25. Dane
Chapter 25
Dane
I can’t let her walk away again. I lengthen my stride, catching up to her amid the tree boundary between our two properties.
“Rosie.” I grab her elbow, turning her to face me. “Hold up!”
Those pretty eyes of hers are wide and wild.
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to scare you. It’s just I don’t want you to go,” I say. “You’re pack now… if you want to be. At least let one of us drive you back to the hospital this morning. I can’t stand the thought of you being there alone.”
Rosie takes a shuddering breath, breaking my gaze as she chews her lip. I want to stop the abuse, soothe it with my tongue. Instead, I wait for her judgment, a little sick to my stomach at the idea that my mate may not give me the time of day.
She sighs and steps back, looking anywhere but at me. “I just don’t see how we fit. I don’t see myself in your pack’s world. We’re an unlikely pack at best?—"
“We’re not unlikely, Rosie,” I say adamantly, shaking my head in frustration. Maybe at first glance we don’t match up to what people expect, but there’s no doubt that if she gives us a chance, we will work. “You’re my match, made to fit with us. We’re your pack. And I want a chance to show you what that could look like.”
Rosie throws her hand up to cover her eyes. “You know what? Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” I ask, confused by the sudden turn in the conversation.
“Trying to influence me with your smolder.” She waves in my general direction. Her words are aggrieved as if my very existence vexes her. “It’s distracting.”
“I have a smolder?” I ask.
“Sir, you have the platinum card of alpha smolders. Don’t pretend you don’t know it either,” she sasses, dropping the hand from her face to give me a scathing look.
My lips quirk up anyway. “Call me that again. I like how ‘sir’ sounds from your mouth.”
Rosie rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay, see, it’s a smolder. Weapons grade. So, back it up.” She shoos me away with her hand. “Like, a few feet of clearance.”
Before I can decide whether I should obey, Rosie changes tactics, getting into my face with a mouth full of fire. “You know what? No! Why are we having this conversation? Are you gonna spend hours playing D&D with me on Saturday nights? Take a weekend to cosplay with me instead of going to the country club? Do you think I’m going to your football games and sitting in the stands with my vapid cousin and her friends? Or to hang out with your old crew? That’s not happening. We’re not from the same world. We don’t share interests or sides of town. We’re not pack.”
Her rebuke sparks a fire inside me. I don’t know why it bothers me so much that she’s already decided I’m just some shallow tool, but it irks me that she’s declared our fate before giving me a chance. “I play D&D.”
“That’s the answer you’re going with?” Rosie raises an imperious brow, calling my bluff.
Do I play often? No. Do I know my way around the game? Yeah, I do. Quinn loves that shit, and I love Quinn.
“What, you don’t think I could be interested in gaming?” I ask. “Or that a football guy can be attracted to women who aren’t the cheerleader type? I think that’s called prejudice, Rosie.”
“That’s so—” Her eyes narrow, and her mouth drops. A moment later, she seems to deflate, releasing a deep sigh. “You’re right. I’m not being fair, but you’ll have to give me a minute. I’m still having a hard time picturing you geeking out or deciding to pick me to be part of your pack.”
I shrug. “D&D is similar to football. It’s a game of strategy and a little luck mixed with magic. I’m really not who you think I am. Give us a chance to get to know you.” Rosie goes to argue, but I step closer, twirling a loose curl. “Please, Rosie, I’m begging you. Stay with us while your grandma recovers and the house gets fixed. Let us see how good it can be if we let it.”
Her scent is a strange mixture of calming tea and overly sweet roses, so I can’t decipher her feelings. She chews that lip again before eventually slaying me with those eyes. “You want to do real, Dane? You want to see what being with me would be like? I don’t do Waverly, the lake, anywhere past the marina on Pine. I live my life taking care of my grandma and in my two blocks downtown. That’s how I like it. I have boundaries, and none of what you love is in them.”
“Rosie—” I plead, desperate for her to try.
“And pity,” she snaps. “That’s my hard line. I see it one time in your eyes or hear it in your voice and we’re done. Understand?”
I shake my head, ready to beg. “When I look at you, pity is the last thing on my mind.”
“This isn’t a joke or a reason to flirt. I’m serious,” she says, her voice turning sharp.
“I didn’t say it as one, but I gotta admit you’re making me nervous.”
I tug on her chin and study her face. She’s beautiful and raw. Her soul has this fire that can’t be contained. She demands better for herself, and I want to be the one to make sure she gets it. But damn, if she isn’t going to make me sweat working for it. I kinda hate that I like it.
“Dane Daniels nervous?” Her lips quirk. “Is that even possible?”
I lean in and murmur in her ear, “You make me very nervous, Rosie Braxton.”
“It’s my smolder, isn’t it?” she says, voice full of sarcasm.
This woman is purely unexpected. “Yeah, sweetheart, you’re sexy as hell. It’s definitely your smolder.”
She huffs something that’s almost a laugh, but I’m being dead serious.
I pull back and take her in. It does something to me to see her in Nash’s clothes, to see the way he’s already claimed her. She’s barefoot on the lawn, swimming in Nash’s old jersey, her hair wild around her. She’s fierce and vulnerable all at the same time. We’re scent matches, but I want to earn her trust, prove that fate had a reason to draw us together.
“I’ve never met anyone like you. We’ve hardly talked, yet I’ve never had someone challenge me in the ways you do. Can you just listen for a minute?”
The jerky nod she gives me isn’t much of an invitation, but I take it.
I let her in, the teasing falling from my tone. “I think you’re brave and interesting.”
She opens her mouth, the contradiction on her face, but I keep talking. “I see the things you see in the world. I won’t deny that people may be surprised by the match, but it’s not their business. Who we are to each other, what works for us, that’s gonna take time. That’s any pack. I’m hoping we can find out what works for all of us.”
“Dane…” Rosie says softly, and it’s a question.
“I’m not done, sweetheart, so let me get this out.”
She makes this kind of disbelieving sound, her eyes wide.
“I don’t pity you, Rosie. But I’ll admit I want to protect and keep you safe. And that means in here too.” I tap my heart. “Give this pack a chance to be your D-line and your home.”
“That was quite a halftime speech, Coach. Are you done?” she asks, her eyes bright and a flirtatious smile on her lips.
I nod solemnly, my cheeks heating in embarrassment at the way she’s looking at me right now. I can’t help it. I’m the kinda guy who leaves it all on the field. If she walks away from us, it won’t be because I didn’t go all in.
Her pink lips quirk. “See, this is when you kiss me?—”
She’s in my arms before she finishes the thought. I push her back against an old oak, my hands going into her hair until her neck is tilted, showing off her unmarked skin.
Beneath Nash’s scent, roses unfurl until the air is a garden in full bloom. The lush floral sends a burst of arousal straight to my dick. I scent mark her first, wanting to assert my claim, layering my signature overtop Nash’s so the world knows she belongs to us. Trailing my nose down her neck, my teeth ache. “I’m going to mark this one day, show the world how we belong together.”
She opens for me on a gasp, and despite all her initial sass, she’s got the sweetest mouth. Rosie is soft and luminous, like the delicate flower she was named for. Like her namesake, she’s had to adapt to the world by growing thorns. Sipping from her lips pricks at the deepest part of me, making my blood rush to the surface and my head buzz with the dizziness of feeling alive.
I swipe my tongue against hers, deepening the kiss. My hand finds her jaw, holding her to me, and when she melts at my touch, my heart goes soft. Her scent thickens in the air, the sweetness laced with arousal. It’s heady, a siren song calling me to my mate.
From somewhere near our front porch, I hear Quinn. “Did he just get Rosie to court us with a football metaphor?”
“It worked. Don’t complain,” Nash’s deep rumble adds.
Rosie pulls away, her cheeks pink. “So, this is pack life?”
“Basically,” I admit, pulling her back into my chest. She nuzzles against me, scent marking me whether she means to or not. “Let’s get some of your clothes. Then, someone will drive you to the hospital.”
I know she’s worried, but I have a feeling this is gonna work out.