Willow's POV
Warmth surrounded my body, coddling me like a baby in a cradle and holding me in a way that only a mother would. Flashes of her face, her unrecognizable face played through my mind.
Her true face wasn't there. But I could see it. I could see beneath the sheet of blankness, like I was staring at an old friend. I knew her so, so well.
The faceless woman stroked my own face, her smile taking up the existence of her face. There was an overload of wholesomeness. She was kind, but she was there one moment then gone the next then there again. A stranger that I swore I knew.
Her soft eyes warmed my soul.
I was so soothed.
So unaware.
Until she was gone.
Until there was nothing but a canopy above my heavy eyes.
A deep purple canopy. Such a noble color. So beautiful, so unique. It brought peace into my frazzled mind, lulling my tired body back to the woman who I'd only just met.
It filled me with relaxation. Until it didn't.
The momentary heaviness to my eyeballs disappeared the instant that my memories resurfaced. I was running for my life from wolves attacking my adoptive pack. Then I hit something. I hit something and my entire body shattered.
How was the pain so horrible? Why did it now seem so distant?
It was so surreal that I almost believed it to be a dream, that is until a heavy ache confirmed the truth. All of it was real, none of it was fake.
The disorientation was wiped from me like fog from a bathroom mirror.
I went to sit up, perhaps a bit faster than I should've. I was met with the shattering reality that made me nearly throw up. My ribs were on fire, hell everything was. I gasped as I tried to shift around, only intensifying the feelings of discomfort. What once seemed so distant, had bull dozed into me.
I bit my lip to silence my cries, and I squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could. For a long moment, I had to breathe. I had to do so to prevent myself from blacking out. I was so close to doing so.
Breathe in for four seconds.
Breathe out for five seconds.
Repeat.
I did this several times, until I was able to manage my pain without losing myself to it. I opened my eyes, the scene around me once again coming into play.
Where was I?
I wasn't anywhere familiar. The room, the bed, even the atmosphere was too nice to be my old pack. And even if it was, they wouldn't ever let me step foot in such a nice place. I was the equivalent of pond scum back home. In fact, the pond scum might've been treated better than I was.
And the bed I was in, it was so comfortable. So deep and so plush. It was the kind of bed that swallowed me whole. That thought alone had me flinging myself from the bed against my better judgement.
More waves of pain hit me as my body hit the polished wood beneath me. I stifled another cry, my head momentarily light as I briefly saw stars. The morbid agony had me on the verge of blacking out, I just knew it. And yet that didn't deter me from forcing myself to my feet.
Fighting against every ounce of discomfort I was feeling, I moved through the large, Victorian styled room and towards the door. My body was on fire with each painstaking step, almost as if I was stepping on glass. The pain was fighting against me, and I was fighting against it.
I kept myself moving, carried by the crippling thought that this room wasn't mine. It wasn't familiar and I had no clue where I was. Surrounded by scents that I didn't recognize, yet I recognized far too well.
They were the same scents that blanketed the pack lands during the attack.
There were wolves all around me.
I had to get out, and I had to escape. I was in danger with every passing second.
Hobbling, staggering, limping to get to the door.
I was almost there, hesitating as a thick liquid trickled down my leg. I glanced down absentmindedly, half-expecting to see blood. I knew I would be wounded. I knew that one of the bones I had broken had pierced through the skin of my leg.
Yet despite my expectancy of a wound, I was taken back by the severity of it.
A long, deep, freshly stitched wound had now burst apart beneath my knee. Blood gushed from it, pooling on top of the floor. It sunk deeper into the floor, staining its brown hues crimson red. My wound was serious, so much more serious than I thought it was.
At the rate that I was bleeding, it was surprising that I wasn't passed out on the floor already. Guess my body was holding on to whatever fight was fueling it.
Silencing any and all thoughts regarding my wound, I focused on the door ahead of me. I was almost there, so close. Only a few inches away. I could just reach out and grab it.
I reached my hand out, groaning as I was forced to bear weight on my leg. It burned and burned and burned.
I shook it away. My hand grasped the door knob and I went to open the door. But as I turned the knob, the door was pushed towards me. My unsuspecting, damaged body was sent tumbling towards the unforgiving floor behind me.
This time as my body hit the ground, it was enough to keep me there.
Getting up by myself was impossible, not as the blood beneath me surrounded my body in puddles. It stuck to my skin like syrup. I was hurting everywhere. There was a cry that slipped from my lips and a tear that dropped from my eye as I looked towards the person responsible.
Brown, faintly aloof eyes met mine. A curse left his lips in a whisper.
An unfamiliar man approached me, his movements were that of a machine . He was very soldier-like, very strong, maybe a little too strong as his tanned hands slipped underneath my armpits and plucked me off the ground.
It was easy for the man to lift me, the muscles on his tatted biceps flexing as he hoisted me up like a child. Despite his aggressive demeanor, he seemed to take care as he guided me back towards the bed.
But even then, every slight movement shot rays of pain through me. I hadn't realized how viciously I grasped him, not until my body was back on the bed and my claws were pierced through his skin.
And he seemed annoyed, not physically hurt, but definitely inconvenienced.
I retracted my claws, feeling the heat flood my cheeks as I noticed little trickles of blood against his skin.
He didn't say anything as he spared a glance at his arms, then at the bloodied floor, and then at me.
Then he spoke.
"Do you have any idea how long it took to stitch that up?"
He motioned towards my torn open, jagged laceration.
Instantly, I was taken back. He was so rude and so uninviting, yet at the same time he was inviting. Not the way he was behaving, but the persona radiating from him was inviting. I could sense his irritation towards me. Even though it made me uncomfortable and embarrassed, I couldn't help but feel drawn to him.
Why?
Why was I drawn to such a rude man? Surely it had nothing to do with his refined physical appearance.
He stepped away from me, tugging at the dark, wavy locks sprouting from his head. He was clearly frustrated and I was well beyond flustered. Hell, I was so flustered that the pain I was feeling had subsided significantly.
The man was tall and muscular and he...He smelled good.
So good.
No, not even just good. He smelled like a dream. Like a mix between bourbon and cinnamon and Earth. My senses were overwhelmed. My wolf, she was purring. She was wide awake and persistent.
It was as if the extreme bodily harm I had just suffered was a faded memory. My bleeding leg begged to differ.
My nagging thoughts raced to fill the pockets of silence that spread around us.
He was handsome. Despite him looking to be several years older than myself, I found him to be nothing short of attractive. I was encapsulated by him. In all my twenty years of life, no one had ever caught my attention. Not in the way he was.
The man was delectable.
And then it hit me.
The man in front of me was my mate.
A gasp escaped from my mouth as the man continued to just stare at me. While I was shocked and bewildered, he was unamused and standoffish.
"I'm guessing you figured it out." He stated rather than questioned.
But I couldn't respond. My mouth had gone dry and my mind had gone blank and I suddenly felt as useful as a bag of dull rocks.
Here I was in front of the man whom I was to be mated with, and he was rude. Sure, he was handsome. But his stand-offish personality made it hard for me to actually find him likable. I was stunned, both by finding my mate and finding out that he was an asshole.
Of course he was.
There were so many thoughts going on inside of my head, so many questions. And I wanted to blurt each and every one of them out. I wanted answers. But my silence left an opening for him to speak yet again.
"Well since you're not going to talk, I'll talk," He said, "My name is Alpha Cyrus Drenner-"
"Alpha?" I blurted out before he could continue.
My interruption annoyed him.
"That's what I said," He responded bluntly, "I'm sure you smacked your head pretty hard yesterday but-"
I cut him off again.
"Wait, was that you that I ran into?"
He pursed his pink lips tightly, clearly unhappy that I had cut him off again. But he still nodded, he nodded and he went to speak again but I beat him to it.
"Your pack. You ordered them to attack mine, you killed-"
This time Cyrus cut me off.
"I killed members of your pack. The children and elders were left unharmed. Some of them may have also escaped but the majority of them are dead. You are alive because of my mercy."
His mercy?
Anger lit up my entire body within seconds.
"What fucking mercy?" I hissed, ignoring the ache in my body as I brought myself face to face with him. My demeanor challenged him.
He was a tall man, I had noticed that before. But I was an angry woman, and at 5'9, I was a taller woman at that. While he may have had several inches on me, all of the spite and realization and pain boosted me up a few inches.
I would stand chest to chest with him and I wouldn't bat an eye.
I did just that. With my face so close to his, his breath was hot against my forehead. I could see the tempted gleam inside of his light brown eyes. He was tempted to kill me, I was sure of it. His annoyance had bristled into rage and he wasn't hiding it.
As if our faces weren't already close enough, he moved closer. He was threatening me, there was no doubt about that.
"Challenging your mate?" His question was a taunt, "You're not making a very great first impression."
His lips were so close to mine. I could see every scar and indent on his face. I could see every single hair on his dark brown brows. This was the closest I had ever been to anyone.
Yet I wanted to slap him.
And kiss him. But mostly slap him.
But then a thought poked at my brain, a thought that had me backing down from whatever fight was about to ensue. I sat down again, staring up at him through faux innocent eyes. He narrowed his own in suspicion. And then I glanced down in an attempt at appearing submissive.
That was so abnormal for me.
But my plan, my scheme...Getting on his good side would be a must, and challenging him would only put me closer to my own grave.
I needed to get on his good side so that I could infiltrate his pack.
And his pack would love me, I would make sure of it.
And so would he.
When he did and when they did, I'd make my move.
I'd steal his pack.
I'd take his land and his title and everything he could ever dream of.
I'd be the best damn pack thief the world would ever know.