Page 20 of The Alpha's Silent Mate

In my old pack, it wasn’t just the women who cooked; the men did too. What surprises me is that Shay, as alpha, knows how to.

“I promise I know what I’m doing,” he murmurs, a smile in his voice.

There’s so much about him I want to know—that I’m desperate to ask him—and this is just one more question I add to the growing list.

How does an alpha know how to cook when he would never need to learn?

The first mouthful confirms that not only does Shay know what he’s doing, but he also does it far better than the cook in my old pack.

After scooping another serving, I hold it to his lips.

He shakes his head. “No, pup. This is yours. Eat.”

I don’t move my hand.

“Stubborn,” he murmurs, but he opens his mouth and I slip the spoon inside.

And that’s how we empty the bowl. One scoop at a time, alternating until it’s all gone.

“You want more?” Shay asks, already rising to his feet with the bowl in his hand.

Shaking my head, I lift my hand to muffle a yawn.

“Still tired, huh?”

I shake my head again, just as another yawn sneaks out.

Shay chuckles as he places the bowl on a small side table beside the bed and slips beneath the furs. “Well, if you’re not tired, maybe I could tell you a story until you are.”

There’s a smile in his voice as he moves me closer. Before I can rest my head against his chest, I suddenly remember, and my gaze jerks toward the large wooden door with a small latch that doesn’t look close to being strong enough to keep a determined fox out, let alone shifters.

“It’s okay. I’ve been patrolling and we’re safe.”

For now, maybe.

Dread forms in the pit of my stomach, the leaden weight getting heavier and heavier the longer I stare at the door.

Shay tugs my head against his chest and presses his lips against my brow. “You’re safe, Lexa. If you’re well enough, we can head back to the courtyard in the morning.”

I lift my head, a question in my eyes.

Why not now?

As usual, I don’t need a notepad or words for Shay to read me. “Trampling through the forest in the pitch black hours after you’ve fallen out of a tree doesn’t sound like a good idea. And you’re not well enough now.”

I nod.

Lowering his head so we’re eye to eye, he slides a hand around my nape. “You’ve only just stopped bleeding, pup. Not only that, you slept for hours, and at no point during those hours were you not whimpering or crying out in pain.”

My eyes widen.

He kisses me again. “So we’re not going anywhere until you’ve rested.”

Despite his determination, I’m not convinced that something won’t happen. We’re alone here and Shay is the fighter. I will if I have to, but my instinct has always been to run. To hide.

Even Dad knew that.

“Pup?” Shay’s fingers on my face are gentle, and his brow creases in concern. “Everything will be okay.”

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