Page 86 of Rogue Alpha Prince
“Why isn’t it healing already?” I look at the blood on my hand, startled.
“I told you it would work.”
No, if it worked there would be a pretty metallic scar there now.
“You also told me we have to love each other for it to work, so…”
“I guess you have your answer now. And I have mine.”
He smirks and kisses me, then laughs at the annoyed face I make.
Why does he insist on making me admit I fell for him?
“Ugh, leave me alone,” I say without conviction. “It didn’t work, and you know it. I’m just too tired to heal after all you did to me today.”
“All I did? I fucked you—only twice—and it was very tame and quick, not so tiring. It was nothing. Or did you mean all the ugly crying to make me soft on you, and hard for you? Because that’s all on you, babe.”
“What the fuck, Cain? No, you know what? Fuck you!”
He laughs and I almost reach the doors, wishing I was alone right now.
“Why did you even come with me? I was perfectly capable of coming here alone. Oh my god, I am so over your toxic shit today, I can’t stand you anymore. All you do… all you do is—”
“Oh my God,woman,” he grabs my face, making me look at him, “I love you so much I can’t stand it.”
He kisses me again and then takes my hand to go inside.
I follow him, dumbfounded.
He said it, again. No sex. No gain. No emotion-packed situation that clouds your judgment. Does he love me in his own fucked up way? Is it possible? How did that happen? We’ve known each other for like a week. Two, tops. I don’t even know.
“Do we really need it?”
“What do you mean? We are both alpha-blooded wolves, of course we need it!” I hiss at Cain, turning into a family-planning aisle.
Normal werewolves are less likely to have any infertility problems, but they still have to try, sometimes for many months—just as humans. Alphas though? We are fertile, alright. My siblings are perfect evidence.
“Oh, come on, I fucked hundr— I mean I fucked a lot, and I don’t have any kids yet.”
“Oh yeah, and how many other royal alpha-blooded chicks did you fuck?”
He’s silent with a stone face. I’m the only one. That’s what I thought.
I point at a poster that mentions ‘delaying the ovulation’. I was close.
“Will it work on you?” He asks skeptically looking at the ‘plan B’ boxes.
“Yes, it will,” I show him the app on my phone that tells you if something works on werewolves and if you need a standard dose or bigger, and by how much.
“Wait, that’s so cool.” He puts a huge pack of condoms into my shopping basket and takes my phone to take a better look.
“You don’t need extra large ones?” I ask about the condoms, just to mess with him, while browsing through the flavored ones. I am curious.
“Aren’t they all supposed to roll even on an arm?” He laughs lightly.
I feel how wet my shirt has become.
“Mhm,” I answer absently. My neck wound is not healing at all. Something is wrong.
