Chapter Sixty-Three

Ryder cupped Saffron’s cheeks with his left hand, forcing her to look up at him, while his right hand snaked over her neck, finding purchase on her nape-one of his favorite place for holding her–locking her head in place.

“You are not a murderer!” He enunciated slowly, his gaze and tone hard, as he looked into her eyes, making sure that she saw and felt the verity of his words. “You did not choose to do that,” his gaze flicked towards Myra, before returning to his pretty shaken mate. “She would have killed you.”

“But I killed her!” Saffron yelled, her libs wobbling, as fine tremors overtook her body.

“In this world, it is either kill or be killed,” he stated with no remorse, his hand gripping her neck tightly. “You did what you had to do, and I am proud of you.”

“You are proud that I just killed someone?” she asked, her tone ripe with disbelief, as she fought against the hold he had on her, putting some distance between them. “Are you insane? Look at her!” she yelled, pointing at Myra’s body, which seemed to be knitting itself back together, albeit slowly. “That is not who I am! This...” she choked up on a sob, slapping a hand over her mouth, to stave in the rest of her sobs. “If being a werewolf means killing someone, then I don’t want to be one.”

“Well too bad,” Ryder responded, crossing his hands over his chest, his gaze still hard upon her. “You can’t choose whether to be a werewolf or not, you were born one. The sooner you accept that, the better for you, and everyone involved.”

Ryder detested the fact that they were fighting, not when they were finally starting to find their footing together. But in this moment, she needed tough love, not the coddling she was used to.

He didn’t want a weak mate, someone who succumbed to despair when life dealt her a wicked card. What he needed was someone who would come out of a bad situation, soaring, someone capable of making the right decisions, even while under extreme pressure.

The Saffron he was seeing now, was reminiscent of the Saffron she had been, when she had first arrived at the pack house, and though he still loved her, he loved the other Saffron better.

The one who had saved herself while she had been held and tortured in the dungeon, the one had bested both Alaric Vaughn and Ivan Smith, his father’s fiercest warriors. The one who had survived all the challenges that had been thrown in her way.

He needed that Saffron, if he was going to steer his pack towards the future he sought, and bridge the gap between their two packs.

He returned his focus to her, some of his hard resolve melting, when he saw how truly shaken she was by her fight with Myra.

Perhaps, not everyone was meant for the blood and gore that came with being part of a werewolf owned mafia gang. But maybe, she would do well with pack politics, something to think of, when she didn’t look like she was about to lose her damn mind.

“Listen,” he said softly, taking a step towards her, but braking abruptly, when she took an involuntary step backwards, her hands wrapping around her midsection, as she folded in on herself. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, the words–words he had only uttered here and there–tasting foreign on his tongue, as he raised his hands in placation, telling her without words that he meant no harm to her.

Though it hurt him to think that his mate thought he was a danger to her, a part of him understood why she was rejecting him.

It still hurt though.

Perhaps, they needed to have a sit down soon, when she was in the right frame of mind, so they could have a better understanding of each other.

Ryder took a tentative forward, and when she didn’t move an inch, his heart soared to his throat, as he closed the distance between them, inch by inch.

When he finally made it to her side, and enveloped her into his warm body, Ryder let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, relieved that she had let him touch her, instead of bolting like she had initially intended.

He began to purr for her, the soothing rumbling sounds making her begin to relax in his grip, her tears soaking his shirt. Her breaths tickled the exposed skin of his chest, as soft hiccupping sounds left her lips.

He focused on purring for her, the soft sounds increasing in tandem, making her relax more and more into his body, until she sagged onto him, her body weight now fully supported by his own.

He picked her up bridal style and headed towards the hot spring, just like they had intended, hoping that the hot water with its healing properties, combined with his purr will keep her calm enough that she would tell him what exactly had gone down between her and Myra.

He had known that Myra wouldn’t take the news of him finding his true mate well, but he hadn’t intended for anyone to find out about Saffron, until he had been crowned as the Alpha Supreme of his pack.

He had no idea how Myra had found out, and he hoped for his sake and Saffron’s, that she was the only who knew, and that the truth would die with her.

Ryder should have felt terrible for hoping that his ex-intended was dead, but she had hurt his mate, and if she wasn’t dead, then she would wish that she was, by the time he was done with her.

By law of his own making, he didn’t hurt women. But when said woman had hurt his mate, then all bets were off.

He should have stayed and ensured that she was dead, or that no one would stumble upon her, but he couldn’t think beyond ensuring that his mate was taken care of, to the best of his capabilities.

Later, he would verify whether she was truly gone or not. But for now, Saffron needed to be tended to, and hopefully, she would start talking soon.