Alpha Female | COMPLETED

28| Sorry

-:Cecelia's PoV:-

I opened my eyes feeling extremely sore and groggy. My eyelids felt heavy despite the fact that I'd just woken up. The lights were too bright so I just winced and turned over. I heard the sound of footsteps and then a button being switched off. Judging by the scent the room was mine and with me right then was Ashton.

Ashton.

Fuck.

My hand flew to my neck and my eyes snapped open. Intense sparks tingled over the healed wound making me shiver. The wound that would leave a permanent scar.

Ashton's mark on me.

Serafine yipped happily, talking incoherently. That wolf was drunk. Or high. Or both.

"I'm sorry about that," I heard him mumble. I turned to him and let out a gasp.

"What happened to you?" I asked, bewildered.

"I fell," he dismissed.

"Yeah, I know. The question is, whose fist did you fall into?"

"Julian and your brother's," he grumbled. "Don't worry, I deserved it."

I gaped. The boy had a black eye and at his temple there was dried blood.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

Oh, right. That.

"Never mind," I sighed. It was bound to happen soon. I just wished that it had happened on our terms than happen as a product of an impulsive decision of Xavier's. At least our wolves wouldn't bug us for a while. And if that black eye was anything to go by, he'd obviously paid the price. I made a mental note to thank Julian and Aaron when I saw them next.

Staying mad at Ashton and throwing a tantrum was not going to reverse the mark. Not to mention, the after-effects of the mark included a strengthened mate bond and my inability to be cross with him for at least a few hours. My body was flooded with oxytocin. There was nothing I could do about it.

"What?" He asked, his eyebrows scrunched up adorably. I chuckled.

"I said, never mind," I told him. His expression morphed into one of relief. I laughed. He had expected me to give him quite a lot of crap, hadn't he?

"I'm forgiven?" He asked incredulously.

"Sort of," I shrugged. "I'm kind of incapable of being mad at you at the moment," I told him sweetly. "A mate's mark does that to you. Don't worry, give me a few hours, I'll deliver when it wears off. I'm almost a hundred percent sure."

"Don't bother," he said quickly. "This is just fine."

We laughed in sync.

"Why am I in my bed like an incapacitated person?" I asked him. "Last I remember we were still in the forest."

"Umm, yeah, you sort of passed out when I marked you," he filled me in.

"What? Damn, that would explain why I don't remember the feeling of being marked," I remarked sadly. I hated that I didn't remember the feeling of being marked. They used to say it was one of the most beautiful feelings. The best. Unforgettable. And here I didn't even remember it to be (un)able to forget it.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied quietly.

"What's wrong?" He pressed.

"I don't remember how it felt to be marked. I passed out before that," I admitted. He hugged me. When he brushed a hand across my cheek gently, it felt wet and I realized that I was crying. I buried my head into his chest, forcing my eyes to stop watering.