The King's Prey (Unedited Edition)

Chapter 20 : Words Left Unsaid

Oscitancy • [ah-sin-tan-see]
Yawning; being drowsy or inattentive.

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I spend the entire ride to Samuel's house repeating what he had said in my head, trying to pick apart every meaning and emotion behind his words. But all I can make out is one big gaping hole in the middle of everything.

The drive is awkward enough after the conversation we just had and I'm surprised that I wasn't sedated before we left—or more that Samuel is allowing me to take in the entirety of his pack for the first time.

I nearly gawk at the sight of it—at the size of it and its civility. The utter fact that it's nothing that I expected leaves me in shock. We pass by shops and homes and buildings of all sorts. I even catch a few people—his kind—walking along the streets, enjoying their evenings. They look normal and at peace and genuinely happy—several things that I struggled to see in Mylithia.

I don't ask about his pack as I only stare in awe from what my eyes take in. Even in the dead of winter, the snow compliments the architecture. From what I can make out, this place could go on for miles until you ever reach the edge of Phantomridge's territory. If those woods are such a prominent part of their lands then who knows how large they are. When we travel more into a wooded area though, my thoughts begin to travel elsewhere.

Xander—Samuel's driver—has been silent the entire ride. I was briefly introduced to him prior to us leaving the hospital. His stone-cold demeanor doesn't reveal much about him. The only pieces I collect is the way his onyx hair starkly contrasts to the snowy abyss that surrounds us and how equally built his body is to Samuel's. Other than that, he's a sealed book of mysteries.

It doesn't bother me, I've met plenty of people who prefer to be unreadable. What does worries me though is the amount of secrecy that they're able to hold. But I'm sure Xander is more concerned with concentrating on his job over revealing his emotions to anyone.

He doesn't seem to mind that I'm human either, which I can't tell if that's a reflection of his closed-off personality or just merely because he was told to be unbothered by it—the fact that we aren't alike. It makes it easier for me though; one less person I have to worry about wanting to tear me limb from limb.

It's not until we're pulling into Samuel's long driveway that I find myself shaken from my thoughts as the car idles. Xander stays in the vehicle as Samuel gets his things from the trunk and helps to carry me into the house. Against his clean body, I feel as though I smell like a wet dog. How ironic.

Even with the heat rising from my body at the closeness of him, it still doesn't make up for the rattling winter chill that seeps through my minimal clothing. I glance back once to see Xander drive down the road as the headlights of the car fade out of view beyond the dark trees that surround the house—that surround us.

Seclusion. Everything—now that I realize it—is so damn seclusive about Samuel. He's not completely closed off like Xander is, no. Samuel is exclusive—he only lets those he wants to into his life and under his skin. And from what I've made out about him, there's not a lot of people on that list.

I'm carried up those all too familiar elegant stairs and into the adjoining bathroom of my room. It's as if he knows I desperately want a bath or that I reek so much that there's just no question about it.

Samuel sets me down on the edge of the tub and turns the faucet on to begin filling the bath. I watch as he gets a fresh towel from the closet and sets it beside me.

"Make sure you keep your leg dry. You can use a damp cloth to clean it but don't submerge it," he says.

I nod in acknowledgment. He stands there for a moment waiting for me to say if I need anything else. But it's as if the tension from the hospital carried itself all the way here and neither of us wants to admit to the aftermath of it.