Page 42 of The Alpha's Bullied Rejected Mate
Chapter 9 - Marcus
Marcus had been awake for over an hour, but he remained perfectly still. He hadn’t moved a muscle—not even to breathe too deeply because she was still asleep beside him.
Aza.
He hadn’t meant to lie down beside her last night, but the air had been dangerously cold, and she had begun to shiver. Something had snapped inside him instinctively to help her.
She needed warmth. That was all it had been. A practical decision. A protective measure for his mission target.
At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.
But his wolf had bristled at the sight of her shivering. And even now, hours later, his body still burned with the echo of her touch beneath the thin blanket. His wolf had not calmed since. It had paced and growled all night, unsettled by the scent of her so close. Achingly familiar. But it was not her.
He sighed internally.
He watched Aza, his gaze following the quiet rhythm of her breaths. Sleep had softened her sharp edges. The usual guardedness she wore like armor had fallen away, leaving her features exposed. Unburdened and painfully serene in a way he rarely got to see.
One of her hands had curled into a small fist beneath her cheek, and the other was draped across his forearm. The contact stirred something raw in his chest.
What are you doing, Marcus?
That was before she had awoken, jerking upright as though surfacing from a nightmare. Her eyes were wild, unfocused. And he had tried to comfort her, but—
“I don’t need your help.”
The words had unsettled him. Truly, she never did. But for some reason he could not explain—and for whatever magic she obviously had on him that pulled him to her every time—he always felt compelled to protect her.
Marcus stood rigid and walked across the room, his broad frame casting a long shadow across her from where he stood against the pale wash of morning light. His amber eyes burned with confusion.
“Something is wrong,” he pressed again, his voice low and rough.
Aza lifted her chin. “I don’t owe you explanations.”
She shot to her feet, her pulse roaring in her ears. “And you don’t get to pretend to care now.”
The words tore out of her, sharp and venomous. Like years of fury bubbling over all at once. She was on edge, and she needed to calm down.
Marcus’s expression darkened. He closed the distance between them in two strides, his hands snapping out to catch her wrists and pin them against the wall.
Aza gasped at the contact, and he felt the searing heat of his skin against hers.
“Let go,” she hissed.
“Not until you tell me what the hell that was.” His breath was warm against her cheek, his scent filling her lungs.
Aza twisted in his grip, but he held firm. “None of your business,” she spat.
“Everything about you is my business right now, Aza,” he growled, leaning in closer.
“You’re my mission.”
It was true. She was his responsibility now. Because she was his mission.
Not that he cared, he lied to himself again.
She laughed bitterly. “Is that what you tell yourself?”
His fingers tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
