Page 91 of Daisy
"Every damn day," I admit. "You look at me like..." I stop. Shift in the chair. "Like I'm gonna hurt you. Like you're just waiting for me to snap."
"Oh." Something changes in her voice. Guilt mixed with something else. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean?—"
"Not your fault." I force my voice gentler. "I know what I look like. Know how big I am. Makes sense you'd be..."
"But I don't want to be afraid of you." Real frustration now. "I know you're good. I know you'd never hurt me. But you're so big and intense, and I don't know how to not feel overwhelmed."
Something loosens in my chest. She doesn't want to be afraid.
Fuck.All this time I thought it was just who I was. The scary alpha. The one people cross the street to avoid. But she's fighting it. Fighting her own fear because she wants to trust me. Wants to know me.
That's more than I dared hope for.
"What would help?" August asks. "What would make you feel less overwhelmed?"
She's quiet. Thinking. That intoxicating sweetness that drives me crazy getting stronger despite those suppressants.
"I think part of it is that I don't know you." She looks at me apologetically. "I know August. I know the others. But you've been keeping your distance. And I have too. I'm sorry for that."
"To give you space."
"I know. But now I want to know you. I want to understand who you are underneath all that intensity."
She wants to know me. And she's apologizing for keeping her distance too. She doesn’t need too.
I clear my throat. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything," she says breathlessly. And I catch that spike of arousal. "What makes you happy? What scares you? What do you want?"
No one other than August has ever asked me that.
"You scare me. How much I... the way you smell, it makes me..." I trail off. Clench my jaw. "Never felt like this. Want tokeep you safe so bad it hurts. Want to claim you so fucking bad I have to..." I gesture to my clenched fists.
Her breath catches. Fresh slick.
"Really?"
"Really. Makes me want to...fuck, keep you safe. Makes me want to bury my face between your thighs and taste you until you forget your own name."
A whimper escapes her. Cheeks flushing pink. But she doesn't look away.
"But you deserve gentle. And I don't know how to be that."
"But you are gentle." Her voice soft. "With August. I've watched you. The way you touch him. You're careful with him."
"That's different."
"How?"
"He's not..." I struggle. "He's not... he knows what he wants. You've been through hell."
"I'm not broken." Steel in her voice. "I'm healing. And I'm learning what I want."
Something in me rumbles approval. She's right. Not broken. Strong. "Little fighter," I murmur, and mean every word.
"What do you want?"
Her scent blooms richer. "I want to not be afraid. I want to choose. And I want..." She stops. Cheeks going darker.
