Page 42 of Alpha Bond
“But people will talk, surely?”
“Let them.” He grimaces. “I don’t give a fuck. Besides, we’ll put on a good show for everyone. It won’t be long before we convince them that we’re mad about each other.”
“Uh…right.” I try not to think about how we’ll convince them of that. Because if it involves any more kisses like the one before, things might start to get uncomfortable between us. Not that they aren’t already.
“You’d better get washed up. I don’t know when they’ll call for us, so best we get some food into you as soon as possible.”
I hide a smile as I dip my chin in agreement. He’s been like this since I arrived. Always making sure I’m clean and fed and warm, reminding me every morning to take my meds. Which are almost finished now. And the damn fever still lingers.
I wish I knew what to do about it. The jagged gash where I removed the tracker is still an angry red lump that makes me flinch when I probe it with my fingers and stings beneath the improvised scarf I’ve still been wearing. If anything, it’s grown more painful, and part of me is tempted to ask Doctor Bea to take a look at it. What harm could it do? I’ve told Jagger about the wolves who took me. Maybe now that we’re mated, it doesn’t need to be a secret anymore.
But somehow, I’m overcome with shame whenever I think about all of it. Shame at what they did to me. Shame at how my body responded. And fear at what might happen to my family if I share enough details to expose them.
I rub my eyes as these thoughts war within me.
“You sure you’re okay?” Jagger asks again.
I jerk my head up. “Absolutely. Just waking up.” I manage a wry smile. “I’m not used to so much luxury.” It’s the truth. My home in Wildview was basic. But comfortable enough for me to miss every moment there. My family.
I’m going to find them.
“It will get even better. The family quarters are downright homely.” He turns away and heads into the living room. “I’ll dress while you shower. Be out in ten so we can get this day on the go.”
I clamber out of bed once he’s gone, reaching for the duffel bag he gave me to keep my things in. Digging through it, I pull out a T-shirt and jeans, with every intention of wearing them today. And then something stops me.
More accurately, a little black dress stops me.
If there was any time that I should be wearing this, it would be today. Clutching it to my chest, I hurry to the bathroom, step into the shower and emerge minutes later freshly scrubbed. I tug the clingy wool knit over my head and smooth it over my hips. There isn’t a full-length mirror in the apartment, so I make do with the one over the washbasin. It doesn’t show much more than my face and my chest, but I can feel that the garment is sleek and form-fitting. And most importantly, the high, collared neckline covers my throat.
That’ll do…
Running my fingers through my hair to shake out the tangles, I do what I can to tame the unruly dark waves. I’ve always been blessed with thick lashes and dark, arched brows, so makeup was never a thing for me. Not that we thought of such things back where I came from. My scent alone was always enough to draw plenty of male attention.“And it helps that you’re pretty,”Ma had always said.
Not that it matters right now. Aside from that kiss, Jagger hasn’t shown me even the slightest hint of interest. I might as well be a dressmaker’s dummy. Except from that moment in the shower, and that’s probably just wishful thinking on my part. He’s a male in his prime, of course he has needs he must take care of.
With one last look in the mirror, I head to the door. Jagger is standing waiting when I emerge. Dressed in his usual cargo pants, he’s wearing a snug black shirt that molds to the lines of his chest. The sleeves strain around his biceps, where more of that dark ink decorates his tanned skin. I try not to gulp.
“Right, let’s—” He stops mid-sentence and stares at me. “What are you wearing?” His brows pull together.
Shit. This was a mistake.
“I- Um… Well… I thought since… I just thought that since we’d be going through a ceremony…” I stumble over the words. “I’m sorry. I’ll change,” I add quickly.
“No!” he practically barks the word, and I flinch. “No,” he repeats more softly. “It’s fine. Probably a good idea.”
Doesn’t look like he thinks it’s a good idea. He looks seriously pissed, and I struggle to keep my shoulders squared as I walk toward him. I’ve brought along the black pumps Raura gave me to go with the dress, and I pause beside him to slip them on. When I straighten, he’s staring down at my feet.
“I figured sneakers would look silly,” I mumble, feeling like the world’s biggest fool. I have no idea how to get a read on this man.
“Sure.” His tone is brusque. Opening the door, he reaches for my hand. “We should probably keep up the show. Is that okay with you?”
“No problem. I managed okay yesterday, didn’t I?” Actually, I more than managed. His hand was like a lifeline in stormy waters as we navigated the reactions to our abrupt announcement. I think I’m probably going to need the same support today.
He doesn’t reply; just closes his fingers around mine. Warm and strong, they engulf my hand, and it seems to me that it’s a feeling I could get used to if I don’t take care. When I look up into his face, his expression is inscrutable.
“Food.” He jerks his head in the direction of the canteen. He doesn’t say more as we make our way there, though his fingers tighten occasionally as we pass others on the way. There’s no mistaking the naked curiosity in their eyes. Word has spread, no doubt about it. But at least it will come as less of a surprise when the ceremony takes place.
Small mercies.