Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
I have to admit, after over four years completely on my own, cut off from the support of my parents, it feels almost too good to be taken care of by someone. It’s especially dangerous when that someone is the guy who just hate-fucked me on the mountain. And in the school bathroom.
Ugh! I still can’t believe I did that. It’s so shameful. So wrong.
After a few minutes, Asher enters with a plate piled high with grilled cheese sandwiches. “There’s no food in your place,” he grumbles. He sets the plate down on the side of the bathtub.
I reach for one of the buttery toasted cheese sandwiches that smell like pure heaven, my stomach gurgling loudly.
Asher leans a hip against the sink, his arms folded across his massive chest. “You know you’re a wolf, right?”
I ignore him, barely chewing the food as I inhale it.
“Why is there no meat in your refrigerator? Are you trying to be a vegetarian or something?”
I don’t answer. I want to tell him to leave, but I don’t have the energy to assert myself yet. I finish the first sandwich, and my hands stop shaking. By the second one, I feel more like myself.
I try to get up, but Asher shakes his head. For some insane reason, my body obeys his dominance, and I freeze.
“Finish the other two, then we’ll talk about you moving.”
I oblige him, reaching for a third beautiful grilled cheese.
“Lotta.” There’s a weighted tone to his voice that brings my gaze to his for the first time since I regained consciousness. But he doesn’t say anything about us. About this thing we’re doing that absolutely needs to stop. About how we should handle it or what we should do. He’s still stuck on the food. “Why aren’t you eating?”
I give an impatient wave of my hand that knocks the plate off the side of the tub.
Asher’s reflexes are lightning fast. He catches the plate and rights it before the remaining sandwich flies off the edge.
“Whoa. Impressive.”
“What’s the deal, Lotta? Talk, or you’re not getting out of that tub.”
I roll my eyes. “You can’t hold me prisoner in my bathtub, Asher. You know one yell and my parents would be here and–” I stop my threat because we both know where things would go if I did that. Asher would be booted out of the pack just like his father. My mom would make it happen before morning. And of course, that line of thinking brings back our twisted history and the reason he hates me now.
He takes a bite of the last sandwich. “And?” he asks with his mouth full, his cocky demeanor in full force. “You gonna finish that sentence?”
My face flushes and then grows suddenly tight, like I’m going to cry again. But this time it isn’t about feeling helpless to my wolf urges. It’s from the power and potency of Asher’s wrath. I feel it hit me square in the chest and take my breath away. A blast of hatred that makes me want to curl up in a ball.
“No.” I throw a note of stubbornness in my voice, blinking back the tears.
“Tell me about the food. I don’t get it.”
I finish my third sandwich, and Asher thrusts his half-eaten one in my face, offering me what’s left.
I shake my head, but my fingers reach for the food anyway, my hunger still unquenched. “I haven’t shifted in almost five years,” I admit as I chew the food.
Asher cocks his head. “What?”
I shrug. “I lived in the heart of Chicago. There was no way I could hide as a wolf there.”
“So you just…didn’t? You suppressed your wolf?”
I swallow and nod. “Yep. That’s how I managed living among humans.”
Asher’s eyes narrow. “Is that why you didn’t come back for summers or breaks?”
“Yes. It would’ve been too hard to let her out and then suppress her again. I went through withdrawal symptoms when I first got there. I was sick for nine months. I lost my appetite and got really thin.”
I finish the last bite of the sandwich. Asher sets the plate down on the sink and reaches for me. Before I know it’s happening, he’s lifted me by my armpits out of the bath and set me onto the bathmat.
“You’re still really thin, Lotta.” He wraps a towel around my back but holds it open to examine my naked body.
It should anger me, this forced vulnerability. I should feel the defensiveness my mom’s constant criticism or input about me, my life, and my body does, but instead, his perusal warms me. I sense only a mate’s caring and concern from him. No judgment.
He uses the towel to tug me closer to him, my wet skin almost flush to his body. Close enough that some of my water droplets transfer to his clothes. I start to tremble again but not from weakness. “You shifted for me.” His gravelly voice sounds possessive. His eyes glow green. The electricity between our bodies is undeniable. Like the strings of an instrument, tuned to the same note. Reverberating at the same frequency and speed.