Reclaimed By My Alpha (Natalia and Andrei) novel Chapter 42

Natalia

“Natalia, eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” I lied, looking away.

“You need to eat.” Andrei moved the plate closer, and the smell of perfectly roasted elk made my traitorous stomach growl. “You lost a lot of blood earlier. Your body needs protein to heal.”

I finally looked up at him. He’d cleaned up since dragging the elk back–the blood was gone from his leathers, and his dark hair was damp like he’d splashed water on his face. Those green eyes almost seemed to hold tiny sparks of their own as the flickering bonfire reflected in their depths.

“I said I’m not hungry.” I folded my arms and deliberately angled myself away from him on the bench.

“And I said you need to eat.” He sat down on the bench beside me without invitation and set the plate on the table between us. “You’re pale. When was the last time you ate anything? And you can’t just drink all that wine on an empty stomach with an injury to boot.”

Truthfully, I had been so nervous about coming to the hunt that I had hardly even eaten my breakfast today, and the wine had indeed gone to my head a lot faster than I expected.

But I wasn’t about to admit any of that to him. Not after everything, and not after what he had done to me in the forest, kissing me against my will like that.

I tried to scoot away, but my leg protested with a sharp throb that made me hiss through my teeth. Andrei noticed, of course, and frowned.

“Just take one bite,” he said, picking up the fork and spearing a piece of meat. “Then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Andrei-”

“One bite, Natalia.”

He held the fork up to my lips, and I found myself staring at the perfectly cooked meat. Pink in the center, charred on the edges, glistening juices dripping down the tines. My stomach growled again, louder this time, and I saw the corner of Andrei’s mouth twitch with satisfaction as my tongue darted out to wet my lips.

“Come on,” he cooed, waving the fork around a little. “Don’t make me make airplane sounds.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help but suppress a laugh. “Fine.” I leaned forward and bit the meat off the fork, chewing slowly, my eyes never leaving his.

It was incredible. The elk practically melted on my tongue, rich and gamey with just a hint of smoke from the fire. Before I could stop myself, a small sound of appreciation escaped my throat.

“Good?” Andrei asked, already cutting another piece.

I nodded reluctantly and accepted the plate when he slid it toward me. My hunger had finally won out over my pride, and I began eating properly, trying to ignore how closely he watched me. It really did make me feel better;

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Chapter 42

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the meat seemed to help me regain some of my strength, and my head cleared.

“Let me see your leg,” he said after I’d demolished half the plate and another cup of mulled wine.

“It’s fine. The healer already-”

“The stitches are pulling.” He shifted on the bench and angled himself toward me, patting his thigh for me to prop my leg up. “I can see the blood seeping through the bandages. Let me look.”

“No.”

“Natalia.” He said my name like he had so many times during our marriage–exasperated, but this time, there was something else there, too. Fondness? “Stop being stubborn and let me help.”

I wanted to refuse again, wanted to get up and limp away just to spite him. But my leg really did hurt, and the warmth spreading through the gauze indicated that he was probably right about the bleeding. And with Damon still gone, it didn’t feel like I had much of a choice.

“Fine,” I snapped, shoving another big bite of meat into my mouth. “But make it quick.”

He gently lifted my leg and placed it on his thigh. I tried to ignore the fact that I felt his muscular quads shifting beneath me as he carefully removed the bloody bandages, and instead focused on my plate.

“These are deep,” he murmured as he examined the three gashes. I chanced a look at it and saw that the stitches had held, but the skin around them was angry and red. The sight made me grimace. “That wolf got you good.”

“Yes, well, that’s what happens when feral wolves show up at peaceful hunts.”

Something flickered across his face–guilt, maybe, or regret over nearly shedding wolf blood on sacred grounds. Certainly nothing to do with me, though. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass bottle filled with pale green ointment.

“This will help,” he said, uncorking it. The scent hit me immediately–shockingly minty and sweet.

“What is that?” I asked.

“Family recipe.” He dipped two fingers into the ointment. “It’ll numb the pain and help prevent scarring. May I?”

I nodded, bracing myself for a harsh sting like the alcohol the healer had used. But when his fingers touched my skin, spreading the ointment over the wounds with light touches, all I felt was blessed coolness. The throbbing eased in an instant, replaced by a pleasant tingling sensation that made me sigh in relief.

“Better?”

“Yes.” The word came out softer than I would have liked it to, but I did mean it. “Thank you.”

He continued working in silence, applying the ointment until the wounds were covered in a thick coating of it. Then, he pulled a fresh roll of bandages out of his pocket and replaced the bloody ones. Despite myself, I found myself staring at the top of his head as he worked, at the way his dark hair caught the firelight.

I had never seen this side of him in our years of marriage. He had been so cold and closed off, but this… this tenderness… It took me by surprise, and it softened something deep inside of me, like an ice wall around my heart

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beginning to perspire in the spring warmth. Not melting, but just barely beginning to form drops of dewy water on the surface, steaming slightly in the first rays of sun after a long and dark winter.

But then a giggle from nearby shattered the moment.

I looked up to see a group of young she–wolves watching us, whispering behind their hands. One of them pointed at where my leg sat on top of Andrei’s, and whispered something that made her companions giggle again.

Ah. So that was what this was.

This wasn’t real concern. This was another manipulation, another game. He was making a show of tending to me, playing the devoted brother–in–law in front of an audience. Making it look like there was something between us, like I was letting him touch me intimately while my mate was away.

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