The Alpha's Nanny
At the final part, she stood. Even though she would never be on level with him, she didn’t want to feel so small. She took a deep breath and forced herself to look him in the eyes. She had to tell him what was going to happen, whether he liked it or not. This was her life and she refused to be forced into being afraid. She was a good person.
He stepped toward her.
She didn’t move back, even though she wanted to. Standing tall, she glared at him. There was no way she was going to back down. When they were toe-to-toe, she was tempted to run. Squaring her shoulders, she refused to back down.
“You saw what happened to me last night. I could have died.”
“You didn’t. I had nothing to do with it. You can’t keep blaming me for everything a human does. I don’t blame you for everything bad a wolf does, and you keep on pointing at us as if we’re the worst kind of monsters. I know packs of wolves have gutted and hung humans from the inside out as fun. You’ve hunted us, played with us. I don’t hold that against you, and I beg you to stop doing it to me. I’m not a monster. I’m just me.”
“I only kill those who deserve it and I don’t play with them, nor do I eat them,” he said.
“Doesn’t mean all of your kind are the same.”
“What is it you want from me?” he asked.
“To be treated as a person.” She licked her lips as they were suddenly dry. “For you to not want to kill me and for you to know and understand I will never, ever, hurt you. I’m not a bad person.”
“You’re not a bad person. All of your people had trackers in them, but you didn’t.”
“I’m not one of them.”
“You’re not,” he said.
“Do we have a deal?”
He didn’t speak. His gaze kept moving from her eyes to her lips. What was he thinking? “We have a deal. I won’t hurt you and I also won’t threaten to hurt you.”
She relaxed, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
He didn’t move back. With the position she was in, she couldn’t move either, not without brushing up against him.
Why wasn’t he moving?
She stayed still. Waiting.
He didn’t move. What did he want from her?
She tensed up as he cupped her face. She didn’t fight against him as he tilted her head back.
“What are you doing?”
Again, he didn’t speak.
She couldn’t get him to do so.
There was no rush.
His hand was on her face, stroking her cheek, then down, cupping her chin. Then his thumb slid across her lips, and she waited. She’d read about moments like this.
Was he going to kiss her?
She’d never been kissed before. Was this going to be her first time? Did she even want to be kissed by him? Especially after he’d attacked her, hurt her, accused her of betraying him?
She wasn’t a doormat. He didn’t get to say those things to her and then kiss her.
Do you want his kiss, though?
Did she?
She placed her hands on his chest and even though he didn’t budge, she forced herself to move away from him.
“I didn’t say you could go,” he said, his voice rough.
“And I don’t want to be in your company right now. I left a lasagna in the oven for you. It should be fine for you to eat.”
“You’re walking away.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I have to.”
“I was going to kiss you,” he said.
She stopped and looked past his shoulder. “And I was going to let you, but you don’t get to treat me that way and then kiss me. I’m still human and you’re still a wolf. I think if you kissed me, you’d hate yourself for it.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve got your own kind, right? You hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“But I’m convenient. My first time with a man is going to be real. It’s not going to be because I’m in the right place at the right time.” She tucked her hair behind her ear.
“I’m not used to women rejecting me.”
She smiled. “There are firsts for everything. I don’t want to make this hard for us, Rocko. I know this isn’t an ideal situation for you.” She shrugged. “I hope one day you can at least see me as a friend.”
Rather than say anything more, she went upstairs, checking on Daphne before entering her bedroom.
Had she just made the biggest mistake of her life? Did she want to kiss Rocko? Yes, of course she did. He’d been so close and it would be so easy and inviting to give in to him, but she’d held herself back. She wasn’t a doormat.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, she looked down at her hands. They were rough from years of hard work. She loved being out in the open or in the kitchen.