Page 16 of His Runaway Mate

She’s adorable. Blushing profusely with the blankets held up to her chin and a wide-eyed expression that is more flattering than a thousand compliments ever could be.

“Have you not seen a man without his clothes before?”

“Uh, yeah, I don’t know. Maybe?” she stammers.

“I sleep naked,” I explain. “I did remove your clothes because someone had dropped half a bottle of Midori on them. But I replaced them with something similar for your modesty.”

She looks down under the blankets, then looks up, blushing again. I managed to find her some pajamas here. They are pink and two piece, so not quite the baby bear onesie style she had on originally, but they serve the purpose.

“Cute,” I say.

“This is not what I would have chosen to wear to bed the first time I went to bed with you,” she mutters to herself, revealing that she had already accepted she would one day be in bed with me.

I did not expect to be so charmed. The first time we met she was rather charmless and artless. This time she is, well, I suppose she is being more herself without the bravado. Hard to keep up pretense of being a bad ass when you’re sitting in a man’s bed wearing pink pjs.

“Why did you take me?”

“Why did you think I took you?”

“Why don’t you just answer my question?” she whines, running her hand through her hair in a way that suggests she probably has a headache. Some men drug women and carry them off. My mate took care of the drugging part herself. Not that I would ever sedate her against her will. I like her aware of everything that is happening to her. I want her sensitive to it.

“I took you because you belong to me, and because I wanted to finish what I started with you. Unfortunately, by the time I found you, you were in no position to do anything.”

“I need toast,” she says. “And something else to wear. And a shower. And coffee.”

I smile and pull on a pair of pants.

“You’re getting dressed?” She sounds slightly distressed by losing her view of my cock, and everything else besides.

“Fescue prefers not to encounter me nude.”

“You talk about him as if he’s the leader of this pack.”

“I talk about him as if he’s the one who runs the household, which he is. The first thing any good leader needs to learn is how to delegate.”

“Do you have a little bell to summon him?”

I laugh at that, imagining what Fescue’s response to being called with a little jangling bell would be.

I press the button that turns on a light in his private study. In that room there is a map of the house. A corresponding light will light up representing my room, so he knows where to come.

“He won’t be a moment,” I say.

Less than two moments later, Fescue comes sweeping in. His first action is to hurl the curtains apart and heave the windows open, as if the stale air in the room is offensive to him. I am sure it is. I enjoy the scent of my mate, but there is no doubt she also smells like a party in a vape factory.

“How can I help you, sir?” he says, standing by the window, clearly endeavoring to breathe in only the fresh air coming from the outside. His expression indicates he is not succeeding in this endeavor.

“Some alternate clothing for the lady, some coffee and some toast, please, Fescue.”

“And for you, sir? A shirt, perhaps?”

I hear Nicky snort with laughter. “I like him,” she says. “You’re right. I’m glad you delegated your authority to this guy.”

Fescue looks faintly scandalized. “What manner of clothing would the young lady… never mind. I will find something suitable.”

* * *

Nicky