by Unknown
"Apologizing is beneath you, Alpha," I tell him, the bond wrapping around me like a shield, one that's cutting me from him, to protect him.
"Look, Scarlet," he sighs, running a frustrated hand through his messy dark strands. "I know what I did to you was wrong and you have every right to hate me-"
"A shocker."
"But I promise you I'll do everything in my power to make it up to you. I'll change. I'll become a better man and a better Alpha. I'll be everything you want me to be but you need to move on from the past so we could turn a new page."
A past that's been just yesterday. Chuckling out a humorless laugh, "A new page? Just like that." I snap my fingers in front of his face.
"No. I don't expect you to forgive me so easily." He shakes his head. "I know I have a lot of groveling ahead of me. What I'm asking you is to try." His voice sounds sincere, hopeful. Face matching the sentiment, guilt is lurking behind like a fire lit in the wild, yet, contrary to his words and tone, he's not someone asking for forgiveness, begging for redemption of his sins.
He's expecting it from me like a right he should be granted. Because and regardless.
I study him curiously as he stands a few tension filled inches away from me, awaiting his answer. Clad in jeans and a black t-shirt that fits tight over his big, muscular chest, he keeps his shaking hands to his sides, forcing them there, away from me as he fights the need to touch me, perhaps even comfort me.
For once, acting like he's giving me the right to make the decision.
My eyes traveling up to his chest, I can count the abs under the shy material, trace the hard planes of his torso, needless of a map. But I don't want to. It makes no difference to me.
Drool-worthy, alluring with that sensitive, vulnerable spot on his neck bared in invitation for the mark to seal the mate bond, none of it matters. It's him. Still him.
He leans closer to me, offering me his hand, offering me himself to take. "What do you say, baby? Will you give us a shot?" he coos.
Struggling against his imposed authority, neglecting the cry of the bond connecting me to him, I listen. The voice of self-preservation that's been guiding me in the darkest days is shouting at me to lay low, bend my spine, tilt my head and bare my own neck for him to do what a mate is supposed to do...
Stretching my arm toward his... Swallow my pride. Accept my fate.
Today is not one of these days. Today, there's another voice joining. Screaming louder. Deafening me with truer words. An internal chorus that chants: Leave... Wither... Alone...
"I say..." I draw out. Slowly, hesitantly. Shaking in my insanity. "No."
My hand falls back to my side before any contact is made. The cruelest of jokes just like the one the Moon pulled on me.
"Why?" I shake my head, swirling away from him, from the mask of anger draped across his handsome face like a curtain, morphing it into an ugly, hard grimace, from his gaping in shock mouth, and head out of the bedroom.
"I'll return this shortly," I inform him, remembering the silk nightgown he's dressed me in that's flowing down the length of my body.
"One of your lady friends may want it back, Alpha," I add, head low in respect I don't feel what-so-ever, then tiptoe out of the room, closing the door behind me soundly without a single whispered farewell.
(8) Breathless
|Regan's POV|
Letting the beast out, letting him roam in this territory, a land claimed from the dying... I remember that night so clearly that it has now turned into a permanent horror which haunts my nightmares just like she has haunted my dreams. It's her, that faceless woman who always evaded me; now she's here. Her face is naked for me to see, her soul is bared and it's dark, coal black, tainted by my own two hands.
I let the whispering in my fur wind take me farther from the house, deeper into the forest that is now mine, farther from her. Waking up from my dream, there are only nightmares to stay and she is the new, constant part of them. Like a fragment of my fractured past, she's come back to create a new kind of misery for me to live in.
The need for her burns in my veins. Never to be chased out.
I slow down my pace, padding along the forest path made by human feet that's leading me towards the meadow. The place is quiet, only the whispers of the surrounding me nature reminding me that I am a part of a world shared with others and not nearly as alone as I feel now without her to accept the beast pacing inside me like the caged animal he is... I am.
I rest on my hind legs, the skies stormy gray like her eyes are to me. Judgmental. Condemning.
The wolf lifts his head towards the non-existent moon on the still bright surface, muzzle opening to let out a long, pain-filled howl. Crying for a mate who isn't going to come and surrender herself to him.
Why is he lifting that song to the skies? What is he saying with no words spoken? What can he give her that she needs?
For hours, I stay at that meadow, on a grass that is no longer green but dying. The soil underneath is hardening in frost with the coming winter, fallen, dry leaves are swept by the wind, rotting under my paws after being crumbled to small particles...
Everything will turn to dust.
The house is quiet when I return. The pack members residing with me here are missing, probably ventured outside into our territory to give us space so we can resolve the issues between us, or just to say their own farewell to the last few days of warmth before winter falls.
Sneaking into the house, as quiet as a cat on the prowl, I go to my chambers to get myself cleaned up from my recent activities. Shifting is often a messy deal, the transition from human to wolf and then back leaving the body sticky with sweat from the exertion. Besides, I'm not ready to face her yet. I need to appease the beast so he doesn't do something we'd both regret later.
Discarding my clothes on the floor I hop into the shower, sparing several minutes to stay under the cold water, washing off sweat and anger. Her scent is faint now, barely a note fading in the spacious place, but it is enough to make my need sparkle up with a new intensity.
Someday, she will be here with me. She will allow me to wash her body, to trail small circles of passion on her skin, to drink all of what she is, but not today. Even the beast knows this is a time that wouldn't come for a while.
I feel myself growing hard by the very thought of sharing this moment with her, my body responses proving to be independent of the solemn sentiments battling against my rib cage. Another kind of moisture mixes with the water as I clasp my fingers around myself, stroking myself to release.
It's not her palm giving me this bittersweet pleasure but my own.
Turning off the water, I exit the shower and wrap a towel around my hips. After, I slide on a pair of jeans and fall to the floor beside my bed, sickened by my own actions. It's not right for me to do this when I've found my mate, when she must be the one satisfying my cravings but I can't ask her for something she's not willing or ready to give.
I let my head drop into my palms, gathering the leaking out of my eyes moisture into my hands, just like another sick pleasure I shouldn't be experiencing now, yet there's nothing and no one to stop me.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," a whisper. Her whisper.
"Scarlet?" I raise my eyes to her, wondering if my twisted mind has conjured her in the room only to find that she looks much too real. Frame slender and thin, face innocent, dark curls falling around it in a waterfall of wild ringlets. My fingers are itching to trace them, weave them around, tug on that hair as I trail small, butterfly kisses down her exposed neck, sinking into her as she moans my name...
Why is she always there to see my weakness? Why can't she stay away until it's the right time? Will there ever be a time that's right for us?
"I just needed to return this," she says, holding up the cloth in her hands. She approaches towards the bed, placing it there. A gift she is returning.
The fire turning cold, angry tongues are suddenly grazing my insides. "You didn't need to do that," I grit out, rising from the rug.
<
br /> "And that's my cue to leave, I guess," she chuckles, shrugging off my words as if they mean nothing to her.
What does she see in me? Why does it seem it's always the monster and never the man? Why can't she just accept she's mine?
"Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?" she echoes, turning to me, a brow arched in mockery of all that we are to each other.
"Why are you fighting the bond?" I supply.
"The bond?" she laughs. "You mean that measly, pathetic pull?"
Just so, so wrong. Damnation.
"It's not pathetic, Scarlet. It's like nothing I've felt before. I can feel it in my bones, in my head, in my heart... Everywhere," I explain remembering what I've done just a few minutes ago.
Even now, I'm forcing myself to stay in place, not going to her, not letting my hands and lips roam free all over her body.
"Delusional," she mutters, rolling her eyes at me.
I take a step closer to her, risking to let out the beast that's already stirring up inside me, anger turning all reason to mush. "Did you just call me delusional?"
"Didn't mean to say it aloud."
My hands suddenly on her, breath fanning across her skin, my voice is rising an octave with each word that comes out, "Don't you feel it? Don't you?"
No control to stop him, he's been unleashed. He's shaking her, fingers digging holes into her flesh, the hold is not gentle.
"You're hurting me," she says softly. Not a plea but a cold, emotionless statement. Her stormy eyes assessing me with calculation and just a little bit of caution. Wary of the alpha, she never even glimpses the man hiding underneath.
Howling in defeat, the beast is sinking back underneath the skin, a wounded animal that's hiding to prevent more pain. Hands fall to my sides, my feet are retreating from her. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to-"
"It's fine," she clips in. "It's not like I didn't expect it."
It hurts. Her words. Her lack of emotion towards me. No feelings.
"Ah, I see it finally dawned on you," she remarks coldly, looking me straight in the eyes as if she wants me to see her for all which she is.
All I've made her.
"You won. You broke me beyond repair, Alpha. I feel nothing at all. Not the bond, not the mating pull, nothing," she says, laughing at me. "And you know what? I'm glad," she adds like the words pouring out of her are words she always wanted to say but couldn't.
I can only imagine how she did.
Whirling back, I can't watch her hand turning the knob. I want to tell her so much, I want to scream her name until she really hears my plea in it but how can I be that mate when I am an alpha? How can I beg when all I've ever done is demand?
Feet quietly distancing her from me, she's leaving me alone.
Taking the air out with her.
(9) Thunders and Storms
|Scarlet's POV|
Several hours later, with the house clean and my other chores done, I find myself anxious to return the nightgown I've borrowed from him. I sigh as I fold the now clean and dry cloth, then drag myself to the second floor and stop in front of his door.
I never saw him back from his run so I can only presume he's still out there, working off his anger, though I've been busy with my work. I can't delude myself he hasn't somehow slipped past me on his way inside.
He's done that a lot in the past and just because we share a mate bond now doesn't mean I'd suddenly be able to sense his every move. It doesn't work this way. It is a connection between two souls, not a sudden psychic ability you are getting out of the bargain and that connection could be blocked still.
It's different for the mated pairs. Once mated the bond is nearly unbreakable. The feelings are stronger, the pull - undeniable. But in my case, it's just a minor irritation. An itch I want to scratch but, instead, choose to ignore.
I bring my hand up, rapping my knuckles on the thick wood, and wait for permission to come inside. For a few minutes, I just stand there, listening to the silence, then, with a relieved sigh, turn the handle and sneak my way in.
Not even halfway in, my breath hitches at the back of my throat when I notice the sitting next to the bed form, head hunched over his knees.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," I whisper, taking a step back, intent to flee on the spot, but not before he snaps his head in my direction.
"Scarlet?" he whimpers, peering up at me from beneath his thick, dark eyelashes, his green orbs rimmed with red as if he's been crying.
I snort. I won't believe it even if I see it and that's really saying something about my opinion of him. However, I decide not to dwell and just get the hell out as quick as possible.
"I just needed to return this," I explain, holding up the cloth in my hands and walking to his bed to place it there.
He propels up from his seat on the rug and glares at me. "You didn't need to do that," he says angrily, his mood fired up by my small act of consideration toward his bed partners. Of course, he is being his usual.
"You don't need to act offended, Alpha," I point out causing him to purse his lips in a displeased grimace.
"Scarlet," he grits out in warning, palms forming fists on his sides. Staying still.
I know this man like the back of my hand - every crease and wrinkle in his protruding character, what drives him, or at least, what does, where I am concerned, but since the discovery I've been swimming in unfamiliar waters.
This, the fact that he's withholding the urge to hurl those hurtful words at me is something new. Unexpected.
Chuckling, amused by his behavior, "And that's my cue to leave, I guess," I brush it off and scurry for the door.
"Why are you doing this?" he stops me, the barely audible tilt in his voice making his words sound clipped to my ears.
The bond is tightly wrapping around me, choking me with the need to console, to remove the lines off of his face.
Glancing over my shoulder, I discover my assumption to be true. His face is contorted in rage boiling just under the surface. That rage I've seen so many times I've perfected myself in recognizing the signs.
A slight, grim line is stretching his lips, his fists now hidden in his jeans pockets, a dangerous gleam in his eyes with his posture rigid and body tense.
"Doing what?" I question, gripping the door handle for sheer life as familiar fear penetrates through my pores.
I may be his mate but I don't consider it beneath him to hurt me. He's an alpha and alphas do not allow anyone's defiance, not even their mates'.
"Why are you fighting the bond?" he blurts out, shaking to keep control over his beast, over all these primal instincts that alphas struggle with.
I know I should stop here and get a better grip on myself.
I can't.
"The bond?" Erupting into hysterics despite everything inside me screaming to act reasonable, to be cautious with this male, I'm powerless to prevent the words from coming. It's like I've been suddenly freed and it's now pouring out of me. "You mean that measly, pathetic pull?" Hurling them out, every instinct for self-preservation is forgotten.
"It's not pathetic, Scarlet. It's like nothing I've felt before. I can feel it in my bones, in my head, in my heart." - He places a hand on his chest, grimacing as if it hurts there. - "Everywhere," he finishes, gaze traveling lower.
Heat crawling up my face in embarrassment by his implication, I can feel myself flushing bright red before the absurdity of his statement dawns on me. Delusional, that's what he is.
"Did you just call me delusional?" he growls.
"Didn't mean to say it aloud," I mumble, raising my eyes to his. If anything, he's even angrier now, the tension humming off of him.
Crossing the distance between us in a few strides, his hands clasping my shoulders, shaking me as he shouts in my face, "Don't you feel it? Don't you?" His fingers are digging into my flesh, certain to leave marks as a remembrance of him. They burn on my skin, the sensation not entirely unpleasant yet nothing one should expect from a mate.
&nb
sp; "You're hurting me." It's like I can hear that terror inside me. He's never touched me in that way before. He hasn't allowed any of his pack to do that to me. It has always been simple. Clipped orders and harsh words of promises to b fulfilled, collars used to hold me still outside in the cold as I'm being punished for disobeying.
Hands retracting as if he can read my thoughts, "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to-"
"It's fine." A lie I need to believe in as much as I need to convince him. "It's not like I didn't expect it," I add, wary of his movements.
Slowly inhaling, his face is ghostly white. Concerned. Scared for me. An open book.
"Ah, I see it finally dawned on you," I point out. It's true what people say. Eventually, the victim will start taking pleasure in that pain too.
With a heart that's breaking by the perversity of my contempt to see him grasping how hurt I am, I'm whispering, "You won. You broke me beyond repair, Alpha. I feel nothing at all. Not the bond, not the mating pull, nothing."
Words ending in a quiet laughter, I watch what blood has been left draining from his face and leaving a living, breathing shell of my tormentor behind.
His hands fall to his sides. My skin is turning frosty from having been barred from his touch after taking his warmth. He steps away, turning from me. Light shivers are raking over his back, head falling into his hands, he's crying or just pretending to be.
"And you know what? I'm glad." The taste of his misery feels sweet on my tongue yet I can't watch his tears.
I turn back and slip out just before the first sob erupts from inside the quiet room. The door clicks shut behind me.
Descending down the stairs, my steps are followed by a loud crash. I hurt the man but I left the beast in that room.
Reluctant to linger so close to him when he's lost in his mindless violence, I pick up my speed when a body is hurled at me, cutting my haste escape short. I plop down on the step, peering up at the familiar face of the blonde.
"What did you do to him?" Sasha is snarling at me after intercepting me on her way up to comfort her alpha lover.
Alex. Alexandra. And now Sasha. Once a friend and now his whore. So much has changed since he came that I no longer can recognize my pack and my friends.
