Chapter 60: Chapter 60 A Chance To Pull Away
**Perry’s POV**
"I refuse to do such a thing," I snarled, fury coursing through my voice, but Timothy simply watched me as though I spoke in tongues.
"Let’s cut through the bullshit," Timothy exhaled heavily. "We both know what’ll happen if I hadn’t approached you first to spell out the situation, even though you’re well aware that everything was just in your damn head."
Timothy was referring to my worst suspicions about what he’d done, or what they’d been up to during their outing.
"Fine. Get out. I need to speak with her."
Timothy shot me a wary glance. He wasn’t buying that I wouldn’t pull something reckless, especially after my last stunt, but what choice did he have? He couldn’t exactly bar me from seeing my own mate.
"Don’t be an ass, Perry. We both acknowledged there’s more to this story." We had agreed on that point, though Flynn remained another matter entirely—the royal beta still viewed Phoebe as trouble.
The reminder didn’t sit well with me. "I know what I’m doing."
"Doubt that," Timothy muttered, then bolted from the room before I could reach him, his comment having lit my fuse. He clearly didn’t want Phoebe meeting me while his smart mouth had me riled up.
——
Once outside, Timothy found Phoebe looking wound tight as a spring. Her mouth opened as if to voice a question, then snapped shut. Distress was written all over her face. By now, she had to know Perry waited inside for her.
"I don’t want to go in there," Phoebe whispered so quietly that only shifter hearing could catch it.
"Don’t sweat it, he’s mellowed out now. He’ll behave."
Phoebe’s expression screamed disbelief. Fair enough—Timothy wasn’t entirely convinced by Perry’s promise to play nice either.
"Relax, he’s just worried about you and pissed I didn’t bring him along." Timothy kept his tone casual as he squeezed her shoulder, though Phoebe remained unconvinced. "Go on inside and check out your new dress."
Phoebe looked ready to bolt, but quickly grasped that escape wasn’t an option.
"It’s fine. Trust me." Timothy gave her shoulder another pat, and Phoebe jerked away.
She recalled the last time Perry caught Timothy’s scent on her—he’d exploded and hurled vicious accusations. Though by now it was pointless, since Timothy’s scent covered her after their day-long shopping trip.
"Go inside, you’ll be okay, trust me."
"I don’t trust anyone." Phoebe didn’t say it from hatred, but from raw honesty. Years without anyone to rely on had made trust feel impossible.
"You’ll be fine."
——
**Perry’s POV**
Phoebe stepped into the room, flanked by two warriors carrying her new dress. Shopping bags littered the floor—at least twenty of them.
Inside, I sat on the bed’s edge, rising when she entered. Phoebe froze in place, then dropped to examine the shopping bags.
"Did you enjoy yourself today?" I asked, positioning myself behind her. Heat radiated from my proximity, and the room’s tension thickened as I moved closer.
"Yes," she nodded without turning around. Her back stayed to me as she silently begged me to leave her be.
"I see." I nodded, eyeing the bags scattered on the floor before crouching beside her. She flinched, and I pretended not to notice.
"Do you like everything?"
"Yes..." Phoebe’s hands fluttered nervously as she rifled through the dresses.
She wasn’t really examining anything, and once she’d gone through them all, she seemed ready to start over—a pointless exercise.
"Don’t you want to try them on?" I asked when her fidgeting became obvious.
"No." She shook her head.
"Why not? I want to see you in them." It still grated that Timothy got the first look, but I kept my temper leashed. I’d done well so far and wouldn’t wreck things now. The mood felt right.
"No..." her voice barely registered.
"Come on, try this one. I want to see how you look."
I pulled out a red dress, flashy and bold—definitely Timothy’s choice, not something Phoebe would pick.
She stared at the dress but didn’t reach for it.
"Or this one." I grabbed a bright yellow number, searching for something toned down, but found nothing. Timothy had gone overboard, and Phoebe wouldn’t have known how to resist the royal gamma’s persistence.
Just when I expected another refusal, Phoebe selected a brown dress. "I want to try this."
"Absolutely." I nodded encouragingly. This was progress. Nothing to spark an argument, as long as I kept my anger in check.
"Go ahead."
At this point, I couldn’t imagine anything setting me off.
Phoebe stood and headed for the bathroom.
I followed, grabbing three more dresses in muted tones since she seemed to prefer them.
Even the subdued colors looked elegant with their crystal embellishments.
Three minutes later, Phoebe emerged wearing the brown dress that hit her knees, with flowing sleeves and intricate gold threading across the chest. She looked stunning.
The dress color perfectly complemented her hair.
Nervousness radiated from her as she tugged at the hem, trying to pull it down. She wasn’t accustomed to anything but pants—not from preference, but because those were her only options.
I stood and approached her, then spun her around, instantly painting her cheeks crimson.
"You look beautiful," my voice came out rougher than intended.
"I don’t think so," she mumbled. "But the dress is beautiful."
"No, you’re beautiful," I repeated, sliding my arm around her waist and drawing her close. I leaned down but didn’t immediately claim her lips.
For once, I moved slowly, giving Phoebe the chance to pull away. When she didn’t, I kissed her softly. Her lips tasted like mint.
