Not My Alpha (Completed)

Chapter Forty-Six - A Sermon in Syllables

He was older than I expected. Patchy white hair adorned the old man's age-spotted scalp. A matching beard lined his jaw. Deep set lines and wrinkles etched the story of his life across his cheeks, eyes, and forehead. He wasn't a large man, but he wasn't small, either. What once must have been a tall and lean figure was now a hunched back and sagging skin.

 "Beta Samuel. I came as quickly as I could," he spoke in rushed words. 

The man's voice wasn't what I'd expected, either. It was lighthearted and showed no sign of his age. If I'd heard his voice without seeing him first, I'd have thought he wasn't much older than myself. 

Samuel moved to the side of the room, clearing a path for the man. He kept his arms folded and jerked his head towards me. "She needs your help."

The man, who I assumed to be Marshall, glanced my way. His eyes light up for a second, their bright golden color glinting in the unnatural light. 

"Certainly, Beta." 

Marshall walked forward, and once again his age was shown nowhere but his face. His walk was heavy, but it purposeful and elegant. He scanned me once over the closer he came, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath. I tried not to shy away from him, but the closer he drew, the harder it was. Appearances were misleading, and I wasn't ready to let myself be deceived, again. My nerves were on edge, and though my body was tired and failing, it tensed for the worst.

If Marshall noticed my wariness, he didn't say anything. He simply smiled lightly and came to stand next to his desk, opening the oversized first aid kit Samuel had placed there earlier. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Just above her hip," Samuel answered for me. He'd mimicked Marshall in moving closer to me and was now standing barely a foot away from the desk. His arms were still folded tightly against his chest, and his mouth was a permanent thin line. 

Marshall nodded. Without further explanation, the old man lifted up my shirt to reveal the wound. I kept my gaze averted, but the silence that followed the revelation of my bloodied skin gave me everything I needed to know. 

Samuel abruptly cursed and took another step forward. His gaze snapped up to mine, and for the first time since we'd left the woods, I saw a glimpse of emotion leak back into his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but as soon as he did, Marshall sighed. With that noise, Samuel slipped back into stone. 

"It's not as bad as it looks." Marshall began prodding the area around my stitches. He quickly grabbed a cloth and started wiping away excess blood, carefully avoiding my stitches. "Can you tell me what happened? This will help me know how to treat it." As he spoke,  he turned and brought something else to my skin, squeezing a cool liquid that rolled down my side and fell in a pool around my leg.

Samuel answered before I could open my mouth. "She fell. I fell on top of her."

To my surprise, a small chuckle escaped Marshall's lips. "Kids these days," he mused.

"It wasn't anything like that," I protested immediately, shifting away from the two of them.

Marshall's gaze flicked up to mine, then to Samuel, who was still an emotionless boulder. Unspoken accusations danced in his eyes, and he did little to hide his amusement. 

"It wasn't," I stated again, my voice rising. "Tell him, Samuel. Tell him what happened."

Marshall laughed again, and as he did, something sharp stabbed my side. It was pulled painfully from my skin, and then, before I could protest, it happened again. I gasped in pain, my eyes darting to Marshall's hands just in time to see him pulling my stitches apart.