Alpha Vaughan

Chapter 20

That late evening I had the shock of my life when I went up to my room, and saw Vaughan sitting on my bed, waiting.

Stood at the door, I took a moment to look at him. He wore a casual white shirt over dark jeans. The material of his shirt stretched over his wide chest, his hot jeans hugging his strong calves. While I ogled him, I failed to note that his eyes were turning an angry yellow.

When I did, he'd invaded my personal space, suddenly grabbing my arm in a bruising grip.

Shocked, I struggled against him. "Let me go, you...creep! What is wrong with you?"

"Where were you?" he snarled.

Psycho! I thought, snapping, "Hanging at Robyn's place! Now let me go."

"No," he growled in my face. "Not until you tell me why I scent a male allover you?"

My gaze widened in realization. Because I'd been fighting with one.

Vaughan meanwhile thought I'd just proven his suspicion about me seeing someone else. He let go of me as if I burned, then released a roar so loud I had to cover my ears. His lengthened black claws scratched a wide arc over the wall; paintings and dust rained down. I threw myself out of the fray in time, looking up at him in shock.

"Vaughan!" I screamed when he turned over an entire table of glass figurines. The sound of glass shattering grated on my ears, ratcheting up my panic.

Vaughan's burning yellow eyes met mine and I drew back in shock, realizing something. His wolf's eyes, they were without the intelligence of a regular shifter's, they were wild, and frightening and rabid, and...and cursed.

The mad king, they called him. At this point he looked very mad to me.

Chest heaving, a dangerous snarl in place, he clenched and unclenched his fists. With a start I noticed blood dripped down from the wide cuts on his fists, soaking the carpets.

When he took a step towards me, I took an automatic one back. That action seemed to have triggered something in him. Another roar escaped him and he dropped to the floor, clutching his head tightly. He roared continuously, starting to bash his head against the walls until a trail of blood trickled down his temples.

Out of my wits and furiously confused, I raked my fingers through my hair, casting a panicked gaze at the door. I should go call for help, they could put him in his rehabilitating cell. Yes, Greta would know what to do...

With one final glance at him, I ran to the door. When my fingers touched the handle, a loud roar sounded, and when I turned: I wished I hadn't.

Black furs had started to extend from his skin, his canines had elongated into very sharp points and his face had started to change, started to get bony and frankly scary.

He was looking at me, daring me to go out. A shaky breath escaped me, and when I left the doors, he resumed banging his head on the wall, roaring bloody murder.

Uncertainly, I slowly approached him. "Vaughan?" I called, walking up to him with my hands in front of me, letting him know I meant no harm.

He suddenly stopped when I stood before him. Silence stretched the air. He sniffed. A chill ran down my spine when he sprang up and stumbled away from me, clawing not just the walls but the cushions.

I realized he'd smelt the male on me again. Before he turned the room and himself into a mess, I rushed into the bathroom and took the quickest shower ever in history, stabbing my arms and legs into clothes after I was done.

I spotted him sat huddled in a corner of the room, broken furniture and shattered glass figurines forming a circle around him. He continued to bash his head into the wall, tearing at his hair. He looked so... Lost.