Weakness Of An Alpha

Chapter Twelve: Elijah

I can't erase that image from my mind now.

It's extremely disturbing and unfortunate. I never imagined 'that' would happen in a kitchen. It's true, maybe I shouldn't swear, but do I really care? No, I don't care.

My mother always used to tell me 'Elijah, don't swear.' She always had something to say about Elijah this, Elijah that. God, I understand. But sometimes I can't help but wish I had more time with her.

She passed away last year in a terrible car accident. I was in the back of the car when it collided head-on with another car that didn't give way. I survived, but my mother didn't. The impact of the crash was so severe, it instantly took her life.

It was a horrific experience.

And she left too soon.

My heart broke that day. I never really talked about it. But maybe now I can.

As I walked up the stairs, down the hallway, and into my bedroom where Anastasia was peacefully asleep, curled up in the covers. She looks so serene when she sleeps.

I entered the bathroom and filled up a glass of water to the brim, making sure not to spill any. Turning off the sink tap, I placed the glass gently on the nightstand.

I noticed a few strands of hair had fallen onto Anastasia's face. I reached up to brush them away, feeling a warm sensation in my body. Lowering my hand with a sigh, I sat on my green chair, my eyes still fixed on Anastasia. I brought my hand up to my mouth, fingers grazing my lips, and crossed one leg over the other.

Looking at her, she reminded me so much of Ava. Ava had been a significant part of my life, and I know it's not right to compare someone to a past acquaintance. However, there was something about Anastasia that sparked memories of Ava, although they were different, yet the same, in a way.

Clear your mind, Elijah. She's gone now. Accept it.

I closed my eyes, sinking into the chair and leaning my head back, a familiar position from when I had attempted to harm Anastasia. I felt guilty, that much was true. But it was like I was in a trance, detached from myself during that deep sleep. I knew I needed to apologize to her, even though I wasn't used to asking for forgiveness.

I messed up, in a big way.

I pressed a hand to my face, a bitter smile forming as I shook my head. Raising my head, I heard a noise coming from my bed. I turned to look and saw her stirring, slowly sitting herself up against the bed frame. She seemed to have had a peaceful rest.

I chuckled softly, observing the disarray of her hair and the drool on her face. I rose from my chair, slowly approaching her. Clearing my throat, I watched as her eyes widened in shock when she noticed me.

Raising my hands in a non-threatening gesture, I assured her that I meant no harm. She seemed to understand and relaxed slightly. Her body still appeared tense.

"H-wh-" she managed to stammer, her voice dry. I handed her a glass of water.

She hesitated for a moment before accepting the glass, our fingers briefly touching. I felt a strange sensation. What was that?!

It was the oddest feeling I had ever experienced. What was happening?

She took a large gulp of water, relief evident as she moistened her throat. Her lips parted, as if to speak, but no words came out.

Confusion washed over me as I realized she might be scared of me. Feeling guilty, I hesitated to comfort her. Her body tensed, as if expecting a threat. I would never harm her, that thought was abhorrent.

Was I the cause of her fear? Did my presence invoke such terror in her?

Suppressing my instinct to reach out to her, I muttered, "Are you afraid of me?" Her gaze met mine, filled with fear. It was true, she was afraid.

Sighing, I moved away to give her space to calm down. She was not angry, just frightened. Perhaps even terrified of me.

As I took a step back, her hand grabbed mine, freezing me in place. Her grip conveyed a plea for me to stay. It was as if she didn't want me to leave.

With her head lowered, I looked at her with furrowed brows. Why did she want me to stay? Was she afraid to tell me the reason for her fear?

Please don't go. I'm not afraid of you, it's just that...". She pauses for a moment, then continues while nervously biting her lip. "I was a little scared, I'll admit, but with you... I feel safe."

There it was - everything I had thought and told myself that she was scared and had admitted it. But she was scared enough to feel safe with me.

The surprise on my face showed her that she had said something unexpected or wrong. This made her regret saying it and she quickly pulled her hand away.

"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," she muttered, her cheeks turning pink with embarrassment.

I smirked, expressing, "I had no idea that I had the ability to make you feel secure, my dear." Her face turned a shade of red that was almost comical. This made my smirk widen even more, and I couldn't help but let out a chuckle.