~•~
Grumbled muttering reignites my mind with the rest of the world, my reviving thoughts unable to piece together my current situation. My body floats as I inhale the intoxicating scent of the nearby alpha. My senses are overwhelmed in a familiar way, it happens every time he is around. Before I even try to fight it, my body reacts to it in a way I only imagine is the mate bond forcing me to him.
I exhale as a way to retake my body from the bond, a croaked sound escapes my painfully dry lips as I do. It noticeably brings everyone's attention to my stirring consciousness, the Alpha stepping heavily towards my waking body.
"What's wrong with you?", I'm instantly bombarded with criticism from his gruff, irritated voice. The alpha stands over me fiercely, visibly angry at my actions. Again, I'm taken aback by his actions. His words spill in unprofessionalism, unlike how I ever imagined an alpha to perform. "she didn't mean it, it was just an accident," somebody from behind picks up, who I soon recognize as Alina.
"You can leave now, Alina. I have issues that needs discussing." Alina is dismissed, to which she replies, "yes, Alpha," then leaves. Being alone with Alpha Alaric makes me nervous, turning my head opposite the direction he stands in. I wish Alina could stay, I would be so much more comfortable in his presence if she were here. Not that I trust either of them, but Alina is the nicest a person has ever been to me.
"Do I constantly have to keep my eye on you? Were you trying to kill yourself?" His speech makes me wince at how harsh it is. "I mean, you get here mere days ago and already dove off a balcony." He's unrelenting. His anger takes another reform, as he gets so close to me, yelling in my face as he grabs me and forces me towards him, "look at me!"
I do nothing. He sets me down gently, perhaps remembering through his frustration that I can't see him. This is the peak of his anger, which is relieving to my mind. Despite his outbursts being nothing less than terrifying, at least he didn't do anything worse. Even if I wanted to, I can't look into his eyes, I can't perceive him.
"Why did I even take you here?" He questions, more to himself than to me. It becomes more and more evident that he wants nothing to do with me. I want to know the answer to that as well, home seeming like a vacation compared to what living here is like. I don't want to be here, and he does not want me here. Why the hell am I here.
"I only wanted-" I stutter over all of my words, as normal, "to hear the gardener singing" more stumbling, an anxiety driven condition. I forcing out a guttural sigh of frustration, unable to cleanly layout a sentence. I hear a whine caught at the back of my head, a whimper of desperation that makes me sit up in a strike of fear. I catch it from the back of my mind, realizing I'm the only one that heard the whines. I fall back down in a plop as an excruciating pain throbs on my side. A pain I've felt before, though this time I did it to myself.
I feel up my shirt to the side of my stomach, where a trickle of warm liquid forms. This time, it is me who yelps in pain as I touch the wound. I lift my shirt slightly, just enough to reveal the already stitched injury. As much as it hurts to touch, I run my fingers up the stitches with some already crusty, dried blood. Sitting up caused more blood to spill, likely staining the bed under me and the clothes attached to me.
I still feel the Alpha's powerful presence over me, probing his eyes along my injured body. He says nothing and no longer seems angry. He seems as bipolar as my mother, if not more.
"Allow me," he says in an undertone, almost annoyed. He takes a wet cloth in his hand, wringing it. I quickly move my own hand to cover the wound, wanting no more closeness than what already is. His hamd clenching the wet cloth drops to his side, watching me force away from him.
He feel his probing eyes on me, probably ones squinted of annoyance. I don't want him tending to me, I don't need anybody tending to me. I've healed many injuries on my own, with no aid at all. I've had to.
After a few minutes, I hear him moving once more. He again dips and wrings the cloth of cold water, simply stating, "there's another one here." He steps to my side in one motion, using his open hand to pull my shirt back down, over my first wound and my hand covering it. I realize he did this for modesty, as the second wound is on my upper thigh of the same side.
He tamely wiped the blood with his one free hand, the rag quickly absorbing most of it. I squirm from the pain of the coldness making contact with my wound, the pain more prominent than ever.
I grip the blanket that only barely covers my bare legs, only thing exposed is the area on my thigh. I grimace, groaning in pain as he rubs the wet cloth too hard against the stitches. My whole body tenses at the agonizing pain, my hand squeezing hard.
His right hand glides from the frame, over my skin, to find a stationary place on my lower stomach. His left hand scrubs lighter and slower. The lack of harshness and the feeling of skin to skin contact makes my body feel light and flushed. The pain subsides and tingles flutter through my body, pulsing through the spot of impaction, the place where his hand meets my skin.
I'm beginning to believe the mate bond is real, nothing else in my mind explaining away the elated feeling when he touches me, as if I were high. If I could force it away, I would. I don't want to feel good around him, I don't want to be around him at all. I rather feel the pain of my actions than have him this close to my vulnerable, injured body.
"This one here is worse," he lets go of the cloth, tracing around the wound on my thigh, as to let me know which one he is talking about. This also let me know about the size of the gash on my leg, though I could've found it out myself. I don't appreciate his hands still being on me, but his touch so warm that I don't dare push him away now.
He moves, standing straight once again. I hear his clothes flatten with his stance, a wave of chills making its way through my body, the warm shocks leaving with him. "Thank y-" I go to speak for the first time in awhile, right as somebody walks in the door. "The Luna wants to see you, Alpha." A man presents the information, captivating both Alaric and I. Luna? The Sanguine pack has a Luna? My mind races with possibilities, not one of them making any sort of sense. My mind has apparently already accepted him as my mate, which shocks me more to hear he is already spoken for by another wolf.
"Tell the Luna I'm on the way, Owen." Owen, the one who just entered, has left again. I don't finish thanking the Alpha, I didn't want to in the first place. I didn't need his help. Now that distance has been put between us, his scent not as potent and his touch not pulsing through me, my mind begins occupying more negative feelings for the Alpha.
He saunters away, leaving to take care of his alpha duties. He stops infront of the door, though I still feel his gaze on the side of my face. He inches the door open, my ears hearing it sway slowly open, his eyes unwaving on me the entire time. He says one more thing before he takes off, "You will be moved closer to my quarters. . ." He states, continuing, "I will be keeping a closer eye on you."
Then he was gone.
Alina arrives moments later with fresh clothes and food. I changed first, into a comfortable new outfit, with the help of Alina. I learned fast that it's difficult to move with gashes against my leg and stomach. I wonder what I landed on to have injuries such as these.
We ate together, though I was unable to finish my meal. Alina took our plates and placed them aside, asking me if I want to go back to the packhouse, to my new room. She must be employed by the alpha himself, to help me.
I agree, and we leave the healer den. Just as we're outside, I stop to breathe in the fresh air. It has a crisp scent to it, I can tell it's later in the day the sun is low in the sky. "I haven't been outside since my packs Moon festival." I guess this shocks her, so we stay outside a while longer. As we walk side by side, her hand on my forearm, she describes the area to me. Finally, we reach the alphas estate, to which she describes in whole detail.
"The estate is an off-white, beige colour, with giant double doors centred above a luxurious front step. Shrubs placed strategically on either side, kept nice by the gardener. In spring, giant blooms of purple wisteria spread invasively across the front of the mansion, making it look absolutely mystifying." I plan in my head what it would be like, imagine how it feels, rather than how it looks. In the spring, I can imagine the graze of ferns across my feet and ankles as I walk through the field. I imagine the spectacular scent of the abundance of wisteria, and the warmth of the brass door handle from the sun's heat. And in my head, it's perfect.
We reach the estate, the wintry breeze adding a soreness to my nose and ears. She brings me in the supposedly voluptuous double doors, into the lobby. It smells of that breathtaking, bitter scent. He seems to be everywhere. Alina holds my arm and takes me up the stairs, down a hallway to the right. At the beginning of the hallway is a door to my room, which is quite similar to my room prior. Apparently, the Alpha's quarters are down this hall I have been relocated to.
We sit on my new mattress, not saying much, but just existing in each other's presence.
~•~
Word Count: 1816