We're supposed to be pretty and placid.
He must be fucking with me.
But before I can dwell on it for too long, Cass scoops me up again. He puts one arm behind my back and the other under my knees, then he carries me directly into the shower.
The hot water sprays over my skin, making me gasp at the sudden heat.
It feelsreallygood.
Cass eases onto the shower bench so I’m straddling his lap, taking extra care of this bad leg. As he moves, I feel the soft, weighty length of his limp cock pressed between us, trapped against my stomach.
A jolt of unwanted excitement shoots through me. My body thrums with a low, insistent need, a traitorous echo of the heat that's supposed to be over.
The betrayal of my own flesh makes me furious, and I quickly snip, "I hope carrying around my fat ass breaks your fucking knee.”
Our bond thrums with Cass’s amusement. Then he smacks one ass cheek with one playful, wet tap.
"I like your fat ass," he says, his voice a low, confident rumble.
I freeze, both offended and flattered.
It's the oddest compliment I've ever received.
Honestly, I should be enraged at him for not instantlyinsisting that I'm not fat, that I'm perfect and delicate. But there's something about the way he’s praising me exactly as I am that makes my treacherous heart flutter.
“You are working very hard to look like you hate me,” Cass smirks as he pours some scentless bodywash onto a washcloth. “But you forget I can feel you in our bond.”
"I'm not working at anything," I insist, my voice tight. "I'm pissed." The word feels flimsy, a lie that I'm telling myself as much as him.
"But you're also happy. I can feel it. It’s a little flutter right…here." He taps his own chest, right over his heart, and I feel a phantom echo of the emotion he's describing in my own body. “You are warm and happy, omega.”
A fresh wave of hot, irrational anger surges through me. I snarl, digging my nails into his shoulders, trying to hurt him, to make him feel anything other than the bliss moving through our bond.
“Don’t you dare tell me what I’m feeling!” I bite out.
Cass doesn’t flinch or pull away. Just steadies me with those dark blue eyes. Calm, solid, andinfuriating.
“I don’t want a mate,” I go on, the words tumbling sharper now, more desperate. “I never have. I didn’t ask to get snatched. I didn’t want a bond, or a pack, or—” My grip tightens. “You don’t get to decide what I feel.”
His expression shifts then, not amused anymore. Not smug. Very intent. “I’m not deciding anything, Tansy,” he says quietly. “I’m listening to your heart.”
I scoff, breath shaking. “I hate that you’re inside my head.”
“And you’re inside mine,” he counters as softly. “You can see exactly what I feel, too.”
The steam curls around us, thick and close. My handsare still fisted in his shoulders, my body tense like it’s braced for a fight that isn’t coming.
“I believe you don’t want an alpha,” he finally says. “I believe you.” He lifts the cloth, slow and deliberate, then he presses it to my breastbone. “And I also believe you are freaking out right now because you don’t know how to be taken care of. I can feel it in every inch of your body. It’s like you're waiting for me to hit you.”
Something in me shatters.
Before I can find my footing again, Cass’s gaze sharpens. “Who hurt you?” he asks quietly. Then, firmer. “Who taught you that alphas are vicious?”
His question catches me off guard, and I go still for a second, not sure what to say to that.
I swallow hard. “Who hasn’t?” I manage, bitter and flat all at once.
The change in Cass is immediate.
