Was what happened tonight anything to do with that? I don’t care how powerful the elders think they are—I’m the alpha here, and they can’t go against me!
“Oh, hi,” Sadie says, startling me. I turn around and see her standing in the doorway, wearing a light robe. Her hair is in damp tendrils around her face.
“Hi,” I reply. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ve made some tea.”
“Thank you,” she says, taking a cup. “What is it?” she asks, breathing in the steam rising from the warm liquid.
“It’s a blend my mother used to make when I was sick. Very soothing and refreshing.”
“Hmm,” she mumbles, taking a sip. “It’s nice—kind of like chamomile, but sweeter.”
“Sadie—” I start to ask more about what happened tonight, but I remember that I told her she didn’t have to tell me if she wasn’t ready, so I reel my questions back in.
“Yes?” she asks.
I sigh, shaking my head a little. “I don’t want you to sleep alone tonight,” I say finally.
This is what’s really in my heart. I can’t stand to see her so upset, and I just want to hold her and try to heal that hurt in her any way I can.
Sadie looks up at me, her eyes wide, and with her cheeks flushed pink from the warm shower and her hair slowly drying into a light, fluffy halo around her face, she looks more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her.
“I—” she starts, and I hold up my hand, shaking my head.
“It’s okay. I don’t want sex, I promise. I just want to lie beside you and keep you safe.”
Sadie looks down into her teacup, taking another sip. She frowns a little, and I know that she doesn’t want to be alone, either.
“I promise,” I say again. “All I want is to protect you.”
Sadie nods, looking like she might be about to cry. My heart goes out to her, and I have to get up and crouch at her feet, gently putting my hand on her arm.
“Do you trust me?” I ask.
She looks at me, her dark eyes huge and deep. She nods a little hesitantly.
“Then let me prove it to you,” I say, standing up and holding out my hand to her.
She takes it, leaving her empty cup on the table as she lets me lead her upstairs.
When we get to my room, I desperately want to touch her, but I hold back, making a spot for her under the covers. When she gets under the blanket, she snuggles close to me and takes my hand, resting her head on my shoulder.
“Rhys?” she asks, softly.
“Yes?”
“Tell me about your childhood. Did you grow up here?”
“In this house? Yes. It was given to me after my parents died.”
“That must have been hard.”
“It was. But I’d been trained from the moment I was born to be alpha. Everyone knew it was my path in life, and I didn’t have much time for grief.”
“That sounds just awful,” she says, squeezing my hand.
I sigh, not wanting to go into the details of the disease and the lengths the pack has gone to trying to cure it.
I don’t want to disturb her more. She’s finally relaxing with me, and the last thing I want to do is remind her of how she ended up here.
