Page 46 of The Weakest Wolf

He stares at me for so long that I return the spoon to the tray. “I’m not hungry. You should—"

Never taking his eyes from mine, he uncrosses his arms and leans toward me. “When was the last time you ate?”

I can’t remember.

“This morning. I had—”

“Stop. Lying. To. Me.” Each bitten word makes me want to recoil.

“I’m not lying. I just—”

“For fuck's sake, just eat the fucking soup,” he snarls.

Gripping the tray, I prepare to move it to the bedside table. I’m not looking forward to seeing how much it hurts my ribs to do it, but I’m not eating soup that comes with a price tag.

His low growl makes me jerk my head up.

He’s closer than he was before.

So close that I can tell he didn’t shave today because I see the beginning of stubble forming on his jaw and chin. “I want nothing in return for the soup.”

I search his eyes, wanting to make sure this isn’t a trick. When I find no hint of deception in his gaze, I lower my head to the soup and look for it there.

“You think I’ve put something in the soup?” He does nothing to hide how ridiculous he thinks I’m being.

My head snaps up. “Two years ago, a guy called Lawrence went hunting for poisonous mushrooms. Do you know what he did with them?”

Galen shakes his head.

“He made a stew for an enforcer called Max. Lawrence knew he could never beat Max in a fight, so he poisoned him instead. He died in agony.”

“Why?” he asks in a less growly voice than I’m used to.

“Lawrence claimed the woman he wanted.”

“And the woman?”

“Ate the stew and died.”

“I’m guessing the alpha didn’t give a shit.”

I give him a hard smile. “Guess you’ve been paying attention after all. But in this case, the alpha did care. Not because Lawrence killed his enforcer, but because of the way he did it. He wouldn’t have batted an eyelid if Lawrence had ripped out someone’s throat. But poisoning? He didn’t like that.”

We stare at each other in silence for several seconds, before he sits back in his seat. “Eat. You don’t have to worry about me feeding you poisonous mushrooms. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t use mushrooms to do it.”

Snorting, I lower my head. “So, what? You’d demand something in return from me, and if you didn’t get it, you’d rip out my throat and be done with it?”

“Something like that,” he mutters.

My first taste of the soup is an experience I wish I could relive over and over.

It’s a bowl of perfectly seasoned broth with chunky chicken and vegetables.

Heaven, in other words.

Although I feel Galen’s eyes on me as I eat, he doesn’t speak until the bowl is half empty. “Want to tell me what triggered a beating like that?”

“What makes you think there was a reason?” I ask as I keep my focus on my bowl. “Maybe it’s just a daily pack activity.”

---