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Her mouth falls open.
“That is the stupidest joke I’ve ever heard.”
He ignores her and makes his way into the kitchen, opening the fridge. She places her hand to her head and sighs, attempting to rub out the fog in her head.
She doesn’t know how long he intends on playing this warped version of house with her, but at least now she has a bath bomb for her troubles.
How he knew bath bombs were her favorite indulgence, she has no idea.
* * *
She dropsthe pink sweet-smelling sphere in the running water and watches it slowly evaporate and spread its color throughout the bathtub.
As she sinks into the too-hot tub, the cramps start to subside.
But she knows it’s only a matter of time before they come back.
These aren’t normal cramps. They’reHeatcramps, and she needs to accept that Abel will be in her apartment as she suffers through it.
Unless, by some miracle, the police decide to show up and arrest his crazy ass.
Yet, he doesn’t seem as insane as she expected him to be. Of the two of them, he’s been the more rational and self-controlled. He’s catered toherneeds, and never attempted to seek any pleasure of his own.
He cooked for her. He brought her a fucking bath bomb, simply because baths are supposed to help with her cramps.
She doesn’t understand it. He’s determined, smart, and thoughtful.
Or maybe you just fall apart when someone does anything remotely nice for you.
Probably. That’s it.
But as she soaks in her bathtub, it grows difficult to convince herself that he’s a monster.
And as her head grows foggy, she hopes that he doesn’t turn out to be one when her Heat starts.
CHAPTER 22
HAZEL
She findsAbel hours later on her laptop. After her bath, she scurried into her bedroom and locked the door behind her, passing out as soon as her head hit the pillow. When she opened her eyes again, her bedroom was dark and moonlight peeked through the curtains.
Despite her rest, she hasnoenergy. Fatigue washes over her as if there’s an invisible weight on her chest, and it takes more effort than it should to kick the blankets off of herself.
But she still makes it out of bed, her growling stomach navigating her toward the kitchen. She stops when she sees him at her laptop, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“Are you going to keep staring?” he asks her finally, his eyes never leaving the screen.
She opens her mouth to retort, but his scent envelops her. It’s richer than before and it speaks directly to hersoul.
It’s perfection.He’sperfection, and she has half a mind to climb into his lap and dry hump him to completion.
Alpha touch me!
But instead, all that comes out of her mouth is a quiet “thank you.”
That gets his attention. “What was that?” He turns to her, an eyebrow raised.
“Thank you. For…for the clothes. The suppressants. The food.”
