Page 39 of The Strongest Wolf

“An alpha.”

Frustration creases her eyes. “But that’s not what I am.”

“I said before that you were the strongest wolf I’ve ever met, but what I can’t understand is why you’re determined to think of yourself as the weakest.”

Silence.

“Why is that, Sierra?”

She shakes her head but clings to her silence.

“What can I do to make you believe there’s a strength in you that goes beyond any label?”

Her gaze searches mine. “Why are you so determined to make me believe it?”

Because I love you, and I wish you’d see what I saw when I looked at you.

“You don’t want to hear the answer to that question, little wolf,” I murmur.

From the understanding that flares in her eyes, she knows. She lifts her hand and her fingers touch my jaw, stroking the stubble I need to shave soon before the itch drives me crazy.

As if she reads my irritation, her gentle strokes are soothing. I hum in contentment. “What is your house like?”

Her question surprises me. At first.

But then I realize what she’s doing, and relief fills me. Bracing my weight on my elbows so I’m not in danger of crushing her, I relax as she continues to stroke my jaw with her eyes trained on her fingers. “Not as big as the Blackshaw pack house. It’s an old ten-bedroom house that was falling apart, but we rebuilt it.”

“You and Dom?”

“And some of the others.”

“I didn’t know you could build houses.”

Her fingers relax me so effortlessly that I’m in danger of falling asleep. Not what I’d intended when I told her I’d make dinner. She offered to help, but I liked the idea of her watching me from bed in just my t-shirt more than I needed her help. “I told you I was a laborer after I left my old pack. Fixing things was something I learned to get good at real quick if I wanted to eat.”

“Are they like the Blackshaws?” Her question is quiet, but I hear the emotion she tries to hide.

Fear.

“They are nothing like the Stones, but they aren’t like the Blackshaws either.”

Her eyes lift from my chin. “What are they like?”

I stroke back the hair from her face. “A little wary at first, but when your last alpha fell down on the job so badly that you had to leave to start again, I think you can understand why.”

She nods. “I guess. Do you have any submissives in the pack?”

The second the question leaves her lips, I feel her hold her breath.

“No. They…” My voice trails off, because this conversation is going to a place I’m not ready to take it yet.

“Galen?”

Sierra’s quiet question draws my gaze from where it had wandered to her locket and back to her eyes. “They had to leave people behind, Sierra,” I admit in a low voice. “And I don’t think they will ever forgive themselves for it.”

She doesn’t speak for a long time. “The members of your pack that left the drunk alpha?”

I nod.

---