My Stepmother Sold Me to the Alpha Who Hates My Father's Name, and the Child He Wants Is the Proof That Clears It novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: Unasked, Asked

He did not move.

I had told him not to, and he stood in the middle of my cold room with his big hands open at his sides.

"Come in," I said. "I said it already. All the way."

"I'm in."

"No. Over here."

He crossed the boards in two steps.

I did not leave the door, so he stopped in front of me, close enough that the heat of his chest reached me through his shirt.

I had to look a long way up.

I was angry, and I let it show.

"You put me in the last chair," I said.

"I did," said Ned.

"You said *debt*," I said.

"I did."

"You said *the Lowry girl*, four days running."

"I did," said Ned.

I put my hand flat on his chest and shoved.

I did it hard, the way you shove a stuck door.

He rocked back half a step and caught himself.

Under my palm his heart ran fast and heavy.

"Say it," I said.

"Say what?"

"My name."

His eyes closed.

"You said I could have it when you let me," he said hoarsely.

"I'm not letting you yet."

I took hold of his shirt in both fists and pulled his head down, and I kissed him.

It was not gentle.

I kissed him angrily, with my teeth in his lower lip, and he made a sound I felt in my knees.

He did not touch me.

His hands stayed at his sides, curled into fists, with the tendons standing out in his wrists.

"You can't," I said into his mouth.

"I can't," he said.

"Not until I say."

"I know it," he said, and his breath shook.

His whole body was shaking with the effort.

I pulled back.

His mouth was dark and wet, and his eyes had gone nearly white.

I looked at the Alpha of three hundred wolves, a man nobody had ever made kneel or beg.

He stood in my cold room with his hands at his sides because I had told him to.

I had never had that from anyone.

It went straight through me, hot and low.

"Hands," I said.

He brought them up.

I took his wrists and set his palms flat on my hips, over my nightshirt.

"There," I said. "Not one inch more."

His hands closed, and I felt the heat of them through the cloth.

I took the hem of my shirt in both hands and pulled it over my head.

I stood in front of him in the lantern light in a pair of cotton underpants and a bee scar on my shoulder.

I watched him look.

He did not look at the wall.

His gaze went over me slowly, from my collarbones down, and what it did to his face I would remember for a long time.

"Say what you see," I said.

"You," Ned said.

It was almost a whisper.

"Say it plain."

"Your breasts." He swallowed. "Your waist. The scar on your shoulder from the hive."

I put his hands on my breasts.

He made a noise in his throat as if he had been hit in the stomach.

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