Page 28 of Brutal Alpha Bully

The longer we sit at the table, and as the lasagna disappears from our plates, I start to think that I should apologize to Seraphina. For the things that were my fault—being a dick to her. Taking advantage of her.

When Seraphina sends Nora up to clean up from supper and get ready for bed, I join her at the sink, insisting that I help her with the dishes. She looks exhausted, and I can only imagine how the work from the day would have worn her out.

Rather than jump right into the apology, I clear my throat and decide to ease into it with something else, something I’ve been thinking about, “You know,” I say, clearing my throat again, “when my father passed, he left me some money.”

Seraphina laughs, glancing up at me. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

Are my cheeks getting hot? Am I embarrassed? What the fuck is happening to me right now?

“That’s not the point,” I say through my teeth, trying to steer the conversation back, make it go the way I want. I’ve never been great at talking like this, and Seraphina knows it. “The point is that—with the fire stuff—I just don’t have time to deal with the house. So, if you want to keep doing this stuff, I could pay you.”

“Pay me?” she asks, and when I glance at her, I realize she’s set her dish down in the sink, staring up at me as the water and suds glisten on her wrists.

“Yeah.” Why do I keep clearing my throat? “I mean, when the house is done, and when I head back to Chicago, you’re going to need some money, right?”

Seraphina looks away quickly, shaking her head as she picks up the dish again. “I thought you were going to be mad.”

“Be… mad? That you cleaned? And fixed things in the house?”

When she looks at me again, I understand, and that familiar flavor of dread and anger rolls through me. Something primal, ancient, passed down to me from my grandfather and father before me.

A fear of magic.

“Dammit, Seraphina,” I snap, dropping a bowl into the water a little too hard, making the water rises up and sloshes over the sides. “What thefuck? To my house? With your daughter here?”

“Don’tyou dare comment on how I choose to raise my daughter,” she hisses, pointing her finger at me.

For a second, I want to focus on that comment, unravel it and look inside. Because there’s something there. But I’m too focused on the fact that this woman was in my house all day,casting. Using magic. If my father knew about it, he’d be rolling over in his grave.

“Youcannotuse magic in this house.”

“Then we’re leaving.”

“You are not,” I growl, stepping closer to her, and there’s that familiar tug in my chest, the acknowledgment from my wolf that in every way that matters—every natural, important way—this woman belongs to me.

No matter how many times I deny it to her, or to myself, it’s true. And that means the wolf inside me is going to protect her. Even if that means telling her not to use magic. Even if that means keeping her here in this house. Even if it means suffering under the weight of her angry stare.

“So, you admit that you’re keeping us here against our will.”

“I’ll admit that I’m protecting you. Seraphina, what’s your plan? And what do you think is going to happen the second you try to leave here? Declan is still pissed at you, and my brothers are clearly under his command to get you,andNora.”

“Well, you could help us get away, then.”

“Believe it or not, I’m busy with other stuff.”

It has nothing to do with the fact that I don’t want her to leave. That when I think about leaving Silverville again and not seeing her—or Nora—after that, something tightens in my chest.

“Your grandfather outlawed magic because he wasscaredof it,” Seraphina says, taking a step closer to me, tipping her chin up at me in a way that’s far too familiar. “And you’re blindly following in your footsteps for the exact same reason.”

“I am notafraidof magic.”

“Oh, really?” She raises her hand in demonstration, and I flinch back without thinking, glowering at her when she smirks at me. Stepping closer to her, I scowl right back at her.

“You’d flinch, too, if I raised my hand to you.”

“Then do it,” she dares.

“I would never raise my hand to a woman.”

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