Page 46 of Betrayed Alpha Mate

“I’m not hovering,” I snap, the restraint in my voice cracking. “I’m responding to scorch marks outside your door that don’t belong to any wolf in this pack.”

Her control shatters and shudders through her as she unfolds her arms. “I don’t need you to care about me, or police my life!” she snaps. “I didn’t ask you to come here. I didn’t ask for your concern. This isn’t black ops anymore. No one’s here to see anything.”

That last statement of hers stings, as if I’d been putting on a pretense while we were in black ops, as if I didn’t truly care about her. Didn’t she hear a thing I said the other night? That I’d never stopped wanting her? Doesn’t she know that I care about her? That I always have?

“You don’t get to brush this off, Em,” I growl, pointing at the scorch marks. “Not when something is targeting you.”

She laughs, sharp and bitter. “Targeting me?” she scoffs. “Or is this just another excuse for you to play alpha where you’re not wanted?”

More words like daggers that hit harder than they should.

“I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“I don’t need you!” she roars. “I can handle myself. With or without magic.”

The bond surges violently between us with fear, exhaustion, and the echo of the other night still clinging to her like smoke. She turns away from me, her boots crunching against the grass as she stalks toward the front of her house.

“Emily—”

“Don’t follow me,” she warns over her shoulder before she continues toward the front. She could go through the back door, but it’s like she’s trying to put enough safe distance between us, as if she’s afraid that I’ll stop her from entering through the door.

I should listen.

But my inner wolf won’t let me in the face of the danger that has clearly come for her. We’ve had enough experience with Arianna, Delilah, Gwen, and even Donna to know that this is not a mere coincidence. Though I can’t prove it yet, my instincts are screaming at me that the dark lord is coming after Emily next.

The bond tightens, panic spiking the farther she moves from the cottage. My chest aches with it, with the sight of those scorch marks burned into the earth like a promise.

I can’t let her go back inside when her four walls will do nothing to protect her. Before she can intercept what I’m about to do, I grab her impulsively, swiftly pulling her toward me.

She yelps as I lean down and pick her up before I sling her over my shoulder, her fists immediately slamming into my back.

“Sean!” she screams. “Put me down!”

“No,” I say firmly, tightening my grip around her waist as I march toward my house.

“Sean!” She fights like hell, kicking, pounding, squealing as she tries to wrestle out of my firm grip, but I don’t stop. I don’t slow down. I don’t even apologize.

“Stop fighting me,” I bark. “You’re not winning this.”

“This isn’t fair! You don’t get to do this!” she screams. “You don’t get to decide for me!”

“I do when your life is on the line!” I retort, huffing as I continue marching forward.

I don’t stop until my house comes into view, shoving the door open and carrying her inside, ignoring the way her magic crackles faintly against my skin, wild and unfocused as she keeps her fists pressed to my upper back.

I haul her straight to the guest bedroom—the one with olive green walls and gold trimmings—and set her on her feet just long enough to get her inside before slamming the door shut.

The lock clicks when I turn the key on the other side, my chest pounding, aching as I plant my forehead against the door.

“You can’t lock me in here!” she screams, pounding on the door. “This is insane!”

“You’re safer here,” I sigh, my chest heaving as I flinch against every pound of her fist on the other side of the door. “Hate me later. But I’m doing this for your own good.”

The pounding eventually stops, but the silence that follows is unbearable.

I sink against the wall outside the bedroom, head falling back as I drag in a shaky breath. My hands tremble—not from exertion, but from the image replaying in my mind over and over.

Those scorch marks…