Chapter 31

(Mabel's POV)

I paused, my hand hovering over the cart full of food. Zane had already gestured at it, but a strange hesitation gripped me. I hadn’t eaten in front of someone in so long, especially not someone like him—one4 of them, the powerful, intimidating Alpha.

"Why don't you pick first?" I asked, my voice unsure.

He shook his head, his eyes narrowing with what seemed like a mixture of disbelief and mild amusement. "No," he said firmly, walking toward the cart, grabbing a fork. "Eat."

I opened my mouth to protest, but the way his gaze held mine made my throat tighten. I was hungry, desperately so, but something inside me wanted to follow the pack’s old rules—wait for the leader, let him go first. A silly habit from the past, one I wasn’t ready to shake.

Zane didn’t give me the chance to voice my thoughts. He picked up a piece of sausage with the fork and held it in front of my lips. "Eat," he commanded.

My hand twitched, the instinct to grab it myself rising, but he stopped me with a soft but firm shake of his head. “You’re hurt,” he said, gesturing to my wrist. “Let me feed you.”

I froze, a flicker of confusion and something else—something I wasn’t ready to confront—passing between us. But I didn’t pull away. Instead, I opened my mouth and let him feed me.

The sausage was warm, rich, and savory, filling me with a sense of comfort I hadn’t realized I needed. A small sound escaped me—a moan, soft and involuntary—and it was the strangest thing. I hadn’t made a sound like that in years, but here, now, it felt... right.

Zane’s gaze flickered over me, his jaw tightening. I couldn’t read him, but something shifted in the air. His hand lingered too long on the fork before he quickly withdrew, swallowing hard. "Do you like it?" he asked, his voice strained.

I nodded, too embarrassed to say much else, and he smiled, a look of approval dancing in his eyes.

“I’ll order more of those,” he said.

"No need," I quickly replied. "There’s so much here." My stomach felt full, but there was something in his eyes—something intense and protective—that made me say, “Aren’t you going to eat too?”

Zane raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “You’re starving,” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself, but then he grabbed another forkful, pushing it toward me. "Eat," he insisted, his voice soft but commanding.

I reached for it, letting him feed me bite after bite. The food was delicious, too much even, but I couldn’t stop. I was too famished.

With every bite, a little piece of the wall I’d built around myself seemed to crumble. I wasn’t sure if it was the food, the care, or just the fact that, for the first time in so long, I didn’t have to pretend to be strong. But I was full. Completely full.

"I'm done," I said quietly, feeling a pang of guilt.

Zane frowned, clearly unconvinced. “Really? You barely ate.” He picked up a piece of bacon, offering it to me like it was the most casual thing in the world. “Come on, you can have this much.”

My hand shot up, a reflex. “No,” I said, but my voice lacked any real conviction. “I’m full. Really, I am.” I didn’t want to look ungrateful, but I couldn’t eat another bite. It wasn’t just food; it was everything else he was offering. Everything I didn’t know I needed.

Zane gave me a long look, his expression softening. “You’ll put some meat on those bones,” he muttered. “Little by little.” His words caught me off guard, making my heart lurch with confusion. Was he... was he worried about me? About how thin I was?

I tried to dismiss the thought, but another part of me couldn’t help but wonder why he was so concerned.

Before I could ask, Zane moved the carts further away, turning his focus on me. "Let me check your legs," he said, his voice gentle but firm.

I stiffened, not sure why the idea of him inspecting my body made me nervous. He was an Alpha, after all. What was I to him? What did it matter if he saw my scars?

But when he kneeled in front of me, the act of it—so strangely intimate—caught me off guard. A huge, powerful Alpha on his knees in front of me. My heart skipped a beat, and I couldn’t help but think of fairytales—the prince and the glass slipper... except this wasn’t a fairytale. This was real.

I extended my leg to him, hesitating only for a second before trusting him. Zane’s hands were warm as they settled on my skin, just above my ankle. His touch sent an odd, pleasant shiver through me, and I swallowed hard, hoping he couldn’t hear the frantic beat of my heart.

He applied some cream to my bruised skin, his fingers moving with surprising care. And I, despite myself, closed my eyes, trying to focus on anything but the sensation of him touching me—his touch like fire and ice, soft and electrifying all at once.

When I finally opened my eyes again, I realized I had let my guard slip too far. There was no denying the attraction between us anymore, no matter how much I tried to ignore it.

Zane looked at me with those intense, stormy eyes, and I wanted to say something, anything to break the tension, but the words stuck in my throat.

“Turn around,” he said softly, not giving me a choice.

I did as he asked, letting the bathrobe fall from my shoulders. His sharp intake of breath was enough to make my skin crawl with self-consciousness. He was looking at me, really looking at me. But I wasn’t ready for it. Not like this.

Mabel, don’t think too much.

I had to stop myself from overthinking, but the way his hands brushed over me, the heat of his body close to mine, was impossible to ignore.

But I couldn’t be distracted, not now, not when I had so many questions. Was I safe here? Why was he helping me?

Zane rubbed the ointment in slowly, his movements steady and careful. But I knew this wasn’t just about the pain. It was something else. Something neither of us was ready to face.