Chapter 11 #2
Broxen caught her chin, tilting her face toward his. “You are not homeless, Gabriela. You have a home. Here, with me.”
“A…mate?”
Without realizing what he was doing, he dropped his eyes to her mouth and grazed her bottom lip with his claw.
He was so tempted to close the distance between them, to capture her mouth with his, to kiss her, to know her taste.
He brushed her hair away from her neck with his other hand and stroked the backs of his fingers over the bared flesh there—where she would one day bear his mark. “I will be your mate. Your protector.”
Gabriela’s breath quickened, and her dark eyes smoldered with passionate embers. She tentatively reached up and pressed her palm against his chest. She swallowed thickly. “Dinner…is almost done.”
The corner of Broxen’s mouth quirked. His strong female was skittish, but he could feel the desire radiating from her. He could smell it.
Soon.
He caressed her chin before dropping his hands, settling one upon her lower back.
That word, soon, was so short and simple, but it felt impossibly larger, felt like an eternity.
He ached with want for this female; his cock was hard and throbbing against his thigh, held in check only by the denim of his jeans, and his tail was coiled around his leg so tightly that his foot was likely to go numb before long.
But he forced himself to step away from the bedroom door, guiding Gabriela along with him. Once she was clear, he reached forward and opened the door, leaving it wide.
“I’m almost done, too,” he said. It was a struggle not to clench his teeth against his overwhelming needs, to maintain his composure despite the torture of holding himself back.
“Okay,” she said a little breathlessly as she drew away from him. She bumped into the doorframe, which startled her, but then she laughed. “I…guess I should watch where I’m walking, huh?”
Broxen chuckled, and though he didn’t allow his gaze to drop, he couldn’t help but notice her shapely ass as she turned and slipped out of the room. His internal struggle only intensified. Following her would’ve been so damned easy.
But his work wasn’t done—and he was hungry. He didn’t plan on being late for the meal she’d been cooking.
He shifted all his focus to the bed, quickly installing the remaining slats before putting the box spring and mattress in place.
Getting the fitted sheet on properly was a struggle; he had to take it off and redo it because he’d apparently misjudged which sides were shorter than the others.
But once it was in place, it was easy to drape the top sheet and the matching pink comforter over the bed.
He stuffed the pillows into the pillowcases and placed them against the headboard.
Broxen took a step back to survey his work. Gabriela had already demonstrated that she could make a bed far more neatly than he could, but what was that human saying?
It’s the thought that counts?
“Not done,” he muttered, grabbing the end table that had been sitting in here, unused, for months.
He placed it beside the bed. The table’s dark wood and styling wasn’t quite a match for the bed, but that didn’t matter.
If he’d made the right choice, Ana would only care about what was on the table, not the table itself.
Opening the box he’d brought back from the thrift store, he removed the item that had very likely been the best find of the day—a lamp with a shimmery, pearlescent white lamp shade and a glittery pink unicorn as its base.
Ana had mentioned her love of unicorns several times in the year that he’d known her—including during their conversation this morning. When he’d seen this lamp at the thrift store, he’d known that he had to get it for her.
He placed it on the little table next to the bed and bent down to plug it in.
“Mason?”
He looked back to see Ana lean into the open doorway.
“Mom said—” She gasped, her eyes rounding as she looked at the bed and the lamp. “Is that for me?”
Following her gaze with his own, Broxen straightened. “All yours.”
Silence reigned for a few heartbeats. Then a cry escaped Ana, and her eyes, filling with tears, met Broxen’s. She made a high-pitched whine; as alarming as her tears were, that sound set Broxen on alert.
He turned toward her. “Ana?”
Her features crumpled, and she darted into the room, rounding the bed to slam her little body against him. She hugged him around his waist and cried.
All Broxen could do was stand there in stunned silence, staring down at the little kit without a clue as to what was happening. When he finally broke his stupor, he took hold of her wrists and gently pried her arms apart so he could drop down to a knee, bringing himself closer to her eye level.
“Ana, what’s wrong? Did I…did I do this wrong?”
She looked at him, lashes spiked, cheeks wet with tears, and her shoulders and chest heaving with ragged, hiccupping breaths. “N-no, you d-didn’t.”
Gabriela appeared in the doorway, a hand braced on the frame. Her brows were creased in worry. “Ana?”
Ana looked at her mom then back to Broxen. He was growing quite concerned; her breathing wasn’t normal, and she looked like she’d spilled enough tears to dehydrate herself.
The kit tugged her hands free and wrapped her arms around his neck in another embrace. She sniffled. “Thank y-you.”
Gratitude? Ana’s hysterical crying had been in…gratitude?
He didn’t understand these humans at all.
Or…perhaps he did.
She lost everything. And I…I’ve given her something back.
Broxen wrapped his arms around Ana, returning the hug. Her grip on him only strengthened.
“I wish you were my dad,” she whispered.
His brow knitted, and something tightened in his chest. He shifted a hand up to cup the back of her head.
As much as her tears had alarmed him, there was a warm feeling inside him, a good feeling.
He couldn’t change what had happened in his females’ lives.
He couldn’t change their pasts any more than he could his own, couldn’t protect them from the hurts they’d already suffered.
But he could do everything possible to protect them now—and forever after.
Broxen glanced at Gabriela. She remained in the doorway, her hands covering her mouth, tears brimming in her eyes.
“You like it?” Broxen asked, combing his claws gently through Ana’s hair, hoping to soothe her.
“I love it,” Ana said.
“Good. Then no more tears.”
She laughed. “Okay.”
“Now what was it you came to tell me?”
Ana finally loosened her arms and drew back. There was a smile on her face. “Mom said dinner was ready.”
“Perfect timing,” he replied, smiling back at her. He flicked his gaze to Gabriela again, and his smile widened further. “Been hard not to go into the kitchen and steal a taste. I’m starving.”
Gabriela laughed softly and wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “Wash your hands. Both of you. I’ll get the table set.”
She left them, and Ana took hold of his hand, leading him out of the room and into the bathroom.
Ana stood patiently as he removed the adhesive bandages from her palm, revealing only healthy skin beneath.
They shared a grin. When Ana was done washing her hands, Broxen sent her off to see if Gabriela needed help before stepping to the sink himself.
As he scrubbed his hands clean, he couldn’t help but wonder at what he was feeling.
Contentment? Completion? Wasn’t it too soon to feel that way? Gabriela and Ana had been here for a day, and nothing was certain.
I’m certain. They are mine. My family.
Yet there was a shadow hanging over those good feelings, one he’d thought about but hadn’t yet decided how to handle. This secret of his—the secret that had kept him alive to this point, the secret that had allowed him a chance at making a new life, a chance at having Gabriela.