Page 103 of Alpha Ruined

The shock, stress, and mating bite have made her want to curl up in a ball and rest.

“Sorry isn’t enough,” she mumbles. “Not for what you’ve done.”

“You were catatonic,” he insists. “I…you weren’t…”

It’s the first time she’s heard him be at a loss for words. She senses his insecurities through the bond, and her first instinct is to soothe him.

But she can’t, not after everything that’s happened.

He may be her mate, but he’s hurt her and it’s not something that can be fixed with a simple apology.

“I’m terrified of you,” she adds, unable to look at his face anymore. “I wasterrifiedsince that day in the prison. And you’ve done nothing but scare mesince.”

He remains silent. She contemplates running from him, but she doesn’t want to pass by the murder scenedownstairs.

Also, she doesn’t want to leave him.

It makes her sick to her stomach.

She tells herself it’s due to the mating bond.

“I have nothing more to say to you,” she chokes out. “Just tell me when it’s cleaned up.”

Curling up into a ball, she climbs under the covers and surrenders to the exhaustion.

It’s all too much for her to bear.

When she opens her eyes,Cole is at the desk, murmuring.

At first, she thinks he’s speaking to her, but then she sees the kitten is in his arms.

He’s bottle feeding it.

She sits up with wide eyes as he handles the creature with a tenderness she didn’t know he possessed.

A primal part of her is delighted.

“Everything’s cleaned up,” he tells her softly, not taking his eyes off the delicate orange and white face. No longer in all black, he wears a fitted light grey sweatshirt and dark jeans. His hair is styled, and the blood has been cleaned from his face.

She watches, enraptured, as Cole coos words of encouragement to the kitten as it greedily gulps from the bottle. He pets its head gently, using his other hand to softly rub at the furry throat, ensuring it swallows properly.

Gone is the terrifying Cole from before.

All that is in front of her is a kind man with a tender heart.

Through their bond, she can sense his satisfaction at taking care of the kitten.

It gives her emotional whiplash.

“How do you know how to do all this?” she whispers, bewildered.

“My mother is a cat lady and a gardener,” he smiles softly, his eyes meeting hers. “I grew up fostering kittens.”

She balks.

This monster of a man grew up surrounded by kittens?

“That’s how you knew about the succulent,” she says slowly. “And what the white roses symbolized.”