Page 19 of Alpha’s Wife

“I’m not a thing,” I snap.

“No,” he agrees, “but you are mine to look after now, and if that includes supplying decent coffee, then I’m happy to oblige.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, simply turns and pulls a fresh loaf from a bag before arranging a range of honey and preserves on the table. He slides a plate over to me. “Eat. Can’t have you fainting if you’re going back to the clinic today.”

“The famous Ronan charm I’m so used to,” I say, taking the plate.

“I tend to save my charm for those who don’t bite.” He delivers the words perfectly straight, but there’s a glint of humor beneath the surface, and I have to look down and concentrate on the bread to stop myself from smiling.

That’s the whole problem, right there. I should have a cutting remark for every single thing this man says. Instead, I find myself having to swallow a smile, enjoying his coffee, and sleeping well under his roof. I tear a piece of bread off and force myself to eat it just to give me something to do; a distraction from myself.

He’s watching me, and I feel every second of it. Eventually, he puts his own cup down and the tinge of humor from before fades into something more business-like. “Here’s how this is going to work,” he says. “You’ll sleep here, eat here, and during the day you can still go out—with a guard, of course—to the clinic, the bakery, or whatever it is you do. But you don’t even try a stunt like last night, and you don’t go out after dark. This cabin has security that goes far beyond wards.”

“And if I do—go out, I mean,” I say, carefully, “after dark?”

“You won’t try me on this,” he says with no heat to his words at all. “You know you could be locked in a cell right now, you know this isn’t a punishment—not how you’re being kept, at least. You know you wouldn’t have made it through the tree line last night, even with your cloaking. And I’m sure you’d rather spend the day helping at the clinic or having coffee with some of the very nice people here than being locked in a room, alone. Take the win, witch.”

He’s right, and I hate how right he is, and I hate even more that he seems to read my mind. “You’re making it very hard for me to be angry with you, you know that?”

“I’m aware,” he says, the glint returning to his eye. “I’m counting on it, actually.”

And there’s the truth that’s hanging between us. He’s not even trying to hide it. I know exactly what he wants, and I should be fighting it harder. I am fighting it, but at the same time, I feel myself being drawn to him like a magnet, and I can’t seem to stop myself.

“You’re staring,” I say.

“I am,” he replies, not even slightly sorry.

“It’s rude,” I tell him, color creeping up my cheeks.

“So is breaking my heart by trying to leave just when I thought we were getting along well,” he replies, his lips curling in one of those half-smiles. “We all have our flaws.”

“You’re very sure of yourself to think the kidnapped won’t want to escape,” I say quietly.

“True,” he says, “but I know you don’t want Bram getting in trouble over you. You’ve made friends here, and you see the good. You could have fought me last night—you would have lost, obviously—but you didn’t, because you know you’re better off in here than out there.”

I open my mouth but find I have nothing to say to that, so I drink my coffee and say nothing instead, and he at least has the grace not to gloat, though I can see the victory shining in his eyes.

A knock at the door saves me from having to find a better method of deflection.

He pushes off the counter and goes to answer it, and I hear a woman’s voice on the step. She’s talking quickly, her tone high and frightened, something about her boy and a fever that came up overnight. I drift toward the hall without meaning to, my coffee still in hand, and I watch as he talks to her.

He’s different with her. Not soft, exactly, because I’m not sure Ronan knows how to be soft, but steady and so certain that I watch as she visibly begins to calm. She explains that she can’t find Emma, and he tells her that Emma was expected at the docks this morning for a new delivery of medical supplies. He’ll have her sent to the boys’ home immediately, and someone else will handle the delivery. He assures her that her boy will be tearing around the settlement again in no time. She takes his hand, and he lets her hold on; he doesn’t make her feel foolish for being so afraid. I almost offer to help, having tended enough fevers in my coven, but I hesitate. I’m not one of them; the woman doesn’t know me, and I linger back in the shadows until she leaves.

I watch as he pulls out his phone and calls someone, presumably Emma, talking in a hush about the boy and what needs to be done. He hangs up, firing off another text before he turns and catches me watching.

“What?” he says.

“Nothing,” I reply quickly, turning back into the kitchen.

But it isn’t nothing, and he knows it. In the middle of trying to hate him, a scared mother turned up on his doorstep, and he calmed her, and sent her back to his bedside with help on the way. He’s a true alpha, out here in the middle of nowhere, and it feels less and less like rogue territory.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he says, finally.

“You do, do you?” I reply.

“Sure,” he says, eyeing me carefully. “You’re seeing me as a person, a leader, and you’d prefer I stay the villain. It would be easier, wouldn’t it?”

“Easier for you, I guess,” I say, knowing I should shut this conversation down, but I can’t help myself.