Pleasing the Heartless Alpha...

37. If It Was Meant To Be...

Now Damon utters a curse Ive heard plenty of times around Kaden. "What about the spares?"

They share a frown. "There werent any given my Alpha."

"Cazzo," Damon curses, running a hand through his tousled hair. When catching the sight of me silently observing, he began a whole rant in Italian to them. Catching onto his hint, I was about to turn and leave to my seat when my ears perked when hearing something in the distance. Giggling of some sort. Who in their right mind would be giggling in the middle of nowhere?

I flip back once to see Damon's back and face buried in a deep conservation with the two guards, still in sharp Italian and still not meant for my ears. I advance forward, being sure to slip past the noses of the guards from the back car having cigarettes and idling. Walking with the softest part of my feet I slip into the heart of the forest, not bothering to turn back once when following the sound of laughter growing louder and louder to my ears with each step I took in it's direction.

Thank the gods for giving me the sense to wear converses instead of flats or sandals, or else I would've died from the sight of all the spiders I saw in the bushes. I walked and walked, munching on some harmless berries I found growing a bush containing dozens while trying to hop from rock and rock. My feet hadn't landed from the fallen bark I had done crossing when I felt a hand twirl me around. I went fumbingly face first into a hard chest, all my remaining berries squashed on the ground. "Should, I even ask what made you think you could slip away?"

I meet his unwavering pits of blackness with mine, cold amusement written over his face. "Depends," My hand was draped over his shoulder, with his hand on my waist holding me in place firmly. It didn't seem right. Him in his expensive dark trousers, matching vest and freshly white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his veins streaking down his forearms, and then me in my everyday worn out sweater. Why must it always be me the one underdressed? "Do you think Ill tell you honestly since you, yourself don't have a reputation of speaking the truth?"

Damon flinched. He seemed taken back by the reply but it didn't lower his guard, or mouth from a biting retort. "You were inches away from being kidnapped and yet you have such an ungrateful sense of judgement, it surprises me how werent you kidnapped before."

"Sorry to ruin your parade. I wont be kidnapped anytime soon and also, if I ever do, Ill be sure to fight on my own and come back only after kicking their asses straight to the gates of hell." I push off him, nearly scrapping some skin of my ankle on a bush of thorns behind.

I was about to being my journey straight when a hand clashed over my wrist. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Away from you obviously," I grumble aloud enough for him to wear without wolf hearing. Taking slower strides forward, I meet a thickly bristled hedge. Not just any wild hedge, for this one I observed had been trimmed and oddly well taken care off to be any wild hedge. Damon had also noticed my observation, appearing at my side with his keen eyes studying every possible corner.

I tried pushing aside the loose stands, burying my hands deeper and deeper I order to create a looser and looser opening just enough for a body, or my own body to slip by. Shoving my shoulder in first, the rest of my body seemed to be sucked in by some mysterious force. Landing on my hands and knees atop earthen floor, the strike of plummeting body on my back -enough for impact to crack if I were a human, made me dive face first in to the grass. "Ouch! You-"

Damon's hair was rustled over his face covered with the fresh morning dew. I slap his arm in a very lousy effort, making his scowl ridden face land on mine. He was about to give a retort when another voice crossed his words. "Ahem."