Forced To Marry The Alpha

Pulling An All Nighter

It was delicious and my wolf was delirious. There was a loud and long growl after and it alerted me immediately that I wasn't dreaming anymore.

I opened my eyes to see Hakeem placing a sliver tray of biscuits, a bowl of soap and two tablets on the small oak table beside my bed. I realized there was also a tall glass of some yellow orange thick fluid.

There was then the weighty gaze of Hakeem on me. I looked up at him, locking gaze with him as he loomed over me. He touched my forehead tenderly and frowned.

"Your fever is going down," he flatten his lips into thin lines. I watched as he took the two tablets and put them in my hand. "But I advise you still take this and drink that," he pointed to the glass of the unknown fluid. "When you are done with the soup. Chef made it specially for you."

He spoke whilst helping me sit up in the bed with my back to the head board.

I smiled weakly at him, feeling a little drained for some reason. He passed me my brush and I thanked him with my eyes. Hakeem definitely knew me too much, especially about my ranking of hair appearance over food. I mean, food is important but I wouldn't really enjoy anything I was eating if my hair was a mess.

I brushed my hair, trying not to wince at the knots in it. My hand wasn't up to the duty either, but it was something I could deal with. After Hakeem left, I continued to go through torturous minutes smoothing out my hair which distracted me from the pain for awhile. It was so good at distracting me that it wasn't until I placed the brush on the side table that I felt how my scalp prickled and how much drained of energy I felt.

"I really do need to eat," I said before drinking down the warm soup. The good thing, was that it wasn't just a soup of broth and noodles, it also had some bits of chicken and ground provisions. The noodles were quite short and was more for added taste than anything in the soup. All in all, I enjoyed the soup. But anytime I am hungry, almost everything tastes good. It puzzled me, especially since I could swear chef prepared a soup similar to this, only with less pepper, when I was a kid and fell ill. And I absolutely hated the thing so much, my stomach rejected it.

Well, I was a kid then who preferred steak than any other cut of beef and was obsessed with all things sweet.

I then tried to chug down the tall and very full glass of something all too familiar. I definitely knew this was never going to be pleasant for my taste buds. Neither the time nor my age could change that.

With a finality of defeat, I pinched my nose as the thick liquid took its leisure time to go down my throat despite my best efforts. I tried to control my gag reflex, but boy was it hard. By the time the awful liquid was emptied out of the glass, my stomach was churning loudly and I had to rush to the toilet with hand over mouth.

My gag reflex was back into play and everything, including the soup, erupted from my mouth, leaving a bitter and burning sensation in my throat. I coughed and dry heaved. Through it all, I held my hair back, so it didn't get caught in the yucky substances flowing from my mouth.

I was too weak to stand so I just sat on the bathroom mat, my back to a wall. With a little energy from what I thought was adrenaline, I climbed up the sink and brushed my teeth and scrubbed my tongue. I did that so many times, my throat was aflame, my eye stung with tears and my gums were chafed. Yep, the taste was that horrible.

After a while, I heard a soft knock at the door and then a soft turning sound, but I remained silent. The off white bathroom door was pushed open and Hakeem peeped through, a glass of water in his hand. I just sat there on top of the sink, watching him as he made calculated steps toward me.

Without uttering a single word, he held my head with his free hand and brought the glass of water to my cracked lips. I drank hungrily, not knowing I was thirsty until I felt the water on my lips.