Chasing Freedom

IV

Summary: angst. With more to follow.

Mira woke slowly, immediately aware she was on unfamiliar grounds. Whatever she lay on was softer, nothing like she was used to. No twigs dug into her skin, try as she might to level the ground beneath her. And she was warm, so warm it was almost disconcerting. Even sleeping as close as she could to a fire did nothing to ward off the night chill.

The last thing she remembered was Myles. Myles, an Alpha-to-be, who she snapped at, right before she fell apart. After that, things were hazy. Someone picked her up. Someone carried her.

To a jail cell, albeit a comfortable one, where she was awaiting her punishment for the disrespect? Would her rashness destroyed the one chance she had at finding safety?

As she came to, Mira became aware of the soft voices. Two: male and female. Myles, was one of them. It stood to reason he would be, given the offence was against him. It was his right to decide the consequence. If she begged, would he spare her life? When the alternative was being alone and vulnerable again, was it even worth it? Death would be easier.

I failed you, daddy, she thought. I'm sorry.

Drawing in a quiet breath of courage, she opened her eyes, bracing for what she would see: stone walls; the bars of her cell; a dark hall. It turned out to be nothing of the sort. Her prison... was beautiful, filled with light. Over-sized sliding doors opened onto a patio, lines of trees in the distance. The walls were a pastel green, echoing the outlook beyond. Frames dotted along the walls, each one displaying different aspects of a mountain. A wooden dresser was to her left. The bed—the one she lay on—was four-poster, made of the same material. The sheets were silk and soft to touch.

Why had they left her here? Like she was some kind of... guest, deserving of such luxury? To lull her into a false sense of security?

"Males," came that female voice again, her tone scolding.

Mira focused in the direction it came from. Both of them were by the far wall, facing a floor length mirror. Myles was seated on a stool, while the female stood over him. Her frame was small, no taller than Mira herself, but her presence was intimidating. She scowled, eyebrows drawn taut. She was dressed in white scrubs, short hair braided over her shoulder.

"I'll never understand you. Beating each other bloody for sport. Honestly."

She had something in her hand, and was rubbing it across Myles' chest. His bare chest. The line of his shoulders and arms were tight muscle. His abdomen was ribbed, flexing with each breath he took. Bite marks covered him, an especially nasty one on his neck. It looked as though he'd been mauled in a fight he'd barely survived. In the mirror she could see the intricate tattoo that spanned most of his shoulders: a black bear in motion, surrounded by lush, green forest; its jaws open, baring sharp teeth. Below, curving down his back were paw prints. His pants cut her sight off from waist down, but if she had to guess, she'd say they continued further down his thigh.

Her fear grew the longer she'd stared. In the wild, bears were merciless. If that was his animal form, his instincts would be just as savage.

"I outrank you, Kiva."

Kiva, met his gaze with no fear apparent. "And I'm the one making sure your wounds heal properly. Your point?"

To her amazement, he didn't react with violence. Instead, his gaze flitted to the left, towards outside. There was no submission in the gesture. Yet, he conceded all the same. "Nothing," came the weak mutter.