Coldsnap: The Billionaire Alpha's Fated Pregnant Princess (GL)-Chapter 367 - Gaining A Few More Nevers

Someone tried to approach me with what looked like a medical kit, but Kyrie stepped between us with a snarl that made him back up immediately. Her hand reached out with claw points up, like someone expecting an item to be placed there.

"Give it to me."

Not a request that suggested arguing would be wise. An order that expected obedience. The security member nodded, complied, and retreated like those angry little dogs people like for some reason were snapping at his heels.

I should have objected to her ministrations. Should have insisted I could handle it myself and ordered in return that she hand it to me. And I was going to, once I could stand up and raise my chin.

But when I tried to do just that, reality chose to remind me that motor control tended to be ’toggled off’ after a traumatic experience. She caught me before I slipped back onto the ground when my legs gave out.

One arm behind my shoulders, the other holding the case of supplies under my knees, lifting me like I weighed nothing. Princess carry - like I’d done for her through the forest. Though there were layers of clothing between our breasts then...

"...I can’t walk."

> Traitorous tongue! Don’t just blithely tell the truth because you are thinking of pleasant sensations! <

Stepping over Damien’s body without a second glance, thus began the ’runway show’ of two disrobed bloodstained beauties. For we traveled down a hallway of Rimecoat werewolves hastily pressing themselves against the walls as the main lighting flickered back on.

Normal, cool white coloring helped me see the exact lines of her face better than the dim, warm red. She looked like she could rip more body parts off at the drop of a hat, except after every five seconds when she’d look down at me lazily looking up at her.

Then that ruthlessness melted into a look that said thousands of things that are usually encapsulated by one umbrella word... and made my heart stutter. Thumping from her danger, fluttering from the L word unsaid.

It felt like it happened a hundred times before we stepped into the elevator. Each one more and more crushing and overwhelming until I eventually just turned my face so I couldn’t see her looking.

"Going home?"

"Yes. We are. And Claire?"

"What’s up, boss lady?"

"Financially crush everything directly connected to Ashen Threads within the next hour. You have my permission to use all your old tricks." 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

"...Gladly."

Speaking words through the intercom - words that almost sound like something I’ve said before to my own underling about a merchant company - the doors soon shut and the lift engages. Probably under the assistant’s direct computerized control.

Arms tightened fractionally around me. Only slightly painful, but... secure. And fragile.

> Like she is afraid I might disappear if she loosens her grip. And I really had been intending to do so. Going somewhere she won’t know. Safety out of cruelty. Like ripping out a throat. Or a heart. <

"I was outside that man’s apartment with Luca when the emergency ping came in on the hunter network."

"So that worked then. Lucky me."

In the mirror surface of the elevator upper walls, I stare at a reflection of her upper back. Snowflake and lunar cycle tattoo stretched firm as her back muscles remain taut. I guess I am heavier than I look and she is just acting tough...

"We’d found enough potential evidence to link him as the primary pack traitor and wanted to secure the devices it was on. He was scheduled to be out when we checked, so we planned to raid... when..."

Her teeth clacked shut audibly, clenching her jaw with a grimace that told me she was catastrophizing. As someone who can stew in that quite well herself, the appearance is obvious.

"When you decided to tear a different door off its hinges than the one at his home."

The very sort of supernatural monster that belongs in this world’s R-rated movies killed one of her own because of me. So I can allow her my help, to keep her moving along. It’s better to repay what she has done that little than staying silent.

"...It was in my way to get to... you."

My mate. Is what she wanted to say. I can feel it as strongly as I could the unvoiced word earlier. If this elevator could go any slower, I’d be surprised. It already feels like this has been a longer ’fight’ than what I’d just gone through.

And when I turn my face aside again, she takes advantage of my docile state... just a bit. The small but still searing silver wound on my neck meets her tongue - and it makes me close my eyes and shiver.

Tolerance should be active still, but I swear I felt every part of me grow cold. All except the pyre for my sanity, located squarely where the viscous fuel of her saliva sat it ablaze.

Never have I ever let anyone attempt to clean a wound like a common beast. Even cleansing of my fox form’s fur as a kit was done by elder shifters using hands, water, and simple tools.

"S-stop. You have a shower, there’s no need to-"

"You were wearing that on our date."

After speaking, I hear her spit what must be mixed blood out of her mouth. And in a moment of random lucidity, I feel sorry for whoever is serving as janitor this afternoon. Or whoever is coming in for the night shift that they will leave it to...

"Did you think I would fail to control myself when you tried driving me away?"

"...Yes."

Answering weakly when she rubs her cheek on mine, hearing her chuckle was the least of my expected results. Her next words were also quite... curious.

"Clever girl. I don’t know if you were right. To fear what I’d do if I really thought... that you could just accept it if I stopped restraining myself. But I’m glad."

She kisses my nose, my temple, and my forehead. Not necessarily in that order - and in some combination of six or seven rapid pecks. I’ve never let anyone do that to me either.

"So glad that you are a paranoid mess, Princess."

...And I’ve never had anyone tell me that.

⧖ ☾ ❄ ☽ ⧖

She didn’t leave me alone for a minute. Hovering even as she sat me down on her bathroom counter. Even had the audacity to look me in the eye and tell me to ’Stay’ - it was only the fact that she finally smirked when I scrunched my nose up that made me genuinely do so.

Reaching for a towel that smelled like it had been used to dry off, perhaps this morning, she wet it in the sink and began to scrub the gummy, drying blood from... everywhere. It seems like a shame to waste such a fine towel when running water will do.

I’m able to get a single medical scan on myself done as she works, without anything too concerning showing itself. Just a mention of lacerations and punctures that I already know are healing.

> But holding my hand specifically on my abdomen for six whole seconds... there’s no way I can do that without her noticing. <

During that, I notice that the checkmark is glowing. Likely to show me the failure of the task.

Offering her hand and helping me walk over to the shower itself, she didn’t even make a show of asking anything else. Just turned it on and closed the door behind herself. With both of us inside.

Water ran pink throughout her continued attempt to get me spotless. Her fingers press closely around the punctures, sending little jolts of pain as it flushes them. And I patiently let her until the last of the blood entirely was wiped away - by my fingers through her white hair.

Stains might not show as strongly in mine, if it sets in, but the thought of her enemy’s blood discoloring hers at all bothers me. Even if her scent is exactly that kind of crisp snow and blood-iron, exactly as her fur looked this evening in her primal glory.

An image that will likely stay with me forever.