The Alpha's Daughter: Whispers in the Wind [on hold]

Whispers in the Wind - Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Rollo:

I was drunk. I probably should have stopped after the first few cans of beer. But Trix had bought it, and who was I to refuse a free drink, hmm? Laughter. Lots and lots of laughter. We were in the kitchen, surrounded by empty cans and bottles. Where she had got this from, I had no idea, but I wasn’t going to question it.

Questions led to all sorts of problems.

“So why do you strut?” Trix giggled, squirming in her seat. I looked at her through glazed eyes. Her hair seemed exceptionally bright; almost white against the glumness of the walls. She was holding a bottle around the neck, waving it about with no airs and graces. Maybe this was the sort of girl I needed. The one that didn’t care. The one that got completely bladdered and didn’t care about the consequences.

A minor, Rollo, my wolf shot at me.

I hated when he was right. Smug git.

The door swung open, and I turned just in time to see Annie shuffle into the room, her shirt turned up carelessly from an encounter with whoever had wanted her. Cal’s mark was burnt onto her skin. Mark? It was like being branded.

“Branded,” I voiced, “like a…duck.”

Annie stared at me, the silence momentary as both women tried to process what I’d just said. Then laughter erupted from Trix.

“Branded!” she gasped. “Like a duck! I love you, Rollo!” Aye, everyone loved me. Until I walked away or stabbed them in the back. Then the love wasn’t felt for a long time.

Annie shook her head at me, grabbing an apple from the bowl. I probably should have been nicer to her; she’d had a rough week. But y’know what?

I couldn’t be arsed.

“Caleb Greene has branded you like a man brands a donkey,” I declared at the top of my voice.

You’re such a tit, Rollo, Annie hissed, disappearing out the door and up the stairs. It might’ve been the drink, or it might’ve just been my grossly strange and traumatised mind, but I could’ve sworn I heard a sob before her bedroom door slammed shut.

But like I said; it might’ve been the drink.

After a couple of hours, Flint came stumbling back into the house, his face bruised and bloody from some sort of fight. Stupid idiot; you weren’t supposed to draw attention to yourself like that. Low profile was a wolf’s best friend. Especially to the ones holding a teenage girl captive.

“Pass us a drink,” he muttered, swiping up a can and popping the ring top. Did he think that he could come into my kitchen and drink my booze?

It’s not your kitchen, Flint grumbled, swigging back the can.

And it’s not your booze, Trix reminded me, her eyes lighting up.

Okay; so apart from that, he was being rude.

“Whatever, Rollo,” he muttered. Whatever? Whatever my left arse cheek! I hit him round the head, slightly harder than I’d originally intended. Flint didn’t even react; just staring at the wall opposite him. I would have guessed he was thinking, if I didn’t know Flint as well as I did.

Thinking was just a step too far in the ways of intelligence for him.

“What’s wrong?” I sighed.

Trix looked stunned. Flint looked like I’d just announced I was human. What? I could be kind when needs be…

“Nowt,” Flint mumbled. “Absolutely nowt.”