His Claim

Chapter 8

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[Kaia's POV]

Fear.

The feeling that overtakes any cognitive emotion, melting away at any common sense like a fire sweltering through a dry hurst of timber. It consumes you; like an anaphylactic reaction that rushes into your core, striking you down and blocking out any reasonable elucidation, forcing you into submission like an animal caught in a trap.

The blood rushes through my skull like an ocean current. My temples pound like snare drums and my peripherals block out any other being beside me. My legs are boulders and my arms are roots intertwining in the dirt below me.

Lightning flashes in my face and suddenly I'm blind. The sky is clear, yet my hands are dripping with liquid. My lips tremble and my pupils dilate.

My mouth is dry and I can't recall the last time I even consumed a glass of water. My diet consists of coffee and game. Without the buzz of caffeine, husky circles lay under my eyes, presenting my lack of sleep for the world to see. Someone's hand is closing around mine, giving it a tight squeeze. I feel trapped.

"Kaia." A voice rumbles. I look towards the source of the sound and I'm greeted with a set of bright silver eyes.

"I-" I begin, but a wave of nausea hits me before I can finish my sentence.

"I'm sorry about all of this. I'll explain later." He whispered soothingly. I almost had to remind my wolf that he was the enemy. My pulse quickened as his grip around my hand tightened.

As we stepped off of the helicopter, the crowd roared with excitement. Photographers with huge cameras approached the Alpha, buzzing with questions with one key phrase: That female.

Beads of sweat rolled down my face as my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I wasn't exactly the most photogenic person at the moment. My hair was matted and tangled, sticking out in random places. I hadn't showered in two days-yet it had seemed like forever. I tilted my head, wetting my chapped lips with my tongue, and sniffed my shirt. It smelled like dirt, sweat, and a number of other rancid things that I couldn't quite pinpoint. My legs were prickly and unshaven and the rest of my body probably seemed repulsive to anyone with standards.

All in all, I was gross and unfit to be in any paper, let alone be standing next to the most famous and powerful Alpha in North America.

I also hadn't noticed how freezing it was.

Goosebumps sprouted all over my arms and legs as a icy wind blew into me. I glanced through the shield of my eyelashes as my legs slowly began to move on their own.

"Alpha, what news do you bring from the Southern region?!" screamed someone.

"Alpha Orion, why does the Southern Luna cling to your side?" A female shouted. I felt anger stir in my chest above all things. How was I "clinging to his side"? I sufficed a growl and pulled my hand away from his despite his agitation.

A shiver wracked my body as another cold breeze hit me. In the South, I would've been greeted with a warm breeze that buoyed my spirits. I exhaled sharply and noticed that I could literally see my breath in front of me.

Although I've spent the remainder of my teenage years dwelling in Quinton's regard, I grew up in the Far West, where cactuses dotted the horizon and kestrels scavenged throughout the hazy sky.