Page 8 of The Lion's Reluctant Mate

The glass she had been holding smashed into a thousand pieces.She cursed quietly and bent over to retrieve it.He stood and placed his palm on top of her head.She froze.Desire coursed through him.One pull and she’d be at his crotch, one kiss away.Not yet, you pervert.He sunk his fingers in her hair and bit back a growl of satisfaction.Tugging lightly, he forced her to lift her head.She met his gaze, her eyes wide.

“Don’t be afraid, Baby Girl.”Slowly, he crouched so they were eye to eye.“I’m not going to hurt you, Alice.Never.”He released her hair and slid his hand down to cup her cheek.Grasping her chin, he kept her eyes pinned to his.“Tell me what is on your mind.”

She tried to shake her head, but his grip was tight.“No,” she said hoarsely.

“Tell me,” he demanded, lowering his voice an octave.Fear danced in her gentle brown eyes.“I will not judge you.”She shut her eyes, but he’d already seen tears gathering at the corners.

“You won’t?”she murmured.

“Never,” he said vehemently.

A long sigh escaped her body, and she softened in his grip.Somehow, she trusted him and it made his chest burst with pride.

“You’re the king of the jungle, and kings—lions—always have many, um, lionesses.”

“It might be so in the animal world, but we are something different.We have mates, Baby Girl, for life.No other is as alluring to us besides our mate.And then we have family.”He hesitated.“Our pack.Our pride.”

“There are more like you?”

“Yes.I have a pride.”

“Oh.”

“They are there when you need them.They have your back.We work together, but in the end, we are like any other family.”

“I see.”

“What about your family?”

She finally looked at him.He released her and she resumed picking up the pieces of glass.

“They’re nice.I love them.They’re family.”

“But?”he encouraged her to continue.

She gave him a fleeting smile and his heart almost burst from within its constraints.The animal within him purred, pleased with the progress.

“They’re critical.Nothing is good enough for them.”

“So, you’ve been brought up with the idea you should be perfect.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“No one is perfect.”

“That’s what my therapist says.”She snorted.

“But you are practically perfect for me.”

Her gaze reminded him of a trapped prey, wide-eyed and desperate.She scrambled to her feet.

“I’m going to throw this out,” she declared.

He allowed her to go to the kitchen alone.Standing back up, he sat on the couch again and took in the petite apartment.It was cozy, with some photos of the two girls who shared it on the wall along with a large-sized print of Henry Matisse’s,Cat With Red Fish.He wondered if she was an art enthusiast.If she was, she’d love his place.

Patience, Axel.

They had made progress but there was no way she’d agree to go there, yet.

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