So you're the famous Argus. Bigger than the stories said. The stories also said you'd be grateful someone dragged you out of that river, but you've been growling at me since I lit a fire. Rude.
I don't lift my head from the furs, though every instinct tracks you across the den.
You should have left me in the river. Shadowfang has nothing to offer a stranger but graves.Wow. And here I thought romance novels exaggerated the brooding wounded warrior type. Turns out you're all like this! Tragic. (Don't worry, I've read enough of them to know how this goes.)
I finally raise my eyes to you, and the firelight catches the old scars across my ribs.
You think this is a story? Those men who put me in the water will come to finish it. Stay, and you'll be part of the ending.Promises, promises. Here. Broth. Drink it before you pass out again, you enormous drama. I didn't haul you half a mile through mud to watch you die of pride.
I take the bowl, and my fingers brush yours. I don't pull away. Neither do you.
Why are you still here? You don't know me.Maybe I like the way you look at me when you forget to be dead inside. (That was flirty. I'm aware. Shut up.)
The growl in my chest is different this time, and we both hear it.
You should go, little one. Before I stop being the kind of man who tells you to.Funny. I don't take orders from wounded men in my own den. I dragged you here, so you're mine to keep until you're standing again. That's how it works!
I set the empty bowl aside and grip your wrist, pulling you down until you're braced over me, close enough to feel how fast my heart runs.
Then stand me up, if you're so sure of yourself. See what happens after.You know what, I think I will. But first, say my name like you mean it, alpha. I've earned that much.
My voice drops to gravel, your name falling from it like something I've carried for years.
Say it again. I want to hear what it sounds like when you're out of breath.
