The Alpha's Little Thief (hiatus)

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

When Hawthorne's warm arms wrapped around me, tucking my head into his hard chest, the sobs came impossibly harder. He'd let go.

I'd caused this. And still, I couldn't stop. I knew he was talking, could feel the vibrations in his throat at the top of my head, but I didn't hear a thing. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, my heart raced, my chest heaved with gasping breaths. I realized I was having a panic attack, but I couldn't stop. Just like I hadn't stopped then.

A different body lay in front of me now, a female in a tattered dress. "Mama!" I shook the body bent at an awkward angle, but she didn't move. "Mama, wake up!" My little fists hit her. Her eyes were open, why wasn't she getting up? I knew something was wrong. She'd spilled red liquid all around her. I turned to go run for help when I noticed my father standing behind me. "Daddy, somethings wrong with mama! She's not waking up."

He walked towards us and backhanded me so hard I fell. "I told you not to call me that. I'm your Alpha."

"What's wrong with mommy?" I asked from my position on the ground, trying so hard to contain the tears. My cheek hurt a lot, but Alpha didn't like it when I cried.

"She's dead, you stupid girl. And it's your fault."

I stared at my father with wide eyes, mouth open in shock. Something cracked inside of me then. There was no stopping the tears, or the sobs, or the choked wails that echoed through the clearing. It didn't matter when my daddy hit me. Didn't matter when he pushed my head down next to that of my dead mommy's. I cried and cried, I thought I'd never be able to stop. I didn't for a long time. And once the tears finally dried, not from lack of grief but dehydration, I didn't cry again.

Until now.

~~~

Time passed but nothing stuck. There was the blur of movement around me but I couldn't decipher if these shapes were the trees swimming from my tears or if it was the ghost of all whom I have wronged. I couldn't hear anything either. Had I stopped crying? The only thing I was acutely aware of, was Hawthorne's skin against mine. A comfort I hadn't felt since before my mother was forbidden from holding me as a toddler.

I felt it when his arm wrapped under my knees, the other around my back and he lifted me from the ground. The bond between us howled as his hot skin touched my fevered exposed side. I burrowed into his chest, digging my nails into his flesh. I felt a soft touch on my forehead and wondered if it was his lips. I didn't close my eyes, the only thing close to me now was the tanned skin of his bare chest. Muscles rippling with each step he took. A welcome and selfish distraction.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could still make out the shadow of the body we now abandoned. New tears filled my eyes answering my earlier question. They didn't spill this time, simply teetering on the edge of my lashes, blurring my vision so that all I could see were colours.

Time must have passed, but the next thing I registered was Hawthorne setting down my limp form on a soft surface. His bed, I presumed from the smell. He left the room, and my heart rate accelerated, breathing coming harder again. I didn't want to be alone, needed him. The second his touch left mine, the bond ached and the memories returned. I tried to sit up or call after him but my body refused to obey.

When I felt his touch on my feet a moment later a relieved shudder tore through me. He was wiping my feet with a wet towel, then trailed upwards, rubbing over my legs and arms. The water renewed the scent of blood that had dried on my skin. He pulled one of his shirts over my head and lifted each arm through the holes. They fell limply to my side the moment he released them. I didn't watch as his hands crept up my outer thighs and pulled blood-soaked shorts off from under the shirt.