Page 15 of Choosing Her Alpha
And it was on him as well. He'd been changing his clothes. That had been his shirt. His towel. Had he done that damage with his bare hands?
She hadn't even lifted her head, but she had felt his presence like a massive block of ice at her back.
Merrick and Maura had backed her into a corner, and in her desperation, she had made the worst possible choice. She'd acted impulsively. Now she just felt stupid.
She couldn't stop crying. She hadn't wept this much since her dad’s death. She hadn't wept at all since that night. Tears ran down her face, to her chin, uncontrollable sobs burned up from her chest, waves of emotion that refused to stop.
So stupid to come here. Should have waited for the Selection. Silas was right. She was going to die.
Her face felt hot and puffy, snot and spit covered everything. Sasha was still weeping at the unfairness of it all when the door opened and the alpha she had come to see entered the room.
He approached with a chilly, refrigerated blast of air against her skin. The male emanated a frozen, indifferent self-control. She didn't look up. Still couldn't face him.
"Alright, Not-Mary," he grumbled. She jerked as if he’d set his fingers between her shoulder blades and touched her. "You are just a child, aren't you? Why does a child trick her way onto my staff and get herself in a position to come to my office and see me?"
She wasn't sure he expected an answer to the question. He said it in a thoughtful way, as if she were a puzzle and he couldn't begin to guess where to position the first piece.
"Come, then." He nudged her hip with his giant foot.
Sasha gulped for air, choking on her own words before she could get them out. She knew she sounded ridiculous, but she couldn't stop the wracking sobs.
Certain now that she would never survive this, she let despair take her over. She might as well give in, be a weak, pathetic thing. At least she would die knowing neither her mother nor Merrick could claim the thrill of being the ones to kill her.
The alpha warlord made an impatient sound. Sasha flinched as if he’d struck her.
When he growled, she felt it sizzle through her entire body, and she couldn't stop the wretched moaning that came from her mouth. Was he going to squeeze her head like a grape? Justpop, and then brain matter everywhere?
When his arms came around her, lifting her against the sculpted wall of his chest, she shrieked in surprised. In contrast to his frigid presence, his body was hot where it touched hers.
"Stop that." He gave her a light swat on her bottom and then settled her like a baby in his arms. It didn't hurt, but she was surprised and squealed again.
Firm and hard, he barked, "No," and gave her another swat.
Sasha whimpered between cries. "Sorry, sorry. I don't… Sorry."
He took her out of the holding room, out of the torture chamber, upstairs, and down a hall to a place saturated with his ginger and musk smell. She found herself still in his arms, but now also in his lap, seated in a wide, comfortable armchair next to a high table with stacks of books, a data console, papers, data sticks, and a plate piled with food.
There was a heap of thinly sliced beef atop a bed of some sort of green vegetables next to the largest soup bowl she’d ever seen. The steaming container could have been a mixing bowl from the kitchen, it was so outrageously big.
Constantine arranged her as if he had done this a hundred times before. Settled her in his lap while he ate his lunch and read through a spreadsheet on his data console.
He took a bite of meat using his fingers, then held up a bite to her mouth. He took a bite of the long, green stalky things, then held a bite to her mouth again. A spoonful of soup to his mouth, and then one to hers.
Sasha automatically ate. It was odd; she was in a daze, taking what he fed her between gasping sobs. She wasn't hungry, but sitting like this with him reminded Sasha of her father. She didn't have the presence of mind to reject the intimacy.
His massive body around her. His heat and his spicy scent permeating her senses. She ate, and the huffing choke of leftover sobs faded.
He fed her from his fingers. She drank from his cup. She breathed in his smell until she was calm. Until the emotional flood just stopped, and she felt some of herself coming back.
She didn't know how he sensed the moment it happened—he just did. He took a drink from his cup, offered her another, then picked her up and sat her in the chair on the other side of the messy, full table.
"Who are you, girl?"
She looked at him, the biggest male she'd ever seen. She couldn't decide if he was good looking right now. His features strong and sharp, his black hair slightly curly and long, his presence was too overwhelming for her to make a rational assessment. He was alpha. Everything in her knew it and wanted to run.
She couldn't hold his dark gaze, not after her embarrassingly weak behavior and the disaster that was her first impression.
"I’m Sasha Dover, daughter of Edin Dover and his bride-mate, Maura," she answered. Her throat was scratchy and raw.
