Alpha's Healer

4

Alpha King Dimitrio.

I scoff, staring at the cheek where her hands landed on. Yes, I have fought with men who have struck daggers at me, whose arrows have dug into my skin, whose whips have torn my back. But a slap? A slap from a female? One who is a wolfen, lower than an omega…it feels like a joke. An insult to all that I am and that aggravates me. I needed the wolfen to learn her place, I needed her to see that I have power over her life and if dishonoring her dignity would establish that, so would it be.

I don’t care about her father’s measly debts. It is nothing but a dime in my treasury. I am a monarch whose wealth is not merely measured in gold and jewels, but in the flourishing lands, bustling cities, and unwavering loyalty of millions of wolves who know my name. As I became the king of Gethmorn, the grandeur of the castle increased—adorned with the finest silks and rarest treasures from distant lands. Yet, it is still not within these walls alone that my wealth resides. I have taken over lands since I was a marauder—they are fertile fields that stretch as far as the eye cannot see, yielding bountiful harvests to feed my people and fill the coffers of my kingdom.

“Your majesty?” Allen says, and I look back.

Allen is the general of my army, and a man I consider my beta. Years ago when I left this castle, he went along with us…he was a young boy who had an abuser for a father and had nowhere else to go. The last straw was when his father’s abuses had caught up to the highest degree and stolen the life of his mother. We trained together, day and night…we became brothers.

Not bound by blood but sorrow.

I promised him that we would come back for revenge. Allen’s father was a lord, an official to my father and due to his power, he got no punishments for what he had done to his wife. Regrettably, during the attack we brought to Gethmorn, Allen’s father had fled along with other officials who knew we would come for their head. However, my half-brother, the new king, Mureok, who was crowned a year ago after our father’s death stood his ground on the throne, choosing to fight.

After my men took down Mureok’s warriors, we broke through castle’s doors and I made my way to the throne room where he was waiting to spar with me. After the end of the sparring, I had my sword on his neck, ready to slice it off but I didn’t pursue my instincts. Instead, I sent him, his mother, the queen who killed my mother and the princess to the dungeons until I figure out what I need to do with them.

“Did you just call me his majesty?” I say, turning to look at him and he breaks into laughter.

“I wanted to see the look on your face, brother.” Allen says, he is clad in simple shirts, standing at ease beside the door, a grin playing at the corners of his lips.

“I am annoyed and I don’t know what to do about it.” I say to him. With a measured breath, I reach out and grasp my polished bow, its sinuous curves fitting snugly against my calloused palms.

“And who...just who, would annoy the beast of Gevaudan.” Allen says, putting his hands in the air to demonstrate something grand and I scratch my forehead, unable to let him know that it is a female.

“Words have passed already…a woman made you angry today.” He ends and I look at him, about to defend myself of what she did.

“What else did those servants say about me? How dare they gossip about me!? I ask, interested in the rumours at first.

“So it’s true?” Allen says.

“No, its façade!” I say, pointing one finger at him like I’m warning him.

“Tell me what part is the facade? The fact that you got angered by a female, made her your healer when I know you hate the word ‘healing’ in itself or the fact that this person in question is a wolfen!? Dimitiro, I left the castle for a few hours and it seems like a lot has happened. You have been a busy king.” Allen says.

“She is nothing.” I say flimsily.

“Why did you make her your healer then?” Allen asks.

“It’s a punishment.” I seethe.

“To be the healer of the king is an opportunity. A thing of honour.” Allen says, following me into the dresser. With practiced efficiency, I cinch my belt around my waist, the leather strap sliding smoothly through the loops of my pants. As I secure the buckle, my fingers worked deftly, adjusting the fit with a precision born of necessity.

“Well, she won’t be healing me…she is a collateral for her father’s debt.” I respond after a long pause.

“This wolfen could be working in the kitchens, the yards…why do you need to have her next to you?” Allen’s inquisitiveness is getting stronger as I answer each question.

“A punishment.” I say, once again, unable to tell him that I was slapped.

“Tell me, Dimitrio, are you horny?” Allen asks and I walk past him, out of the door. Quickly, he follows at my side and stands in front of me.

“Well, they say a king can have many women as he likes.” Allen says, whispering in my ear, a tug at the corner of his lips.

“Allen, you must have been dropped as a baby if you think I’m horny for a damn wolfen!” I grit my teeth, saying when Elizabeth, the head of the steward chambers walks in front of us and behind her, is the wolfen we are talking about. While Allen is still babbling about, I lay my eyes on her presence. Her figure is draped in the sumptuous folds of a crimson gown that flowed like liquid fire around her slender frame.

It is the uniform of servants. It has never caught my eyes before, never. It is a simple material, nothing special, nothing priceless but on her, it is…it is unique and alluring. The neckline of her gown has delicate white lace cascaded like frothy waves, framing her collarbones and I have never taken note of that before. Her hair, whose length I have witnessed earlier in the morning is parted into two neat sections and tied back. Without her hair disturbing her face, I can see her features.

Her complexion is reminiscent of molten gold, each freckle and blemish is like precious flecks of gold dust sprinkled across a flawless canvas. The wolfen’s neck is slender and graceful as that of a Giselle and as she walks towards us, reducing her eyes to the ground and bowing to me.

I assess every detail of her, including the lace at the end of her sleeves that fluttered like the wings of a butterfly.

“Your majesty.” She murmurs, her voice is so quiet.

“Uh---who is she?” Allen asks.

“His majesty’s healer, Melissa.” Elizabeth answers and I take note of her name.

“Ohh…she is, um…she is.” Allen says, looking at me and I turn my back to walk away.

“Are you going hunting, your majesty?” Elizabeth asks.

“Yes. I will be back before dinner.” I answer, taking a glance at the wolfen and surprised at the fact that she hasn’t looked up or peeked a look at me. Does she hate me? Is she bitter? Does she wish I was dead? Am I not worthy of her gaze?

“Go with his majesty, Melissa. Carry his water.” Elizabeth says and for a split second, I get a reaction from the wolfen. She glares at Elizabeth like the woman has made a mistake for requiring that of her.

"Can you ride a horse?” Allen asks.

Without lifting her gaze, she replies.

“Yes, general.” She answers and I turn my back, walking off with a bow in my hands.

At the front entrance of the castle, my horse is waiting for me. It is a beastly behemoth whose monstrous frame towers above all others in the royal stables, its sheer size and bulk is a testament to its formidable strength and raw power. It is a breed of horse that has no name or written information of where it actually stems from. Five years ago, it was given to me as a gift from a village I once saved from rouge attack.

They said it was a horse but I couldn’t believe, it had monstrous qualities— it wasn’t vegetarian, it eats animals. I named him Shadowfang. It has dark fur that bristles like the spines of a fearsome predator, its eyes, twin orbs of fiery crimson that burned with an intensity that is untamed by the reins of civilization. From its massive hooves to the tips of its sweeping mane, Shadowfang’s breath came in as hot gusts of excitement when he caught sight of me.

With a gentle hand, I reach out to stroke the softness of its fur and Shadowfang nudges its head to me. With a graceful leap, I mount. My movements are as effortless as a bird taking flight as I settle into the saddle. As I climb, I see the wolfen approaching to meet Allen and I. I can see the shock and hesitation in her eyes, gazing at Shadowfang as she reaches.

Suddenly, tension suddenly pierces the air as Shadowfang, with a snarl akin to a predator, lunges at the wolfen. She screams, stepping back, losing her footing and falling on the ground. Shadowfang’s muscles coiled with an untamed ferocity but, in a swift and authoritative motion, I tighten my grip on the reins, asserting dominance.

Shadowfang hesitates, as if caught in a battle of wills between its primal instincts and my silent authority. But then, with a low rumble that seemed to reverberate through the very ground beneath us, it relents, its muscles relaxing as it took a step back. I stroke his mane, soothing its frayed nerves with a gentle touch and I look at the wolfen that is still on the ground.

“Shadowfang doesn’t like newcomers.” I say to her, looking down at her from the horse. Allen, acting like a gentleman gets off his horse but she rises before he can even come close. At least, I’m not the only man she treats with contempt.

“Are you okay?” Allen asks.

“Yes, general. Thank you.” She says, feets away from him.

“Shall I help you up?” Allen offers.

“No, thank you.” She answers, collecting the reins of the stableboy.

With a graceful leap, the wolfen mounts the horse, her movements as effortless as the flutter of a butterfly's wing as she settled into the saddle. Watching her back arch, she has her eyes on the mare and I exhale. Allen looks back at me, and I tug at my reins, speeding off with Shadowfang.