Chapter 6
“How did you find my house?” Murphy asked, watching as Nessa slid the stiff noodles slowly into the boiling pot of water.
“I called Hunny and asked for directions. She met me at the gate, and I followed her here. Your home is lovely, by the way.”
“Thank you. I’m partial to it,” Murphy added, unsure of where to steer their conversation. He wanted to ask about her past, about who she was running from, but obviously he didn’t want to spook her.
For all he knew, he was completely wrong about his assumptions. Maybe she was just a jumpy female. He didn’t buy that for a second, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d misjudged someone he’d care for.
Although … Did he care for Nessa? His bear did on an instinctual level, but Murphy didn’t know her, and what he did know, he’d already condemned her shamelessly for. Guilt twisted his gut.
He’d disliked her on principle just because she was a human, even though that wasn’t fair to her. He’d assumed she was untrustworthy because her background check had been bogus, and while he believed she was running from trouble, he naively figured she was the reason for her misfortune.
But what if he’d been wrong? What if she was running from danger? What if she was an innocent in need? Murphy’s protective instincts exploded through his system.
His claws cut deeper into his palms, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep a snarl from pouring from his lips. His counterpart stomped through his mind, on the prowl for an enemy to take out, wanting to defend their female. Dissatisfied that it couldn’t act now.
Murphy closed his eyes, a muscle jumping in his jaw as he struggled to calm down. We don’t want to scare Nessa, he reminded his bear.
Immediately, his bear stopped its incessant pacing, and some of the fury riding Murphy dissipated. Releasing a long exhale, he opened his eyes, focusing on the intriguing shade of Nessa’s hair under the warm glow of the kitchen light.
He’d go to Tank’s cabin tomorrow morning and ask Hunny what she knew about her friend. In the meantime, he didn’t see the harm in learning a bit about his houseguest.
“Where are you from, Nessa?”
Her grip tightened around the ladle she was using to stir the noodles.
Sighing, she placed the utensil onto a paper towel on the counter before turning her attention to him.
She tucked her silky hair behind her ears, and he couldn’t help but notice how delicate the curves of them were. “What are we doing here, Murphy?”
He willed himself to look away from a lobe he suddenly wanted to nibble on and blinked at her. “What do you mean?”
Nessa rolled her eyes. “I mean, you told me to come inside so we could figure out what to do about your mating sickness issue. But instead of talking about that, you want to ask me about my personal life. Why do you even care? You don’t want to mate me.”
“It’s not you, specifically, that I don’t want to mate,” Murphy hedged. At her droll look, he added, “It’s complicated.”
“How enlightening,” she countered sarcastically. Her attitude should have had his hackles rising. Instead, his shoulders loosened and his claws retracted.
What was it about her that made him feel so comfortable? Was it only because he recognized her as his mate? Or was it something else?
“This isn’t an easy conversation for me to have,” he tacked on, dropping his hands onto the countertop as they glared at one another from across the kitchen. “But I’ll try to answer some of your questions.”
“Sounds great.” She quirked a brow in challenge. “Why do you hate humans?”
“The same reason you hate shifters,” he snapped back, though he kept his tone low, not wanting to frighten her like he had before. She was safe with him, damnit, and he needed her to know that.
Nessa gaped at him in disbelief. “I don’t hate shifters, Murphy. I wouldn’t be here helping you if that were the case. Why would you even think that?”
“You called me a monster,” he reminded her. Except, as her eyes watered and her chin trembled from an unexpected onslaught of emotion, he wished he could take the words back.
“I wasn’t in my right mind when I said that,” she whispered, blinking quickly to alleviate some of the moisture welling up in her eyes. “I’m sorry for what I said. I don’t know if it matters to you now, but I don’t think you’re a monster. You saved me from the real monster.”
Hesitantly, she reached across the kitchen island, settling her small hand over his much larger one as she kept him trapped in her chocolate-colored gaze. “You saved my life, Murphy. I don’t care how you did it, only that you did. Thank you.”
Heat, unlike anything Murphy had ever known, spread from his chest and toward the rest of his body until he felt so hot he could burst.
When was the last time someone thanked him for anything?
Saving his mate was his duty and his privilege.
It was second nature, just like being an alpha.
He’d long since grown used to being constantly relied upon.
Taken for granted. But for her to look at him like he was the only male that mattered while she expressed her gratitude?
It did something to the cold, neglected organ he’d once called his heart.
He felt like he could sprout wings and fly. Like he could take out a million of her enemies and never grow tired. Like he could get lost in the dark abyss of her gaze and relish every second of it, so long as she kept her eyes trained on him. It left him flustered. Off-kilter.
Unsure of how to respond, Murphy simply nodded. His bear curled into a ball, his counterpart letting out a rumble of contentment before the beast finally fell silent.
Nessa’s beautiful, coral-colored lips lifted into a small smile. And then she gasped, whipping around toward the stove.
“Shit, the sauce!” She ripped the pan from the stovetop as she grabbed a small dishtowel, frantically waving the cloth a few inches above the pan. Tiny puffs of smoke rose into the air. “What a rookie mistake!”
Murphy’s nostrils flared as the smell of burned tomato and basil wafted through the kitchen.
He remained seated on his stool, not wanting to crowd her space and potentially startle her again, watching as she tossed the towel onto the counter before aggressively stirring the sauce, her shoulders stiff with annoyance.
He found it funny that she was so irritated over such a minor issue.
“What’s the verdict?” he joked after a minute of tense silence.
“It’s probably ruined,” she replied, her voice small.
“I’m sure it’s fine, Nes.”
There was that damned nickname again. He didn’t even know why he was compelled to call her that, but it felt good. Right, somehow.
Her shoulders slumped. Switching off the stove, she turned around and blurted out, “I-I’m from Chicago, but I don’t really want to talk about it. A lot of my life is in the past, and I’d like for it to stay there.”
Murphy’s mouth turned downwards into a frown. “I’m fine with that.” For now. “But I have to ask; are you in danger, Nessa?”
She stilled, panic flashing across her face a split second before her expression grew guarded. “I don’t think I am anymore, no.”
He really didn’t like that answer, nor her reaction. If she really believed she was safe, why the panic? “I won’t pry for more information, but if something scares you, or you think you are in danger, you need to tell me immediately.”
“Why?”
Because you’re mine.
The thought flashed through his mind like lightning, but instead of being followed by a quick, adamant denial on his part, Murphy felt the truth settle into his bones. “Because I’ll protect you from anything. Without a moment’s hesitation, Nessa.”
Nessa’s cheeks turned a dull shade of red before she hurriedly turned back toward the stove.
Opening a few cabinets, she found two plates, pulling them out and placing them on the counter before opening a drawer and retrieving some forks.
Once she’d plated the spaghetti, she set down the dish in front of him and took a seat at the other stool, careful to keep a bit of space between them.
As the smell of the meal hit his senses, his stomach growled with hunger. Damn, this smells good. Without wasting another moment, he twirled several noodles around his fork, taking a large bite. As the first taste of food hit his stomach, he groaned happily. After another forkful, he was in heaven.
“Considering you nearly burned my house down,” Murphy joked between bites, “this tastes delicious.”
Nessa let out a small laugh, taking a dainty bite of her own meal. “If you think this is delicious, even after I nearly ruined the sauce, you really need to extend your palate. Maybe some pancit. Adobo?” She sighed dreamily.
He furrowed his brow. “I’ve never heard of those. They any good?” He’d need to look up what those dishes were when she left.
“Uh, yeah,” Nessa answered slowly. Then she grinned, her features softening. She was so beautiful. It was impossible to look away, so he didn’t. “But considering I’m Filipina, I’m a bit biased.”
“Does that mean you’ll be making me some pancit before too long?” Now that she’d smiled at him like that, he didn’t give a damn what the dishes were as long as she said yes.
She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, studying him intently. “Depends.”
Murphy narrowed his eyes into thin slits. “On what?”
“On if you stay docile like this when we talk, or if you morph back into your grumpy, snarly self. Nice Murphy can have all the food he wants. Mean Murphy can’t.” Nessa shrugged, sending him a teasing smile. “And just so you’re aware, I’m an excellent cook.”
“Burned spaghetti sauce aside?”
She gasped in mock outrage, clasping a hand over her heart as if he’d wounded her. “Strike one for Mean Murphy.”
“What if I said it was the best burned meal I’ve ever had?” he asked seriously, doing his best to keep from smirking as she gasped again.
“I’m tempted to add that as strike two,” she warned. “Luckily for you, I’m feeling charitable.”