The Alpha's Breeder 28 I Punched The Big Bad Alpha

The minutes slowly drawled by in extreme awkwardness and I could only shuffle from one foot to the other.

Eros continued to stare almost unblinkingly at my face to the point where I could feel my cheeks heat up in response.

My cheek twitches, "Are you done staring?"

He cleared his throat a second time before diverting his gaze onto my chest.

I unconsciously crossed my arms over my chest and narrowed my eyes at him.

"I'll go get you some dry clothes," he said, swiftly disappearing into the walk-in closet.

Almost 2 minutes later, Eros came back.

He handed me a white t-s.h.i.+rt that obviously belonged to him, purposefully brus.h.i.+ng his fingers against my own in the process.

Eros resumed his previous position against the door.

"I need to change," I state, my tone almost deadpan.

My eyes narrowed down on his lazy posture.

He obviously knew that I was insinuating for him to leave.

But here he was, playing dumb with me.

"Go ahead," he said with an amused quirk of his lips and a wave of his hands for me to continue.

His eyes glinted in a rather teasing yet dangerous way.

And I found that he seemed more approachable than before.

That stony cold Alpha facade that he keeps up in front of everyone was replaced by a more friendly one.

He was, surprisingly, more pleasant to be around than I thought.

I cleared my throat as if to clear the awkwardly heated atmosphere that his gaze caused.

"I'm not going to change unless you leave," I finally stated, glaring at him with a purse of my lips.

My mind couldn't wrap around the idea of standing naked in front of him, for him to inspect me from the inside out.

"You will forget your modest human tendencies soon, Emira," he replied with a click of his tongue and turned away from me.

At the sound of the door closing, I finally let go of the breath that I was holding and deflated like a balloon.

I really wouldn't have known what to do if he kept insisting on standing there instead of backing off.

I s.h.i.+ver involuntarily before quickly unzipping the floral dress and kicking it off.

Shoot.

The undergarments underneath were also soaking wet, cold and dripping water down my skin.

I clenched my jaw before deciding to forgo the bra and undies.

Which, at the time, I didn't realize was a really bad idea.

With my body facing the mirror, I stared at my beat up reflection.

All my wounds didn't look half as bad as I thought it would.

Some b.l.o.o.d.y sc.r.a.pes and cuts were somewhat closing already.

The bruises and raw skin made it look a little more painful than it felt.

Which was a good thing.

Some were far worse than others but nothing that wouldn't heal over with time.

I never mentioned this before, but nothing has been able to mar my skin thus far.

Even if I cut my stomach open, my wound would heal over to reveal unblemished skin in the span of a couple of weeks.

It was as if I never received an injury to that extent.

I suppose that's one of the nicer perks to having this non-aging ability.

My skin doesn't scar and seems to be far more resilient than that of the average human.

I just hope that I am as resilient and quick healing on the inside as I am on the outside or that would be a really bad combination.

I've never tested the theory and I don't really want to.

My hands wrung out the water in my hair before I pulled his t-s.h.i.+rt on.

As the cotton brushed against my cheeks, there was an oddly relaxing scent that fluttered to my nose.

After some closer inspection, I deemed that Eros' scent must have transferred onto the fabric.

Because the smell of rain in a green forest, wood, and musk, that clearly defined some sort of masculinity, emitted from the s.h.i.+rt.

It smelled a lot nicer than I thought it would.

Weird.

I don't know why but I felt as if he had worn this before handing it to me.

That or he rubbed it all over himself.