Chapter 5 #2
“I told you, I don’t need you cooking for me,” Murphy repeated from behind her, the exasperation in his voice clear.
She begged to differ, especially if these were his options for a meal.
Why does it matter? You claim you don’t want him, and yet here you are, trying to take care of him.
Nessa ignored him and the nagging voice inside her head, instead grabbing a box of spaghetti and a jar of red pasta sauce. After checking the expiration date, reassured it wasn’t covered in some nasty mold, she placed both items on the island.
“Are you just going to ignore me?” There was a blur of movement from the corner of her eye, and then Murphy’s hand came into view.
Instinctively, she flinched, startled by the sudden movement. He dropped his hand just as quickly, his voice drowned out by her pulse now beating a frantic drum in her ears. She moved away from him, dragging in a lungful of air as her heart raced.
So much for being relaxed.
“I’m sorry,” Murphy began, the irritation in his eyes replaced with confusion. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Y-You didn’t,” Nessa began, only to grimace at the nervous pitch in her tone. Great, now he definitely knew she was lying. She looked away from him, staring down at the countertop as she focused on her breathing. After a few seconds, she added, “I just forgot how quickly you can move. That’s all.”
Yeah, and it has nothing to do with the fact that you thought he was going to hit you, she thought sarcastically, suddenly feeling the strongest urge to cry.
God, was she ever going to be rid of her demons? When she’d moved to Montana, she’d felt so optimistic about her future. She’d begun to hope, to dream that one day, she’d regain some semblance of herself.
And then after the attack …
Maybe she’d never find herself again. Maybe she was doomed to remain lost forever.
“Spaghetti sounds great, Nessa.”
Nessa’s head shot up, her gaze colliding with the bear in front of her. Murphy’s eyes, still a bright golden, bore into her, as if he could see everything that she tried so hard to keep hidden. It made her feel vulnerable, like pieces of herself were being laid bare.
If he saw her, truly saw her, would he feel disgusted by her weaknesses? Would he find her lacking, like she so often did? Would he think her pathetic for putting herself in such a terrible situation all those years ago?
Why was she even concerned about what he thought?
Wait, what had he said about spaghetti? Her brow furrowed in confusion. Shit, she must have been more shaken up than she’d realized.
Murphy nodded toward the kitchen island, and she followed the motion, staring blankly at the items on the counter. What had she been doing? “Make me dinner, Nes?” he asked softly, the words penetrating the anxiety in her mind.
Nes. The nickname was so unexpected, so familiar as it stirred up tender emotions of her youth, that she almost broke down.
Blinking quickly, she focused on the box of spaghetti and the jar of sauce. Right. Murphy was hungry and exhausted. She’d wanted to make him something to eat.
She cleared her throat, pointing toward the stools. “Have a seat and I’ll whip something up.”
Murphy kept his angrily clenched fists hidden under the countertop as he sat on the stool, tracking her every movement across his kitchen with a look of feigned indifference on his face.
Nessa, the female he couldn’t let go of, had flinched away from his touch, and for the briefest moment, her spike of fear had permeated the air.
She’d looked like she was on the verge of a panic attack when she’d stumbled away from him, her gaze unfocused, and he had heard her heart thumping wildly in her chest.
That look, and the scent of her fear, were gone now, but that didn’t change the rage burning in his gut, or the fact that his bear was roaring in his mind, demanding he protect her.
For once, he agreed with the beast about his little mate.
He needed to protect Nessa. But from what?
He suspected it wasn’t just recent events that had her riled up.
His nails turned into sharp claws as his rage swelled, and they pierced the skin of his palms until warm blood coated the tips.
She’d been afraid he was going to hit her. She’d reacted so strongly that it was impossible to draw any other conclusion. He wished he could blame the cause for her distress on Jason. But he couldn’t, mostly because this wasn’t the first time he’d seen her react like this.
The day Murphy had met her, he’d raised his voice while they’d argued. She’d flinched then, too. He hadn’t realized then why she’d reacted so poorly, but he was starting to understand her behavior now.
Pieces of the puzzle surrounding his intriguing mate were beginning to fall into place. Her identity was bogus. She was afraid of men’s angry voices and quick movements. Right now, all he had was speculation, but his instincts were shouting at him that he was right.
Nessa was on the run from an abusive past.
A growl formed in his throat, so deep and menacing that he couldn’t hold it back. Nessa stilled, eyes flying up to meet his as she filled a large pot with water.
Murphy cleared his throat, and the growl turned into more of a dull, awkward rumble. “Sorry. Bad habit.”
“Of growling at people who use your sink?”
Despite the darkness of his thoughts, Murphy’s lips twitched and a small smile formed. “I’m protective of what’s mine, Nessa.” The words were true, but Murphy didn’t mean the water.
Nessa was his, and even though they didn’t intend to mate one another, she was under his protection. He needed to keep her close and safeguard her. If not just for her sake, then for his, too. If he had mating sickness, only Nessa’s presence in his life would quell the side effects.
Once he discovered and annihilated the threat to her, and his mating sickness wore off, then they could go their separate ways.
Though, as he watched her move around his home, her sweet scent heavy in the air and his bear sighing in contentment at her nearness, it was a struggle to remember exactly why mating her was a bad idea.