Page 99 of The Alpha’s Unclaimed Mate

He kisses me, barely a press of his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.” Then he tips his head, studying me. “What are you actually afraid of? Is it Mia’s safety?”

“Yes,” I start to say. The truth comes out instead. “No. With you around, I’m not afraid for Mia at all.”

His eyes light up. I’ve never seen that happen to him, and my heart skitters against my ribs.

“Well.” The corners of his eyes crinkle. “At least you think highly of me somewhere.”

“You think I don’t think highly of you?”

“If you want the truth, there are days I’m fairly sure you still take me for scum.” His mouth is smiling. His eyes aren’t.

“Marcus, that isn’t—”

“I have to go.” He stops in front of me and takes my face in both hands. “Lock every door behind me. Nobody comes inside, and that includes delivery drivers.” His thumbs press at my cheekbones. “Cole’s coming by. He’s the only one you open the door for.”

“Why are you being so paranoid?”

“Jessa.” His grip firms. “Just do what I’m telling you.”

I stand on the porch watching the drive long after the dust has settled, and my stomach won’t quiet down. When did I start needing him? I don’t have an answer, and I don’t like the question, so I go inside and throw the bolt.

I do the front door, then the porch doors, then go around the front room checking window latches because he told me to and because my hands want the work. After that, I put the chicken back in the pan to warm, and I get halfway through calling the girls down.

Behind me, a key turns in a lock.

I turn with the pan in my hand. I expected Cole, but the person who walks in has me raising my brows. Sloane slides the glass door open and steps into the kitchen. She drops a set of keys into her bag, and her heels click across the tile. Her hair is perfect. She’s dressed in a short white dress that shows off her hefty cleavage.

“Marcus isn’t here,” I inform her scathingly. “If you’re coming here to throw yourself at him, you should at least make sure he’s home.”

Her eyes tighten. “I came to see you.”

“How do you have a key to this house?”

“I’ve had it for years.” She lets the silence stretch exactly as long as she wants. “You’d have to ask him why.”

The safe room downstairs crosses my mind, but I dismiss it because Sloane is hardly a threat.

“Well, what do you want?” I study her. “You and I don’t know each other.”

She starts along the length of the island, trailing two fingers over the marble as she comes. “If you think you’re special because he’s letting you sleep here, you should climb down off your high horse.” Her fingers stop. “You’re a charity case, sweetheart. He sees a child with no father, a woman with no husband, and he can’t help himself.”

I tuck my tongue into my cheek and set the pan back on the burner. “Really. So he makes a habit of it, bringing home single mothers?” I look her over from her heels to her hair. “Well, you’ve missed your mark badly. Maybe go and get yourself knocked up, then try again.” I tilt my head. “Although I don’t think you’d be his type even then.”

She hisses through her teeth. “Watch your tongue, or I’ll pull it out of your mouth.”

I lift the pan off the stove. It’s still hot enough to spit at me. “Try it, bitch.”

Sloane stares at me. Then she scoffs and turns her face away, and the hair lifts on my arms.

“I’m not wasting myself on a human.”

“And what does that make you, an extraterrestrial?” But the words make something inside me tense.

“This is exactly why you’ll never have him.” Her smile comes back, pleased with itself. “You don’t even know what he is. People like Marcus and me, we’re evolved.”

“Is that so?” I blink at her. “What, do you use super deluxe toilet paper to wipe your ass?”

Her nostrils flare. “You’ll find out soon enough.” She lifts a glass off the island and holds my gaze. Then she closes her fist. The glass bursts inside her hand, blood running down her wrist, and she doesn’t blink.