them there? Were they there when I came to the room?

I’m already in his black t-shirt, long enough to cover my butt cheeks, and going to my wardrobe for some panties, when he says: “Don’t bother. I’ll take them off anyway.”

I arch my brow at him but do as he says.

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