Page 203 of Rogue Alpha Prince
I vent so long that my freshly washed hair is already getting dry, the water is almost cold, and Cain doesn’t have anyone more to scrub clean.
He sits opposite me, head and forearms resting on the bathtub’s rim, his facial muscles completely relaxed, making him look a little bit bored, but he is patiently listening.
“And I feel so fucking cheated, you know?” I hit the water between us, splashing him, and he clicks his tongue, irritated, but still doesn’t say a word. “I didn’t want to have kids, but then… and now… I don’t know… It’s… I feel…”
I can’t talk aboutit. Not yet. I splash the water again, and Cain catches my wrists, water dripping from his face. He yanks me up a little bit too harshly for my state and puts me out of the tub.
I throw him a towel and start to dry myself, too, but get dizzy. He immediately picks me up and carries me to the bed.
He goes around to my wardrobe and throws panties at me. “And that pink toiletry bag, please.”
He looks at it a few seconds too long and finally brings it too. Then, when I’m done putting my underwear and liner on, he climbs under the covers with me.
“Why are you taking care of me when you have so many servants and even more responsibilities,” I ask, genuinely curious.
Cain has the biggest pack of werewolves in the world—with possible warzones on two fronts, and he is here with all this patience and silent support.Andhe never left my side for a week while I was in the hospital. He’s not going anywhere now either, just climbing on top of me, and it looks like the middle of the day, “Is it Sunday?”
“I take care of what’s mine,” he says in my ear in his husky, low, devilish voice. “And you are mine.”
“I’m not.”
“I chose you, and I claimed you,” he says with a smirk, pointing his chin at the mark on my neck. “You aremine.”
“I am not,” I repeat stubbornly.
“Sure,” he chuckles, “And I’m not completely in love with you.”
Chapter 54 – The Crimson King
Before I can react with disbelief, shock, laughing, mocking, or whatever the fuck I would feel about that sarcastic statement of Cain’s—if he would let me process it—he leans down and seals my lips with his.
He knows he doesn’t want to hear my response.
I kiss him back without letting his tongue in, but it quickly turns passionately desperate anyway. We kiss, we bite, we touch our faces, necks… He stops his hand at my clavicle, drawing my attention to the fact he’s being respectfully tamed with his touches, just following my lead, not forcing, not pressing, because he knows…
And then it dawns on me. CainknowsI’m in pain. He can feel it through the mate bond. And I can feelhispain, too.
It’s unbearable. A sob escapes my lips, and he wraps his arms tightly around me, pressing me to himself—making it even harder to suppress all of the agony that wants to escape me.
“You are allowed to grieve even if you didn’t want him.”
I cry, hiding my face in his neck, and then I fully register what he said and start to laugh through the tears.
It’s this kind of rare, healing laugh that sometimes happens when you are talking with your best friend; when you speak so raw, even the biggest problems turn into this bellyaching, tear-drawing laugh…
Cain presses his lips to my temple, and I feel him smiling. “What?” he asks with amusement.
“Future Kings and their certainty of siring the first son,” I look at him with glossy eyes and a huge grin.
“Oh, it wasjust a figure of speech,” he rolls his eyes, but I can feel through our complete mate bond that he’s not irritated. Quite the opposite.
“Yeah, that’s what my father said. And here I am, with a boy name, because he was so sure about having his first heir to the throne to think about a girl name just in case.”
“King Asher,” he rolls off his tongue. “You really did give up all of that for me, didn’t you?”
“Not for you, you megalomaniac. For all the werewolves.”
“Oh God, you would die before admitting I’m not as horrible as you thought.”
