Page 7 of The Alpha's Silent Mate

A hard blow knocks me to the ground. I land on my hands and knees, blinking in confusion. Until a low growl makes me jerk my head up.

A white-gray wolf springs at my attacker and takes him down, his teeth at his throat. And then red. All I see is red. Lifting my hand, I brush away the blood splashes from my cheeks as I stare, wide-eyed.

The white-gray wolf shifts, a smooth melding of a wolf into man—and then I’m staring at Shay, his body flecked with blood.

He doesn’t move for a long time. Since my fear is so sharp I can taste it, he must smell it. His eyes settle on my cheek, and a low growl rumbles from his throat.

My heart spikes, and his eyes jerk back to mine. “It’s okay, Lexa. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

With slow, deliberate steps, he approaches until he’s close enough to touch. He pauses. When I don’t retreat, he sinks into a crouch, his eyes searching my face. “Are you hurt anywhere else, pup?”

I want to tell him that I’m not a pup, but something about the word—or maybe it’s the way he says it—makes my eyes fill with tears.

I’m in his arms, my face pressed against his throat with no memory of how I got there.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now,” Shay murmurs. “You’re safe with me.”

* * *

Shay’s touch is light as he swipes a soft, damp cloth over my face, wiping away all traces of blood.

“I would ask what you were doing in the forest, but I have a feeling I already know,” he says, his eyes on the cloth in his hand.

I shift my gaze to the red tulips someone has painted on the bathroom wall. Do all bathrooms have flowers painted on them, or is it just mine? What flower does Shay have on his?

After Shay carried me back to my bedroom, he told Ewan to send someone to deal with the body. Whatever that means.

This time I didn’t even have to speak and someone is dead.

“Lexa?”

Shay draws my attention back to him. Sitting on the bathroom counter with him standing in front of me doesn’t leave me with many places I can avoid his gaze. So I meet it head-on as I wait for him to shout at me, tell me he’s locking the door now, or any number of things that reveal I was wrong to trust him.

“I need you to be safe.”

I blink at him in surprise.

What?

One corner of his lips turns up. “Yes,need.”

Because I’m his mate. What he’s feeling is only because of that. I turn my attention back to the wall. He would feel the same way—act the same way—if it was any other woman who happened to be his mate.

He grips my chin and gently turns my face back to his. After giving me a searching look, he tosses the cloth in the sink behind me and steps closer. “If you’re not safe, then nothing else matters. Do you understand, Lexa?”

I take in his sober expression, and I think I do.

Blood still spots his hair and covers his chest, because he didn’t stop to dress or even wipe his face. The only thing he cared about was making sure I was okay.

There’s so much blood that it should horrify me, but it doesn’t.

I lift my fingers to touch his strong jaw, but before I can, he grows so utterly still that I know he’s stopped breathing.

Maybe he doesn’t want me to.

But one glimpse at the heat in his eyes and I know I’m wrong. He wants me to touch him, so I do. I trace his firm jaw with one finger before I turn my attention to his mouth. The tips of my fingers whisper over his lower lip, and his soft exhale makes warm air dance over my skin.

“Lexa,” he breathes, moving closer.

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