Chapter Twenty-Two
Caleb
This was a mistake. And not just because I want to fuck her every which way but because she’s a nightmare to sleep next to.
Every time I’m about to fall asleep, she mutters something in her sleep.
I sit up and look at her. If I just take this pillow and place it over her head . . .
I shake the thought from my mind. No, I can’t do that yet.
But I have to get some sleep. I drop the pillow, trying to figure out what to do with her.
I flop on my back and groan, then turn my head to face her. My eyes scan her curves. She’s in my bed and within reach. And her booty is right there. It’s a constant cycle. I want to kill her, I want to fuck her . . . kill her, fuck her, kill her, fuck her. It never ends.
Ugh, okay. Think of something else. Um . . . balls. Big hairy balls. King Dax’s balls.
I lift the sheet and peer at my crotch.
Oh yeah, that worked.
Why did I tell her she could sleep with me? I could’ve tied her to a tree outside. It would’ve been much more appropriate. Now there’s an idea. Damn, maybe I’m the masochist. Is it me? Am I the problem?
No, wait, it’s the bond that’s the problem. Not me. I’m just a victim.
She turns onto her side facing me. Her hands are cupped under her head in prayer. Her mouth is parted slightly open. I stare at her without interruption or a time limit. I’m free to just stare. It was rare I got to see her like this. Before her capture, she was almost always in wolf form.
Except that one time I took her books . . . And damn, the things she reads. I got hard just from thinking about her getting hot and bothered from such dark scripture. I discovered a new kink—which is anything she’s into.
Her button nose has a little shine at the tip. I never noticed that before.
Seeing my T-shirt swallow her whole, I picture her in a lace-trimmed camisole that shows the swell of her breasts. If she were wearing it, with the ways she’s posing, her cleavage would be on display . . .
Ugh, not again. Alright, um . . .
But I don’t have to think of anything to settle my boner because Jay knees me right in my balls in her sleep.
Holy shit. Ow!
I flick her off while she’s sleeping. Bitch.
Clutching myself, I turn over and scoot. Probably safer if I sleep on my side from now on. I drift to sleep to her scent, thinking about how I’ll have to burn these sheets later.
I don’t know how much time has passed when I wake again, this time shivering. When I look down, and the covers are gone, and there she is, wrapped up in every sheet and blanket.
So not only is she an alpha killer but a thief.
I get up and grab another blanket from the closet. With a huff, I finally get comfortable and shut my eyes, but the piercing lawnmower has them shooting back open.
Dear Goddess, she snores?
I take another pillow and place it over my head. It doesn’t help completely but enough that I finally fall back asleep . . .
Until she wakes me with kicking, tossing, turning and sometimes screaming.
Hold her, my wolf says.
What?
She’s having a nightmare. Hold her. Our bond will help.
You’re outta your mind, I’m not holding her.
Fine. I’ll go back to sleep. Enjoy your night.
Fuck! Fine.
I wrap an arm around her, pulling her to my chest. Her jittering stops, and she breathes evenly. I hate that it can’t be like this, that I can’t hold her close, make her feel safe—not for long. If only things were different.