Her Maneuver

Chapter Three of Book Two

"Set me alive with your love."

--------

A gentle hand is placed on my shoulders pulling me from my daze. I look to my side to meet a somewhat old woman looking at me carefully and tugging me upwards.

"This is Shontelle." Alpha Glenn speaks, "She is our most trusted house-maid and will show you to your guest room."

"I really do appreciate all your efforts, but I need to leave now. I won't stay." I say rising from my seat.

"You will stay here, at least for the night. It's getting late anyway."

His words are stern as he looks at me intensely. I won't accept pity because this is what it is- a pitiful situation. I can handle myself.

He sighs as he notices my fixed unmoving posture, "I remember you and I know your father. He is family and so are you." He moves his hands in a dismissing order, "You are staying today. And if you don't like that, I will order you to, because after all you are in my territory."

Shontelle's eyes are on me now and I choose to look away, to the corner of the room where a wrinkling flower is placed in a crystal vase. I don't fight and I remain silent. Shontelle's soft arm is placed on mine again as she guides me outside.

I think of Alpha Glenn's words and pull them to repeat in my mind.

Is he returning a favor for father?

Could he actually care about an Alpha with a damaged fate?

Does he miss father like I do?

Does he yearn for his voice and crave his memory to be alive- within us again?

Maybe if he helps now, it will become a way to be linked to his long lost friend.

Be connected with the dead. Get in touch with our loved souls that are lost and away.

Isn't that what we all want?

And as I overthink all the ever existing thoughts I've painfully held, Shontelle softly speaks, "Miss, we have reached your room."

It's bright- brighter than my usual liking. Shontelle stands smiling warmly as her eyes travel to me.

"Thank you Shontelle." I speak.

"You're very welcome."

I walk a few steps entering my room. My eyes watching the beige counters and drawers, the silky sheets on my grand new bed, the tiny and finely detailed portraits of petite delicate flowers.

I then turn to Shontelle, her eyes soft and carrying a tint of brownish honey color. She seems like the person whom you would trust with your life, throw your arms around and smother your screams in the fabric of her smooth dress. Somehow, she reminded me of my mother: cool gestures and welcoming smiles. I seemed to remember my parents a lot these days. I nod gently at her, "You may leave now. I'm all good."

Her smile widens a bit as she pushes the door and shuts it behind her. The guest room sways with a certain warmth and is mixed with comfort and relaxation.

I close my eyes inhaling deeply and pulling off my oversized sweater, dirty leggings and worn out boots. I push the pile of clothes along with my bra and panties to the corner of the room.

I let my black hair fall to my sides as I untie it recklessly from my messy braid.

"Well, I sure do need a bath." I mumble pushing open the door of the bathroom.

With the twist of the tap, the hot water ran soothingly on my nude body. My head is still pounding:

threatening to burst with all my mixed up emotions. The dominating negative pull has finally subsided, and now I'm giving in. I carelessly massage my scalp with the first shampoo I grab. I feel out of breath, suffocated from reality. The bathtub seems so enclosed now, too tight and throttling, that I hurry and push myself out of it suddenly. My breath is hitching as I thrash around the bathroom. I seize a towel by my bathroom door, rolling it around me protectively. I know what's going to happen next as I crumble to the floor in defeat. All my senses fading away gradually, my stray tears dropping on the pale concrete.

I miss everything that has been dispatched from my life. I am longing for the past. Always have been. I've never killed the past, I always brought it back to life. And here I am. Who is there to blame, other than myself?

------

VOTE AND COMMENT.