Alpha Tristan ✓ [Republishing]

Tessera [ 4 ]

author's note: Kara is unlikable right now but remember that Persophone initially hated Hades too!

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Two weeks.

That was how long Tristan managed to ignore me for. It was clear that what I had said hit a nerve, so much so that he could barely look at me. I couldn't complain because it was exactly what I wanted, but I couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness I felt.

The house was cold and dead. I barely saw anyone other than him, and it was always in passing. The place stayed true to its given name—it seemed like the land of the dead. I often wondered if he really did have a pack, but all doubts were squashed when he would leave in the morning and return at night smelling like other wolves.

In the name of loneliness, I wanted to meet his pack or at least someone who could hold a conversation with me. The most interaction I got from him was the sound of his footfalls passing my door on the way to his room. He didn't sleep much, but even with the copious amount of hours he was awake, not one was spent at least looking at me.

For the first week and a half, I welcomed his indifference—it made me feel better. But the downside was that it made me miss my mother even more. I cried myself to sleep every night, and I knew he could hear me or was at least awake when I did. I could hear him tossing and turning in his bed.

I threw the warm covers off my body and pulled at the long-sleeved top I was wearing. It was early morning and I rushed to the window to see him outside in the snow, an axe in hand as he steadied the log of wood before bringing his arm down in one swift blow.

It was like I was watching in slow-motion. The wood first splintered before completely snapping in half, and he had only struck it with one hand. It was effortless and as much as I hated to admit it, his strength sparked feelings of desire in me.

He seemed angry and I knew that it was a deadly emotion when it came to him. He split a thick log of wood with his bare hands and from the window, I could see the way his lip lifted into an angry snarl. The deep sound struck a chord of something in me—something I didn't want to register.

I wanted to go to him and press my palms to his cheeks, smoothing out the lines that carved in his face in anger.

That part of me won when I quickly ran down the stairs, light on my feet so he wouldn't hear me and disappear before I could even get a glimpse of his eyes. I stood at the half-opened door and watched as he picked up another log and tightened his strong hands around it. It seemed like he didn't know I was there, and he continued to wreak havoc on the pieces of wood as I watched him.