Page 85 of Defiant Beta

The next day, I go to Levi, walking down the hallway and stopping outside a closed door where the faint sounds of groaning bleed through the white wood.

If I hadn’t heard metal chinking periodically, those groans would have made me believe he was up to something else entirely in there.

Once, the thought would have excited me. The old Della would have cracked a joke about busy hands, but this new Della is tired from not getting enough sleep on the living room floor, and alphas make her warier than they used to.

I stand there, knuckles raised to knock.

I’ve just had my shower, and it makes sense to apply the ointment now before I go down to breakfast and start this arrangement with Vincent.

But he’s busy.

I turn to walk away, and he calls out, “Come in!”

I hesitate for a beat, then twist the door open.

His room is identical to mine: all white, a low wood bed, a large window revealing a cloudless blue sky, and closed doors likely leading to a bathroom and closet. All that’s missing is the glass wall overlooking a forest.

I got the room with the view. He has a literal gym on one corner.

He’s sitting on a bench rack, legs wide apart, and as I walk in, he thumps the weight down and sits up.

He’s wearing black boxers. Nothing else. The scars on his back aren’t the only ones he has. Small, circular burns mark his muscular thighs, and he has fine scars that appear paler against his olive skin.

He has other tattoos. The artwork that wraps around his left leg from his ankle to mid-thigh is so dense and intricate that I need to be closer to investigate.

Only when I lift my head to meet his gaze do I realize he was so still, letting me study him.

“You want to stand or lie down for this? I’ll be over here lifting so you can have my bed for however long you need it.”

I don’t want to lie down, but my back felt so much better the longer I let the cream do its thing. And I have to go downstairs to meet Vincent, so it makes sense we do it here and then I go down right after.

“Is your bed clean? Because if it’s nasty?—”

“It’s clean,” he interrupts.

“Okay.” I lie down on my front and order myself to relax. He won’t hurt me. If he hurts me, then I’ll kill him. Easy.

“Give me a sec. Need to wash my hands.”

I get a face full of sharp citrus and warm amber. It soothes me as I wait, breathing it deep.

He will not hurt you. Stop being so damn wired up.

I tense when the mattress dips. After a brief pause, I swallow my sigh of relief when he smears the ointment onto my back.

“It looks a little better today.”

“It doesn’t hurt so much.” I pause. “I wasn’t putting it on before.”

“Thought as much.”

And that’s it.

I twist my head around. “You’re not going to call me an idiot for letting my back get infected?”

He shrugs, his attention on my back. “I did the same thing.” He glances up at me. “I’m done.”

“Thanks.”

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