Rejection on the Alpha #1

04. Darkling History Untold

(New and edited)
CHAPTER 4: Darkling History Untold

I scowl at Martin, "This pack is like walking into a bloody Game of Thrones season." I spit, grabbing the cape completely, and was about to move towards the stairs when Reina grabbed my arm once more. After the trip we just returned from, Martin decided a few freaking changes were needed. First, my fucking living quarters.

"You won't be with Miranda anymore. You have a room in the west wing." She says to me.

My lips curl, and I rip my arm away once again. I turn back and strut up the stairs, ignoring their burning eyes. I rip open the main door and slam it shut. I hold my stomach as it clenches. I growl lowly as the pain strengthens. I fist my hand, descending carefully down the stairs.

I step towards Miranda's room. She sits there, reading.

She stands in shock, giving me a wide-eyed look. I make certain that I'm still completely covered, "I need to borrow a few pieces of clothing." I murmur.

She nods immediately, "Yes, of course. Are you preparing for breakfast?"

I merely nod as I move toward the bathroom. I had a quick shower, deciding on the leather tights and dark brown shirt, tight as well. When I stepped out of the bathroom, leather boots were situated in Miranda's hands. She blinks and looks at me, "Do you like wearing boots?" She asks me.

I wordlessly reach for them, and she grins and hands them to me. I slide them on.

She looks at me closely as I finish. I clench my jaw tightly, my fists tightening, as she gestures towards the door.

I kick the doors open and strut down the hall, starving and exhausted. A rough hand grabs mine, I rip mine out of his, "Leave me alone." I spit at Martin, who followed me.

My back is slammed against a wall. My eyes widen at what he's done as he towers over me. I struggle against his grip on my waist. I trail my eyes to his.

His jaw ticks, "Stop running from me." He whispers through clenched teeth.

I raise an eyebrow at our position before wringing my knee up and connecting it with the place it'll hurt the most for him. He doesn't grunt or even blink—No, he bows low against me and breathes out a painful gasp before sliding to take a seat on the couch next to us, against the wall.

I sit next to him, "Well, that was disconcerting. You're telling me that a mere knee to that specific part of your anatomy rendered you into this—a barely breathing, winded, and spineless idiot. Martin, I thought you were better than that, or did you just not think I'd certainly hit you there?" I ask him.

He opens one eye and looks at me with a pissed-off expression.

I shrug, before patting his shoulder, "You should have reigned in your wolf and not rip the dungeon down. I would have been able to handle my heat had you not shown strength against such a bloody annoying thing." I say, sitting up and moving to a stand. A hand grabs mine and rips me into his lap.

My nose taps his.

He wraps his arm across my back, curls his hand around my thigh, and pulls me closer so my side is flush with his chest.

I give him a flat look, "You're quite the pervert."

"You're quite the minx." He says to me.

I raise an eyebrow, "I beg to differ."

"I don't." He says.

I trail my eyes to silver irises that stare into my emerald ones with an indecipherable look.