The Unforgiving Moon

32.

"Care to enlighten me on what the fuck that was all about?"

My Alpha wasted no time as his chilling, cold voice sounded from behind me. I didn't dare turn around to look at him. Though my mind had returned, my hands hadn't yet stopped shaking and I realized—what the fuck had I done?

I should never have come here, not at this time of night and not in this state, I shouldn't have bothered him because now I put myself in so much shit with no escape, no way out, only through.

"Well?" he insisted, and I heard his chair scrape back.

Chilling footsteps sounded louder and louder—even though I counted only six—before he appeared in front of me, his silver eyes filled with fury, his lips twisted in a stern line, nearly a scowl.

He crossed his arms over his chest, they seemed to regrow to their past size more and more every day, and from the edges of his shirt, I saw pink stripes appearing, remaining scars of what had happened to him.

His nightwear was more loose than his daily clothes because he never showed this much of his vulnerabilities during the day. 

"Are you going to keep staring and wasting my time, young wolf, or are you going to answer my question?" 

He perched over me, both hands now resting on either armrest of my chair as he hung over me, his scent sweeping over me now that he was so close and I wanted to shrink, to reduce myself, as my bones suddenly chilled to their very core.

"I'm sorry," I muttered.

"I don't want an apology, I want an explanation."

"I-" I started, but I didn't know what to say—or how to say it.

A small growl escaped from Aven's throat and it made me shudder. "You better start talking, young wolf, because all I know right now is that you killed one of my pack members and that's not a very good look."

I pulled my eyes from the ground to match his and straightened my back. He didn't flinch backward at my sudden movement, and my slight forward movement nearly made our noses touch and I felt so incredibly small in his presence, and I wanted to run away and escape his wrath. 

"I killed a wolf tonight," I said, and quickly clarified, "By accident. He tried to force himself on me and... And then he was dead."

"I figured as much," he said.

One of my brows raised involuntarily, and I hoped and hoped he wouldn't see it as a sign of defiance, questioning or anything bad. 

"You tried scratching my eyes out when I so much as pointed at you," he clarified. "That part wasn't hard to figure out. Also not the part of the story I am interested in, young wolf." An undertone of warning sired his words, dangerously tapping into my nerves with every sound.

"I killed two wolves before as well," I spoke, my voice even smaller than what I felt like. But he heard me clearly and analyzed every word I said. I felt like I was on trial—and the judge wasn't planning on ruling in my favor. "When Lotta and I came for you, two guards caught us in the tunnels. They dropped dead, and Lotta swears it wasn't her. And it couldn't have been you, because..." 

I bit on my lower lip until I drew blood because I hated that I had reminded him of that day, of his near-death experience, of the horrors he had endured. 

But Aven didn't flinch at the mention of it, his breath didn't hitch and his heart didn't even falter or skip a beat. He merely narrowed his eyes, and wordlessly urged me to continue.

"I didn't mean to kill anyone," I continued, "And I didn't even realize it was me who had done it until tonight."

"What are you saying, young wolf?" Aven inquired, but his hesitant tone told me he already knew. He knew what I was saying, he understood the hidden meaning perfectly, yet he wanted to hear me say the words, to make it real for the both of us.