It was oddly intimate. One after another, he fed me until the plate on the end table was clear.
“Good girl.”
Slick soaked my panties, and I squirmed. Now that the pulse in my head eased, flashes of the previous night started piecing themselves together.
Unfortunately, it had not all been a cruel nightmare. It was real.
All I wanted was more time.
Except, I wasn’t going to get it.
My dad had seen to that.
It was marry the ancient Italian mafioso, who was older than my father, or marry Kaelen. A man whom I cared for more than I’d ever admit.
I wasn’t ready.
I needed more time.
Things with Kaelen were good. In the future, I could see mating with him, marrying him, spending a life with him, but I wanted to get to know him better, take things slow… allow myself to trust him—as an alpha.
The alternative was unacceptable.
If I didn’t marry Kaelen, I most certainly would end up with an alpha who would treat me horribly.
At least with Kaelen, I knew what I was getting into.
At least, I think I did.
My omega scolded me for dismissing our alpha. He was perfect for us. She knew it, even if I refused to accept it.
It wasn’t a refusal, not really.
It was fear.
I was scared.
Scared of being trapped. Scared of being hurt.
Not physically, but emotionally. I saw the torment my dad waged on my mom to control her, and it was worse than any slap or burn.
I rolled over, my legs dangling off the bed as I put my face in my hands. My hands trembled as a bead of sweat dripped down my brow. The mattress shifted, and I figured Kaelen didn’t want to deal with me and had gone to take a shower.
A shadow shifted in front of me, blocking the light. Two callused hands covered my own, gently pulling them away. I sucked in a shaky breath, and a knuckle rested under my chin, tipping my head back.
The muscle at the base of my head twinged with the strain of looking up at him. Kaelen towered over me. Tight briefs clung to his muscled thighs, colorful ink flexing on his taut torso as he gazed at me with an unreadable expression.
I tugged at the hem of the t-shirt he must have put me in last night before I passed out. Goosebumps broke out on my legs and arms. His eyes flicked to my mouth, dropping lower before finding my stare once more.
“I’m still mad at you,” I murmured, my words from last night coming back in pieces. “You’re an over-protective asshole.”
Slowly, he dropped to his knees beside the bed, his rough palms caressing the smooth skin of my thighs. My lips parted as I followed the movement, in awe of the most powerful man in Boston kneeling before me.
“And I will suffer your ire if it means you are safe. Someday, Willow, you will understand.” His warm breath fanned over my cheek, his next words a reverent whisper. “I kneel for no one. Except you.”
Time stopped and I froze. He took my left hand in his, dwarfing it as he rubbed his thumb over my knuckles.
Inhis other hand, he clutched a small box wrapped in dark, lush velvet.
