The Exiled Alpha | ✓

06 | Battle Of The Scents

Dedicated to all the people who have been asking for updates <3

-

My heartbeat pounds in my ears as the bedroom door clicks shut behind us. This stranger has an iron grip on me, not to mention an aggressiveness that could terrify anyone.

I want so badly to feel safe in my mate's arms— to let myself relax against his warm chest. But I can't. Anxiety only grips me tighter as he carries me towards the bed. The sheets rustle quietly as he sits me down on the edge and begins pulling off my jacket. My heartbeat pulses in my throat as the panic begins setting in.

Once the jacket is off he tosses it onto the floor, almost in a disgusted manner. He pauses for a minute after that, raising his nose as if to sniff the air. I take this opportunity to squirm further onto the bed, and further away from him. I hug myself tightly and pull my knees halfway to my chest. Suddenly the white T-shirt that I'm left with feels much too thin for comfort.

I swallow nervously, watching as he walks over to an attached room and turns the light on, revealing a bathroom. My skin prickles as I watch, the saliva cold in my mouth.

What's he going to do?

In one swift motion he raises his arms over his head, peeling off his shirt. My eyes feel ready to bug out of my head.

I did not sign up for this.

The light behind him illuminates his figure, creating a sublime, muscular silhouette made of rigid lines and defined curves. I can only faintly see the center of his outline, but it's enough to tell that his abdomen is no less apparent.

Striding towards me, his steps are slow and confident. He stops in front of the bed, looking down on me with intent, dark eyes. I lean back as he reaches forward, but I don't lean far enough. His fingers touch under my chin, igniting the area with a tingling feel as he gingerly pushes my jaw closed.

Heat rushes to my cheeks when I realize my mouth had been open. Was it that obvious?

My eyes flick to his uncertainly. What happens now? Because there's no way in hell that I'm letting these clothes leave my body.

"Wash his scent off," he orders, his voice like steel. There's no denying that it's a command, not a polite suggestion.

He then drops his T-shirt carelessly into my lap. His voice is cold as he instructs me. Begrudging even.

"Then put this on."

With that, he lets his gaze linger for a few seconds. Then, he turns and strides out of the room, closing the door behind him with a loud click to disrupt the nerve wracking silence.

I scrunch my face up in both discontent and confusion.

He wants Nathan's smell off of me. That's the only conclusion I can come to, and a likely one considering his earlier disgruntlement with the scent. Being treated as a doll to be dressed up is irritating. But in this case, I don't want Nathan's scent on me either.

Cautiously, I slide off the bed, watching the door like a hawk. I half expect him to burst through it at any minute, spewing more demands.

With shirt clenched tightly in my hand, I pad into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and making a point to lock it.

Mate or not, my privacy is my own.

The searing water is uncomfortable, drumming against my back, between my shoulder blades. My skin is burning to the point that I think it may peel off.

I've always preferred the cold. And I'd never choose a hot shower over a moderately room temperature or even a slightly cold one. But I need to feel the pain. I need to have the distraction it provides. Almost like it's a pause button.