Page 61 of Sold to the wrong Alpha
“Then what?”
“I’m talking about protecting you.”
“I can protect myself.”
Brody exhaled through his nose. A low, animalistic sound, heavy with frustration that filled the room with dark, heavy pheromones that clouded Ren’s vision for a second.
“I’ve seen you protect yourself, Ren. I picked you up off the floor of my security booth, half-dead with fear, with a crumpled piece of paper in your hand. Don’t tell me you can protect yourself!”
The blow landed where it hurt the most. In his pride. In the truth.
Ren clenched his teeth until his molars ground together.
“Fuck you, Kovac.”
“You already did that last night.”
Ren’s eyes widened. The flush returned to his face with such force that even his eyelids burned. Brody didn’t move. He kept a straight face. He didn’t apologize. He stood there, his eyes fixed on Ren and that stony expression that offered no apology for anything.
“I’m not moving into your room.”
“Ren.”
“I said no.”
He yanked the door open and stepped out into the hallway with the box of suppressors pressed against his ribs and his heart pounding in his ears so loudly he didn’t hear if Brody said anything else.
The air smelled of wet earth and jasmine. Ren was sitting on the stone bench under the magnolia tree in the backyard, his legs drawn up to his chest and the box of suppressors balanced on his knee. He hadn’t opened it. He looked at it as if it contained instructions for a life he didn’t know how to live.
The mid-afternoon sun warmed the back of his neck. The birds were singing. Everything was absurdly peaceful for someone who felt a storm raging inside his skull.
He heard the footsteps before he saw Jax. Heavy, wide footsteps that made the gravel on the path crunch with the delicacy of a rhinoceros strolling through a glassware shop. Jax plopped down next to him on the bench, and the stone groaned under his weight.
“What the hell have you done to him?”
Ren didn’t look up from the box.
“Who?”
“The only alpha in this house who looks like he just swallowed a hornet’s nest.” Jax stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. “He has locked himself in his office for an hour, growling at anyone who comes near. Rocco brought him coffee, and he nearly ripped his head off. And I’m not kidding.”
“I have done nothing to him.”
“Ren.”
“We had an argument.”
“About what?”
Ren twirled the box between his fingers. The pills rattled inside with a dry, medicinal sound.
“He wants me to move into his room.”
Jax said nothing for three seconds. Ren counted each one.
“And?”
“And I told him no.”
