Daddy Alpha I’m In Heat (Lily and Connor) novel Chapter 73

~Lily~

“You’re awake.”

The second I heard that voice, my entire body tensed because no part of me recognized this ceiling, these sheets, or this scent. And then my brain caught up and I turned my head so fast that my neck cracked, and I was immediately overwhelmed by everything happening all at once.

“What the fuck,” I said, sitting up halfway even though my back screamed. “Where the hell am I? This is not my bed. This is not my house. This is not my life. Why is the blanket so soft? Why does my ankle feel like it’s been stitched by a wolf? And why are you here, Alex? Why are you sitting in that chair like you live inside a novel where the mysterious man watches the broken girl sleep like some fucked–up bedtime angel?”

I didn’t even breathe between sentences. I just kept talking because if I stopped, I would probably panic. Or cry. Or throw up. Or all three.

Alex raised his hands like I was an animal about to pounce, which honestly wasn’t too far from the truth at that point.

“Relax,” he said. “You’re in my house. You got hit. You passed out. I brought you here.”

I blinked at him, very slowly, because none of those words made sense to me.

“Your house?” I said, my voice full of offense I hadn’t even decided on yet. “You brought me to your house? You just scooped me off the street like some medieval knight and brought me here? Were there no hospitals? Were there no actual places meant for bleeding girls to go? What part of any of that made sense in your brain? Because if you think I’m going to sit here and be all grateful and soft because you put me in a bed with nice pillows, you have severely underestimated how much trauma I’ve been through lately.”

“You were soaking wet and unconscious,” he said, like he had to remind himself not to yell. “It was either bring you here or let you die in the street.”

“Okay, well,” I said, throwing my arms in the air, “next time, please at least ask me first before carrying my broken body into your bachelor cave of pain and pinewood, because I am literally losing my mind and waking up to you is not helping!”

He stared at me, jaw tight, eyes sharp, like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if I was stable enough to hear it.

“You screamed,” he said quietly. “Before the bike hit you. You screamed and then you went down. I thought..”

He stopped talking, and that silence hit me harder than anything else.

I blinked again, slower this time, because something inside me twisted at the way he was looking at me like he had been watching my ghost.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, staring at him. “You thought I died. You thought I fucking died. You saw me get hit, and you thought I was dead, and you brought me here anyway because..what? You didn’t want someone else to touch me? You didn’t want strangers cutting off my clothes? You didn’t want Connor to find out first?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “I brought you here because I care about you.”

“No,” I said immediately, pointing at him. “Do not say that. Don’t you dare pull the caring card right now while I’m lying in your bed wearing clothes I don’t remember putting on and smelling like a man I’ve only kissed once.”

“I didn’t change you,” he said quickly. “The healer did. She’s a woman. She checked everything. You’re not injured beyond bruises. Just sore.”

“Great,” I snapped.”

“You really don’t stop talking, do you,” he muttered under his breath.

“No, I don’t,” I snapped right back.

He flinched at that and looked down.

I groaned dramatically and flopped back onto the pillows, then instantly regretted it because pain bloomed in my spine like a punch from the inside out.

“Fuck,” I muttered, tears stinging my eyes.

“Everything hurts. My back. My ribs. My pride. I feel like I got hit by emotions and then got hit by a bike just to balance it out.”

He walked closer, slowly, like he wasn’t sure if I was going to yell at him or pass out again.

“Can I sit?” he asked, motioning to the edge of the bed.

I rolled my eyes. “You already kidnapped me, Alex. What’s a little bed invasion at this point?”

He sat down carefully. His presence made the mattress dip slightly, and I hated how warm he was.

I hated how good he smelled. I hated how my chest still fluttered even when I was furious.

“You scared me,” he said softly. “I didn’t know if you were going to wake up.”

“Well, I did,” I muttered, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “And now that I’m awake, I would really like to know what happens next. Are you keeping me here like Rapunzel? Are we going to talk about the giant elephant in the room? Are you going to kiss me again and then pretend like you didn’t? Or are you going to keep watching me like you already made up your mind that I’m yours?”

“I couldn’t help it,” he said quietly, and the moment the words left his mouth, something inside me went completely still.

I stared at him, waiting for my brain to catch up, waiting for him to finish the sentence in a way that would make it make sense, because surely I had misheard him. Surely he was about to say something else. Surely he was about to explain that he meant he could not help worrying, or that he could not help staying, or that he could not help carrying me here.

“What?” I asked slowly.

He swallowed, his jaw tightening like he already knew he had crossed into something irreversible.”

I touched you“. “You were unconscious. I tried not to. I really did. But I couldn’t help it.”

The room felt like it tilted sideways.

“You touched me?” I repeated, and my heart started pounding so hard it drowned out everything else. “Alex, what are you saying right now? You touched me while was unconscious?”

He took a step closer without thinking, then stopped when my eyes flashed. “I did not hurt you,” he sáid quickly. “You were so fuvking wet. And I could smell it-”

“You’re fucking sick, Alex,” I shouted.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you hear yourself right now? I was unconscious. I was injured. I did not consent to anything. And you are standing there telling me you could not help touching my body like that is supposed to mean something good.”

“I did not mean it that way,” he said, his voice rising now too, frustration bleeding through the guilt. “I was not trying to take advantage of you. I was trying to make sure you were still there. That you were breathing. That you were alive.”

“The fuck!”

He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing now like a trapped animal. “You do not understand how hard it was to see you like that.”

“No,” I shot back immediately. “You do not understand how terrifying it is to wake up in a man’s bed and find out he touched you while you could not say yes or no.

“I’m leaving,” I said, gripping the side of the bed so hard my knuckles turned white. “I don’t want your help. I don’t want your sympathy. I don’t want your hands anywhere near me again. Just get out of my way.”

Alex didn’t move.

I swung my legs off the bed, and even though my ankle screamed and my stomach hurt like it wanted to fold me in half, I pushed through it. Pain was better than being pitied. Pain was better than lying in his bed while he stood there pretending he didn’t just admit what he did.

“I said move,” I snapped, every word louder than the one before. “Don’t stand there like you have the right to block me after everything. Don’t act like I owe you anything.”

He opened his mouth, and I expected another apology. I expected another excuse. Another broken sentence meant to calm me down.

But that’s not what he said.

“You lost your pup.”

I froze.