Night Alpha

7 - Cry Cold

He doesn't turn, not once. I try to be as quick as possible under the shower, always an eye on him. I dress as soon as I'm done, sweats and a grey t-shirt. It's a bit wide on me, but covers enough anyway. He doesn't turn. I inspect my face in the mirror, pat my hair and head for injuries but he really did heal me.

I stretch my arms and back extending limbs. It lessens the tension. I rummage through the cabinet by the sink, find a spare toothbrush still wrapped in plastic. I brush quickly, the mirror has fogged up a bit, I use my other hand to wipe it. When I'm done, I ignore the toothbrush in a glass on the sink, leave mine on the porcelain instead.

Tired and frustrated, I open the door, hoping to find somewhere to sleep, preferably not with him. Most definitely not with him. He catches himself from falling by gripping the threshold. I get a look at his phone, clutched tight. He didn't hear me coming. I see a conversion in wolf, with lots of emojis, they are not his.

No his answer even in wolf are short, if the number of characters indicates anything. When I look at him, filling the way with his body, his head is up, neck craned to meet my eyes, eyes wides like a deer in headlights. I catch it in the corner of my eyes, his finger pressing the lock button of his phone. I can't read it anyway.

I try to stay emotionless, aside from furrowing my brows when he doesn't move. I raise my leg and step above him, not once leaving his eye before I made it out of the bathroom. He body curls even more on himself, before he stands up as well, a step behind. His body like an open flamme behind me.

The lights are turned on in the bedroom, revealing the expensive wood floor and wallpaper. The bed is a good size, enough to fit us both even with our heights, I take a moment to admire the place. Rich furniture and fresh decoration. Far from what humans have been reduced to. I wonder if the deal went through.

I head for the last door, opposite of the bathroom, filled with curiosity. He lets me, simply follows like a second shadow. Shady shade. The door is heavy like the others, but reveals a study. Walls lined with book shelves, a desk with papers on it. I try, control myself when I see a map fixed on in wall. I barely let my eyes pass by, not to seem too suspicious.

Fancy chairs and a sofa make up for a small salon, expensive carpet heaven for my feet. It's soft and rich, I already see myself take a nap on it.

Fuck, I want to look at it. That could be the greatest tool to get out. Which way is Detroit? I look at the desk instead. I let my fingers take a few papers, language puzzling, but writing elegant.

« So, what now? » my voice is less steady than I hoped. I press my fingers to the paper to stop their tremble.

He merely shrugs his shoulders, eyes on my feet. There's a quiet look on in face, tired and solemn. With the lights on I can see his face better. Strong jaw covered by a light stubble, fluffy hair dark hair. High cheeks and strong nose. He reminds of those Greek warriors.

He seems nervous as I study his face, crosses and uncrosses his arms, dances on his feet. His mouth open a little, but nothing comes out. I think he's as frustrated as I am that he can't talk. His English is limited anyway. I look away to walk to the sofa of the study.

It's not long enough to accommodate my height but it's large enough when I bend my legs. I pat the fabric, soft and plushy, bend my arm behind my head, try to get comfortable. Once I'm settled my eyes close faster than I planned. I soon feel at finger gently tap my nose.

I wrinkle it in surprise, eyes snapping open in shock. My back reels back against the back rest. He sits on his heels, face on my level, incredulous look on his face. I swat at the finger still hanging in the air before laying my head back down. He nudges my elbow this time, I ignore it.

I ignore it when he nudges my knee, pulls on my foot. I swat his hand when his finger squish my cheek. Fuck this guy.

« What? » I growl, pushing on my hands to sit on the sofa. Being picked on when wanting to sleep is seriously annoying.

He looks a bit angry too. Jaw locked and eyes glaring, but not at me. He glares at the sofa. He raises his arm, points at the door, does he want me in the bedroom ?

« No way. » I grumble because I could really use sleep.

He points again and I see his chest shake with a rumble when I ignore him to lay back down. Before I can though, he puts his hands under my side and knees, begins to carry me. My eyes open in shock at the sudden loss of the soft material. I wave my hands for balance, but he's holding tight. I settle for a punch.

I muster all the strength I can while being carried, aim for the cheek and chin. He doesn't stop it, his hands stay under me, his feet move us towards the bedroom. He merely growls loud and for a moment I get scared. I remember I'm just a human, I may be his mate, but the knowledge at my disposal doesn't mention rejection.

I stay frozen in his arms because if he attacks back, I'm dead. Would he hurt his mate? I punched him so he could. I feel the sting on my knuckles, he still doesn't react. When he lays me down gently on the soft bed I'm still unmoving, I think I stopped breathing a minute ago.

He looks annoyed. There's not a speck of anger on his face, merely plain annoyance as he looks at the bed. I regain control when I feel the cold chill of the room when his hands have left my body. I'm starting to think he left the temperature down on purpose. While he seems busy glaring at his feet, I reach for the duvet and cover myself, pull back my legs under ready to flee.

A punch did nothing, how could I even think I could push him around. The chances of fleeing lower, a sense of doom fills me. Can I even do anything? Or am I powerless to my own life?

I don't have time to break down because he sit on the floor, using the bed as a back rest by my feet. He glares at his fingers, growls quietly at himself before he lays his head on the sheets. My breath hitches when his eyes settle on me. The annoyance flees for something else. Sadness, sorrow?

When he gives me a sad smile, face illuminated by the moonlight, I get the urge to cry. I lay back down under the duvet, turn away so I don't see him. Face hidden under the sheets and body still cold in the bed. I don't cry. Put a hand over my mouth instead to cover a silent scream, stuck in my throat. 

-

hi, let me know if you spot errors in language :)