Page 38 of Sold Bullied Mate

The door shuts behind Beth just as I’m climbing the stairs with Kira in my arms. I step into the main bathroom, and when she can’t stay on her feet, I hold her in one arm as I undress her. It’s not easy, but she’s clinging to me, and I don’t have the heart to put her down.

Finally, after her bath is run, she stands on shaking feet and I help her step into the tub. It’s plain, hot water, and I make a note to ask Ash about what kind of shit girls like in their baths—I know Ash has a line of vials, soaps, oils, and salts she puts in to scent her water and “relax.”

The steam rises up from the water and I wet a washcloth, soaping it and running it over Kira’s body. She hums slightly, under her breath, a tune I can’t make out, her head lolling slightly.

I should have asked Beth for more instructions—will Kira need to eat? Should I watch for anything? A year ago Emin gota concussion, and it was imperative that I not let him go to sleep until they were able to scan and make sure there was no additional brain bleeding.

As I look at her, lift her arms and wash beneath them, I wonder about the toll these premonitions might take on her body, how they’ll affect her in the long-term.

After the bath, I drain the water, lift her out, and dry her off. She falls asleep on her feet several times, but I have my hand on her, steadying her.

Fifteen minutes later, I have her in my arms, in my bed, when I get the call from Emin, whose voice is serious and impressed.

“Got there right as the kid hit the water,” Emin says, breathless and shocked. “I can’t believe … does this mean…?”

“Yeah,” I glance down at the top of Kira’s head, where she’s nuzzled against my chest, breathing steadily. “It does. Maybe I didn’t make it clear during the last meeting, but make sure everyone in this pack knows that nobody is to question her abilities from here on out, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Emin says, a rare show of formal language from him. He still sounds shocked. After all this time, he still believed Kira was lying about her abilities, and here she is, having saved that little boy’s life.

When I get off the phone with him, I ignore the aching in my gut and slide down into the bed, pulling her body firmly against mine.

I’m thrumming with need, but I’ll wait until she wakes up, let her sleep this off. The way she moans lightly in her sleep, nuzzling into me again, tells me she’s already thinking about it, too.

Chapter 24 - Kira

“Well, something smells good.”

I turn, grinning, to find Beth standing in the front door. For the first time since moving in with Dorian, I truly feel like myself, wearing a dress I put together from one of my favorite patterns. It’s bright and yellow, matching the way I’ve felt this past week.

My mind flashes with images of Dorian, the hunger in his eyes, the tenderness and roughness with which he handled me all at once. His hand over my mouth, his gaze digging into mine, the constant check-ins, “this okay?” and “you like that?”

Shaking those thoughts from my head, I wave Beth inside, showing her the banana bread on the counter.

“It’s cooled,” I move to the cabinet, pulling out a small plate. “Want a piece?”

“More than anything.”

I slice the bread, pop it onto a plate, and microwave it for just three seconds to warm it. Then I slather a pad of homemade butter on it and push the plate over to her.

“I can see why Dorian has been in such a good mood lately,” Beth says, after the first bite. “This is fantastic.”

My cheeks flush—the food has been good, but that’s not the only reason he’s been in a good mood. I have a feeling it has a lot to do with me waking up in his bed, my hips tucked against his, the soft growl he lets out into my ear each morning as he tugs me against him, already hard and ready.

“Speaking of fantastic,” Beth goes on, her gaze wondering over me, as though looking for signs of damage. “Last week, when you saved that boy—”

I suck in a breath. It’s still weird to hear the praise, the thanks. Dorian told me the family asked me over for dinner, then they sent a bouquet of flowers here, the little white card folded over and addressed to me.

With my heat, I haven’t wanted to leave or see anyone, but the messages came through Dorian. I’d woken up in his arms, in his bed, and every moment after that was a haze of our bodies together, breaks for water and food.

He hadn’t even really wanted me to cook, insisting he could order us something in, but making him wait felt good. Sitting across the table from one another, and watching him finish his meal, bite by bite, only made me want him more.

After Beth finishes her slice of banana bread, we get to work, with her running me through exercises, showing me how to clear my mind. For nearly an hour, we work on reaching for the energy, summoning a premonition.

“It can work with an object, or information,” Beth explains, sliding the plate she was eating from to the center of the table. “Let’s say, for example, that this was your best friend’s favorite plate. It might be imbued with her energy, should she love it enough, hold it long enough. You might be able to use this, or thoughts of her, if you’re close, to summon a premonition about her.”

“How do I ensure it’s from the future?” I run the tips of my fingers over the lip of the plate, thinking about the massive mistake I made in the past. The one that led to the death of Dorian’s grandfather. “And not from the past?”

“It’s a little more tricky,” Beth admits, “but it’s a certain type of energy. We’ll focus on identifying it from when you have the premonitions naturally.”

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