His Claim

Chapter 3

Kaia's POV

His presence shifts the room as I finish packing my clothes.

I don't greet him-he simply walks across the floor and disappears into his study without saying a word. I can sense his sadness, it hangs like a storm cloud low in the sky.

I lock my fingers around the handle of my suitcase and place it onto the floor. I run my hand along the cotton blankets, feeling the warmth saturate my palm with nostalgia. The nights we spent talking, reminiscing about childhood memories.

I close my eyes, seeing blackness and trying not to cry. I'm not going to fall apart again. I promise myself that over and over until I'm certain that I believe it.

"Are you ready?" A low voice asks from behind me. My hold on the comforter tightened, scrunching up the sheets. The floorboards creak as he takes a step towards me.

His presence is overpowering, noticeable. Something that would make heads turn.

His feet appear in my peripheral vision as he picks up my suitcase weightlessly. His muscles flex from under the thin fabric of his shirt, threatening to burst through. I'm no match for an experienced alpha like him, and neither is my mate.

His masculine scent swarms to my nostrils, filling my lungs. I exhale with the wind as it batters against the window. Leaves flutter from the trees, a mix of brown and red as they settle against the dusty ground.

His elbow brushes past my waist and I shudder. I don't like being so close to him.

"Yes." I say coldly. I turn around, and his neck is arched towards me. He's trying to ensure my virtue, my chastity. I throw a hand to my neck, heat coming off of the skin in fragments.

"There's no mark." I say uneasily. I pull my hair tie from my hair, sending my locks onto my shoulders. My neck is concealed from his gaze.

I drop my shoulders, an uneasy feeling wafting over me. I don't like that this stranger is standing in my room. His scent is filling my nose-primitive, wild-enough that I can feel it stirring in the back of my throat.

He takes one last look at me, and steps out of the room. His grey eyes are enticing and striking, as if he's staring me right to my soul. I'm probably seen like a vulnerability to him. His arms are battered with war scars, arms slick with muscles, his eyes holding a history of the land that I could never comprehend. In an oblivious way, it terrifies me.

"I'll be in the car." He says shortly before disappearing past the doorframe. The sound of his steps disappear down the hall as I stand in my room, alone. I can't see Quinton in his office and the room is dark. A few beams of sunlight illuminate half of the room, but his desk is shielded from my view.

Somehow, I find the will to say goodbye.

I cut through the room, my vision blurring with tears before my hand rests on the brass doorknob. My hand coats the metal with sweat and the coolness of it sends a chill up my arm.

"Quinton?" I say. There's no response.

I angle my head, but I can't see him anywhere in the room. A bit of nervousness stirs in my abdomen. Despite the events that have concurred in the last couple of hours, I couldn't bear to think if something happened to him.

I push the door open swiftly, sending it into the wall before it bounces off of the rubber protector. A bottle of whiskey lay spilled across the wood of his desk, letting tiny drops of the rancid liquid onto the carpet. The sight sickens me. Alcohol was like the devil's poison-you could never anticipate how it changed you.

"Quinton." I repeat and I hear the floor creak from behind a bookshelf on the far side of the room. Dust stings my nose as I walk towards the source of the noise.

Hands clutching a bottle of whiskey, he's sprawled across the floor, eyes half open. He meets my gaze, the bottle whiskey slowly slipping out of his iron grip.

"Get up." I say with embarrassment on my back. Gripping the bookshelf, he is pulls himself up while throwing his head back to take another sip of the poison. His eyes are lost and glassy, desperately trying to use the liquid to numb the pain.

I feel no pity for him.

"I'm leaving." I tell him while turning my cheek. His hand grips the wood, eyelids drooping in tiredness.

"No." He whispers while his hand reaches towards me. I scoff and turn away from him. His hand grips the back of my shirt, nearly tripping me.

"Let go!" I growl while pushing him backwards. He stumbles, a low groan of pain slipping from his stained lips while the back of his head hits the wall. He slumps back over, watching me quickly exit the room. There's nothing more to be said.

I leave my room, wiping the whiskey off of my lower back.

"Luna." A female says while approaching me. She dips her head, face scrunched up with sadness. "Alpha Orion is waiting for you outside."

"Thank you." I nod while stepping out of the open door.

The sun reduces his figure to a shadowy silhouette, perched on the hood of his car; watching, waiting. The woodsy scent of the outdoors dulls his scent momentarily before I inhale the smell of the northern Alpha. He's sitting in the car, hands clenching the steering wheel, eyes watching my every move.

I pull open the car door and slide in. The car smells of him and I know that soon my old pack's scent will be unrecognizable.

He turns the key into the ignition, lips parting to say something. We catch each other's eyes for a split second, mine full of sadness, his not showing any signs of emotion. He quickly turns away and doesn't say anything.
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