Page 19 of The Alpha's Silent Mate

I smile.

He releases me and moves to get up. “Good. Let me get your—”

My hand closes around his wrist. Although my grip isn’t hard, Shay stops and turns back to me.

“What is it? Are you hurt?”

For several seconds, I do nothing but study him. Even if I was still the girl who spoke, I wouldn’t be able to find the words—not the right ones—to tell him what this means.

He came after me. Saved me. Time has passed—enough that I’m starving, which means it’s been hours, maybe days, and he’s done nothing but care for me.

My body is clean. I’m wrapped in furs, and there’s a hot meal waiting for me. When I take in the fine lines around his eyes, I know it’s because he hasn’t slept. Hasn’t thought of anything but me.

I slide my hand around his nape and draw him toward me.

He comes with no effort at all. When he’s close enough, I press my lips against his in a soft kiss. His response is just as gentle as if, even though I’m okay, he’s still being careful not to hurt me.

After a moment, he draws back, breaking the kiss, and I open my eyes.

“No kissing,” he murmurs, his eyes somehow both tender and needy. “Especially not in bed.”

His fingers brush the hair from my face. “And most definitely not while you’re naked. Okay?”

Since his tone is more playful than serious, I smile and nod.

He kisses me lightly on the lips and rises. “Okay. Let's feed you.”

I watch him cross back to the fire. We were both naked by the lake, so there’s no reason he’d have clothes now. But now, as I observe him scoop a large serving of a thick, fragrant stew into a brown earthenware bowl, I notice his lack of clothes more than ever.

My eyes take in his strong back, his ass, and his thighs and I tell myself not to look anymore. But when he’s hung the ladle on the edge of the pot, and rises, my gaze doesn’t go to the bowl in his hand.

I’ve seen naked men before. Being a shifter means being around naked men and women when we go on runs or we’re coming back from them.

But I’ve never seen anyone like Shay before.

He’s so big. How are we going to—

“Pup?”

I rip my eyes from the evidence of his growing desire to find a half-smile curving his lips. “You look terrified.”

Face hot, I shift my gaze to the wall as he approaches. Not because I’m afraid, but because I can’t trust myself not to look again. And I want to. But not just look—I want to touch. My fingers clench around the fur so I'm not tempted to.

His weight on the edge of the bed makes it dip, and he places the bowl on the furs in my lap. I still don’t look.

“I would fit.”

I turn to give him a doubtful look, my eyebrows raised because I don’t see how. I’m small and he’s… not.

“That’s the miracle about making love. It just works,” he murmurs, his voice husky.

The heat in the cabin shoots up another ten degrees, but I know it doesn’t come from the fire. It’s from inside me.

“But that comes later,” he adds. “After you’ve eaten and are well again. When you’re ready, and only then.”

When he picks up a small hand-carved wooden spoon from the bowl and hands it to me, I take it.

My nose told me what it was long before he brought it to me. Rabbit. But that isn’t what has me pausing before scooping up a serving. It’s how good it looks and smells.

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