That’s that. I square my shoulders. “Hurt me, then, Alpha Stark.”
The moment the words are out, he moves closer to me and my body lights up with awareness. His calloused, scarred hands close around my shoulders and push me down into the rickety chair next to us. I let it happen and look up at him, my gaze catching on the tattoos on his neck.
He’s a broker of pain.
Stark steps closer. His knee pushes mine open, then he kneels down on the floor, nestled in between my legs so that our faces are at the same height. My hands tighten on the armrests, but not for long—he reaches down and takes my wrists.
He pulls my hands to his chest. I let it happen, too lost in this electric silence to resist or ask or even hesitate. His heartbeat thrums under my palm.
“Hold on to me,” he says, voice rumbling. “Tight, if you need to.”
My throat clicks when I swallow. I stare at my own hands on his chest. Then, inexplicably, I move them to his shoulders.
A better handhold, I tell myself. It has nothing to do with the twitch of his muscles beneath my palms as he lifts his hands to my face.
I expected him to break me apart without warning. It’s what he does in training. Punching my nose straight would not have been out of character. But that doesn’t happen. He’s being almost… kind.
What the fuck is happening right now?
“Take a deep breath,” he says quietly, meeting my eyes. “One, two,three.”
And he breaks my nose back into place.
Tears immediately burst from my eyes, squeezed out as all of my muscles clench in resistance. My nails sink into his skin hard enough to draw blood, but Stark doesn’t even flinch. He lets me rip at him, returning a bit of the pain he just gave me.
Fuck, it hurts. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Worse, somehow, than when it was first broken, maybe because I have no adrenaline to offset the agony.
But as soon as it happens, it’s over. Anassa immediately heals the break, and the pain ebbs.
I sniff and look up. Stark is watching me, his expression as ironclad as Anassa’s wall at her worst. Stupidly, I wish I knewwhat was going through his head. If he felt like something just shifted between us, too.
Maybe he’s just trying to hide how much he enjoyed that.
Stark says nothing until he’s on the other side of the office and leagues of distance have been established between us. “You need to be better,” he says.
Still pissed, then. I scramble to find the energy to rein in my emotional whiplash. “So you keeptellingme,” I snap.
Stark turns to look at me. His brow is pinched tight. “Being Alpha means that you’re in charge now. Daegan is an instructor, butyouare still in charge. He’s your Gamma. He reports to you.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I think you don’t understand that good leaders are able to learn from their subordinates,” he replies coldly. It shuts me right up. “I know the power dynamics are uncomfortable because you need him to teach you, but you also need to get used to giving him instructions. Tell him what you need and be clear about it. Do not expect him to lead you or the rest of the pack. Not while you’re around.”
He allows a long stretch of silence during which his words latch around my ankles and drag me down like an anchor. But at least I’m no longer drifting.
“This is an important thing for you to learn as Alpha,” he continues. “If you can’t master this, your pack is going to fall apart. Can you do it?”
His question demands a serious answer. Back home at the laundry, I basically ran things despite the other workers being older and much more experienced. The place needed someone to take on the burden of keeping things organized, and I had no trouble stepping into that role when necessity required it. All I had to do was strike a balance between snapping out orders and being kind about it.
Surely, the same applies here.
“Yes,” I say finally. “I can do that.”
Stark straightens. “Good,” he says tersely. “You’re dismissed.”
He starts looking over the messages at his desk. I run my fingertips over my set nose and head for the office door. Something unexpectedly has me pausing and looking back, though. He’s leaning over his desk, expression stony, a dark lock of hair hanging over his forehead.
