Page 9 of Forced Mate Bride
“If there’s one thing I hate,” he said, staring down at his plate, “it’s cowards who prey on women. They’re the lowest of the low.”
She didn’t say anything, but studied him, taking in the bristling rage, his stiff posture, the hard set of his shoulders. She sensed there was a story there, but she was too afraid to ask about it. It felt too personal, like simply asking what it was that upset him so much would breach some sort of unspoken contract.
“Thank you for saving me,” she finally said. “If it weren’t for you …” She trailed off again, unable to voice what they bothknew would have happened had Jasper not stepped in. It was a miracle he had been walking by when he did.
“There’s no need to thank me,” he said. “I didn’t get there fast enough.”
She wanted to argue, but she stayed silent, still considering him. Their eyes met, and a ripple of electricity ran through her body at the look there. There was something about him that seemed to make her mind go blank, and all she could think about was what his hands had felt like when he’d dressed her bandages, when his thumb had lightly brushed against the gash on her side.
As if he could read her thoughts, his eyes flicked to her stomach, then back up to her.
“How is your stomach feeling?” he asked. “Do you want me to check it?”
The thought of him running those calloused hands across her bare skin sent an inexplicable rush of heat rippling through her, and she blushed, feeling childish for doing so. She coughed and shook her head.
“No, it feels fine, but thank you.” She wiped her mouth, getting to her feet. “Thanks so much for the breakfast. I should probably get home.”
Pushing herself to her feet, she grabbed her plate and placed it in the dishwasher. She could feel him watching her, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn and glance in his direction. Her heart was still pounding.
She moved to the living room and grabbed her bag, still on the couch from the night before. There was a long scratch in the leather from where it had skidded across the street the night before. Grimacing, she tried half-heartedly to buff it out with herthumb before giving up and slipping it over her shoulder. The bruises and other aches protested the simple movement.
Just as she was about to walk to the door, Jasper’s hand rested on her shoulder. She stiffened for a moment, then turned. Her heart leaped in her throat at just how close he was.
“You can’t leave while there’s a lunatic out there hunting for you,” he said. “I wasn’t sure about it last night, but after our conversation at breakfast, I’m certain. You should stay here.”
She laughed, thinking it had to be a joke or some offhand, unserious comment. “While I appreciate the concern, it’s not like I can stay at your place forever.”
She meant it to come out flippantly, expecting him to laugh. He didn’t. Instead, his face remained stoic. Her own smile vanished.
“You can’t keep me here,” she said. Her voice was flat, emotionless, somehow sounding both stunned and disbelieving despite that.
“I think it would be safer for you,” he said, his tone just as flat. Not quite dangerous, but something about it—the intensity, perhaps—made her skin prickle.
“I need to get going,” she repeated.
His eyes hardened just a fraction. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist.”
Her heart began to pound, though this time it was more with anxiety than any sort of attraction to him. She took a step back, and his hand fell away from her shoulder.
“Jasper, you do realize how absurd this sounds, right? I can’t stay here forever.”
Again, she meant it to come out flippantly. But again, Jasper didn’t smile.
“I’ve been thinking about how to make sure this doesn’t happen again, and I think the best way to keep you safe is for us to get married,” he said.
She burst out laughing because he had to be joking. Only, he wasn’t laughing with her.
She gaped at him, incredulous. “You’re serious?”
“I don’t make jokes about these things,” he said. “Lucas is going to think twice about coming after you if you’re the second-in-command’s wife. The entire pack will be hunting him down if he does something like that.”
The words rang in her ears, refusing to come together into a coherent sentence. Once again, she waited for that stern, serious façade to crack, for him to burst into laughter and tell her he was joking.
His determined expression didn’t change.
She shook her head. “No. That’s not happening. Ever.”
“I’ve made up my mind,” Jasper said, folding his arms, that handsome face stern and unyielding.
