Chapter Seven: Sick

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(Again, holy hotness)


     "Why didn't you tell me you were going to be sick?!" Percyus said, concern lacing his voice as he tucked me into the guest bed he had lent me the night before.

     My head rolled onto the pillow in exhaustion, my eyes still wide and frantic however. I felt a few stray tears leak from my eyes, "I-I'm sorry!"

     I wasn't allowed to be sick. If I got sick I was beaten more and given extra chores, no matter how weak I was. Horrific memories now haunted me from the beatings I got when I was ill. I was scared to be sick.

     "No, don't be sorry." He gave me a warning look, running back to me with a cold cloth in his hand.

     He rested the cold wet cloth on my forehead which felt better in contrast to the fiery heat of my body. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have forced you to eat." 

     I shook my head. "You don't apologize to girl. She doesn't deserve it." I recited, my voice frail.

     He was about to argue, I could tell, but he sighed and shut his mouth. He let his face fall into his hands and he bit his lip decisively. "Why don't you have a name?"

     I was taken aback by his abrupt question but nonetheless answered quickly, "I was never given one. I wasn't allowed such luxuries. You may call me anything you wish."

     "What was a name they called you? Just 'girl'?" He asked, his face scrunched up in what I thought was sadness, but I was most likely confusing it.

     "Slut, whore, bitch, mistake, idiot, dummy, property, nothing, slave, peasant..." I shrugged and shifted uncomfortably, my stomach rolling once more, warning me that I might be sick again.

     When I looked up, I realized my mistake. His eyes were blazing with fury, turned black to indicate his wolf had total control, which meant I was dead meat. I feel hot tears run down my cheeks and I scoot back, pressing my scarred back against the headboard.

     "Mother fucker!" He screamed, grabbing the desk chair at was in the room and slammed it into the wall, breaking it easily.

     I guess I should add that to my list. I didn't know what a mother fucker was, or why he called me it, but he didn't seem to use it like it was a nice word. I took the cloth off of my forehead and clutched it in my hands tightly, my knees tucked to my chest in fear of what he would do to me.

     "I'm gonna kill those son-of-a-bitches!" He shouted, sending his powerful fist through the wall, breaking the beautiful paint job.

     A sob escaped my trembling lips and I immediately pressed my hand to my mouth, knowing my mistake. Sobbing in the presence of the King was considered extremely weak. He wouldn't want a weak mate. He will throw me back into the dungeons and let me rot and die away in there.

     "I'm sorry for not being the mate you wanted." I whispered through glossy eyes and a thick throat.

     He flat out ignored me, his eyes still pitch black. "What was your old packs name?" He growled, his voice deeper since his wolf was in control.

     "I-I don't know." I said disappointingly, seeing his unpleasant reaction before it came.
     "What do you mean you don't know?!" He cried, slamming his hands on the desk.

     "They never told me!" I sobbed, covering my face and head with my arms as he stepped closer, shouting in my face.

     Please don't hit me.

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