Ruthless Alpha, and his Curvy Saint-Chapter 24

Angel’s POV

Uriel appeared from nowhere, his expression pleasant but firm.

My face immediately erupted in flames. Heat crawled up my neck, across my cheeks, all the way to my hairline. I couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t meet those silver eyes without remembering my humiliating proposition from last night.

"The Alpha needs you to do something," Uriel continued, addressing the priestess. "He asked me to escort Angel instead."

The priestess’s eyes narrowed slightly. Something passed between them - a look I couldn’t interpret. Tension. Challenge. Understanding?

Then she simply turned and walked away, leaving me alone with Uriel.

In broad daylight.

Where I couldn’t hide behind darkness and shadows.

Self-consciousness crashed over me like a wave. Last night, the darkness had been merciful, softening my appearance, hiding the worst of the damage. But now, in the harsh morning light, there was nowhere to hide.

My face probably looked like a swollen, blotchy mess. My hair was a disaster of tangles and dried blood. My lips felt dry and cracked. The bruises on my skin were vivid purple and yellow. And my dress - God, my dress was little more than blood-stained rags that exposed far too much of my body.

I quickly turned away, unable to bear the thought of him seeing me like this.

"Angel? Are you okay?"

His voice was gentle, concerned. It made my eyes sting with unexpected tears.

"Yes," I managed, my voice small. "Just... embarrassed. About last night. What I said."

It wasn’t entirely a lie. I was embarrassed about that. Mortified, really.

But mostly I was embarrassed about this. About him seeing me in daylight, seeing exactly how ugly and broken I really was.

I felt his hand take mine, warm and steady, and fought the urge to pull away.

"Come on," he said softly, tugging me forward. "Let’s get you cleaned up."

We walked into the forest, following a path that had been trampled by previous travelers. Uriel kept his stride slow, matching my limping pace without comment.

"You shouldn’t worry about last night," he said after a moment. "I understood what you meant. You’re a kind person who can’t help but offer help to others. You saw that I might be uncomfortable sleeping outside, and you offered to share your space. That’s all it was."

His tone was matter-of-fact, casual, like he was discussing favorite colors.

"I didn’t interpret it any other way," he added. "And I hope you won’t let it make things awkward between us. I’d like us to be friends."

Friends.

The word settled something in my chest. Relief washed through me, so intense I felt lightheaded.

He didn’t think I was a prostitute. Didn’t think I was trying to seduce him. He understood. He’d actually understood.

"Thank you," I whispered.

We walked in silence after that, and I kept my face carefully angled away from him. The forest was beautiful in the morning light - dappled sunshine filtering through leaves, birds singing in the branches above, the smell of earth and growing things.

But I couldn’t enjoy it. Not when I was hyper-aware of every step I took, every breath I drew, every moment Uriel might glance over and see me clearly.

Was he already regretting offering to escort me? Was he bored? Disappointed?

Should I say something? Try to recreate the easy conversation we’d had last night?

But what would I say? I didn’t know how to talk to men. Didn’t know how to be charming or interesting or any of the things women were supposed to be to catch a man’s attention.

Not that I was trying to catch his attention.

I was going to be a nun - whether that monstrous Alpha wanted it or not. I’d dedicated my life to God. Men weren’t supposed to matter.

But then why did my heart race every time Uriel spoke? Why did I care so much about what he thought of me?

Focus, Angel. Just get through this without embarrassing yourself further.

The sound of rushing water reached my ears before I saw it - a river, wide and clear. The bank was covered in smooth stones, and the water looked clean enough to drink.

Perfect.

"Here we are," Uriel said, stopping at the edge of the trees. "Go ahead and wash. I’ll stand guard here, but I’ll give you privacy. I won’t look, I promise."

He turned his back deliberately, crossing his arms over his chest, his posture relaxed but alert.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"Take your time," he replied without turning. "We’re not in a rush."

I made my way carefully down the bank, my bare feet finding purchase on the smooth stones. The water would be cold - I could see my breath in the air - but I didn’t care.

I needed to wash badly. Needed to feel clean again.

Even if it was just for a moment.

I glanced back once before reaching the water’s edge. Uriel stood exactly where I’d left him, his back to me, his dark hair ruffling slightly in the breeze.

A guardian angel. I was grateful for him.

Even if I had no idea how to show it.

I stood at the river’s edge, my fingers trembling with cold as they reached for the tattered remains of my dress.

The dress was so ruined it barely qualified as clothing anymore. Torn up to my thighs, the neckline hanging by threads. I’ll just have to manage it until I can find something better.

I glanced back at Uriel.

He stood with his back to me, rigid and still, true to his word about privacy.

Taking a deep breath, I peeled the dress off my body.

It stuck in places where blood had dried, pulling at my skin painfully. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, not wanting to draw Uriel’s attention. Finally, the ruined garment came free, and I stood completely naked in the morning air.

Cold bit into my exposed skin immediately.

I clutched the dress to my chest for a moment, suddenly overwhelmed by vulnerability. When was the last time I’d been naked outdoors? Never. This had never happened.

But I couldn’t bathe in my clothes, so I carefully laid the dress on a nearby rock, planning to wash it later once I’d cleaned myself.

The river beckoned, clear and cold and promising.

I took a step toward it, then paused.

Something felt... strange.

Wet.

Between my legs, something felt distinctly wet. Not the normal moisture of sweat or the lingering dampness from days without proper hygiene. This was different. Slicker. Warmer.

Confused, I brought my hand down to investigate.

My fingers came away glistening.

I stared at them in the sunlight, watching the way the moisture caught the light. What was this? It didn’t look like blood - too clear, too viscous. Not water either.

Frowning, I brought my fingers to my nose and inhaled.

The scent was musky. Distinct. Something I’d never smelled before but that seemed to trigger something deep and instinctive in my body.

What is happening to me?

Terrell’s POV

What the hell am I doing?

I stood with my back rigidly turned, staring at tree bark like it held the secrets of the universe, while the girl I’d claimed to protect undressed behind me.

Since when did I give women privacy? Especially women I actually wanted to see?

In all my years, I’d never been accused of being a gentleman. I took what I wanted, when I wanted it. Privacy was for those who had something to hide or something to lose.

I had neither.

And yet here I stood, playing the noble protector, denying myself the sight of...

Don’t.

But the thought was already there, persistent and demanding.

My wolf paced restlessly, wanting to turn around, wanting to look, wanting to claim what it insisted was ours.

Before I could change my mind, I turned my head slightly.

Just a glance. Just to make sure she was safe.

That’s what I told myself.

My enhanced vision caught her immediately, and I regretted looking instantly.

Jesus Christ.

Angel stood at the river’s edge, completely naked, her generous curves on full display in the morning sunlight. Her skin was pale where it wasn’t bruised, soft and unmarked by the harsh musculature of a warrior. Her breasts were even more magnificent than I’d imagined - heavy and full, the kind that would overflow a man’s hands. Her hips flared dramatically from a surprisingly small waist, creating the kind of hourglass figure that inspired poetry and wars.

But it wasn’t her body that made my breath catch.

It was what she was doing.

She had her hand between her legs, fingers glistening with moisture. As I watched, frozen in place, she brought those fingers to her nose and inhaled, her expression confused and innocent.

She had no idea what it was.

No idea that her body was responding to the mate bond. That her arousal was a direct result of being near me, of the primal connection trying to forge itself between us.

She was wet for me.

And she didn’t even know it.

For the first time in my life, my cock stood up in a painful erection without the help of a woman’s touch.

Fuck.