Alpha's Healer

6

Alpha King Dimitrio.

It is night time already.

Across the long mahogany table in my reading room, there lies countless scrolls and parchment that need my attendance. My brow furrows in concentration, a quill in my hands. Yet, despite my outward focus, my mind continues to wander to the wolfen. After sending her to fill my waterskin, she didn’t return. She must have taken it as an opportunity to run away but did she really think she can cross the threshold of my castle?

She won’t even get past the woods.

With occasional flashes of lightning, I pay little heed to the brewing tempest. However, with a deafening roar, thunder crashes overhead, shaking the very foundations of the castle. I let go of the quill, my concentration broken as the sound reverberates through the hall. Through the large windows on the top floor, I take a look out and wonder why the guards I sent to bring her back haven’t returned. As I worry about that, the door opens and I look in the direction.

Elizabeth escorts her in. Behind her, the wolfen looks like a porcelain doll, her clothes are clinging to her skin, soaked thoroughly by the rain. Her hair, once neatly styled, now hung in dripping strands around her face, framing wide eyes filled with a mixture of fear.

“What punishment do I…” Elizabeth is about to say and I raise my hand to keep her from talking.

“She is wet from head to toe, bring a dress she can change into.” I say, calmly—you wouldn’t guess that I have been defied.

“Uh?” Elizabeth says in disbelief. A feather tilts in my jawline when I look at her, it is a look that pierces through the facade of subservience, laying bare the gravity of the situation at hand.

“Yes, your majesty!” She says, straightening her back in an instant and leaving the room to do as I asked. After she leaves, the wolfen slowly goes to her knees, her eyes are on the ground. That annoys me, she doesn’t hold eye contact with me and it pisses me off. Yes, I know I am king and servants are to bare their eyes on the ground. I don’t know why it affects me but it does. I can never tell what she is looking or what she thinks about me.

Probably the worst because she is my property and I hold the freedom of her life. But to me, it doesn’t feel as if I have anything of her and this is because I cannot read her. She is on her knees but I don’t feel she is submitted.

“Why are you kneeling? Is it because you got caught trying to run away?” I ask.

“What!”

“Your…your majesty, I wasn’t running away.” She says, her voice is quaking and I expect it.

“Pray tell, where you taking a bath in the rain then?” I ask.

“I—I lost the waterskin, your majesty. Please forgive me.” She says and my jawline stiffens. I don’t trust her. I don’t believe her. I don’t take the words of healers.

“I don’t believe you. I think this was a futile attempt to run away and I caught you. You are a collateral for a debt and you tried to run off. Do you even know the punishment for that?” I ask, a slight increase in my voice and I watch as her fist tighten. Are they tightening because she hates me and the very essence of being alone with me in this room pushes her to anger? I am tired of guessing what she is thinking! I say to myself, walking towards her and pulling her up with one hand. The door opens and Elizabeth comes in.

“Leave the clothes and get out!” I seethe and the door closes at my command.

With a possessive grip, I draw the wolfen closer, her soaked garments clinging to my robes but her eyes, they find a way to look in a direction that isn’t me.

“Look at me.” I whisper, my eyes are hovering around her face and for the third time today, I have found her to be strikingly beautiful—adding to the images I already have of her. While her face is wet, hair clinging to her skin—due to the moisture, her lips are plump and inviting, a subtle shade of rose that contrasts against her pale skin.

Slowly, with the long lashes that frames her eyes, she looks at me like I have commanded.

“Once again, you have committed treason. Do you think I cannot kill you?” I ask.

“Then…kill me, your majesty.” She says and my expression darkens as I grapple her act of defiance before him. I relish the challenge she presents, finding a certain thrill in her refusal to yield. However, I don’t take rebellious acts, being a king or being a marauder. I don’t like to be tested.

“I own your life. I will decide what I do with it.” I say, letting go of her and she steps back. My attention turns to the clothes that Elizabeth left and I dust my hands.

“Start putting them on, one by one…” I say and for the first time, she stares at me.

Oh, finally. Did I finally hit a note?

“W—what?” She asks.

“Undress yourself. And one after the other, begin to try those dresses. It’s your punishment, wolfen. I will remind you who is king here!” I yell, taking a seat. Once again, her fists curl and I smile.

“You mistake me for one of your mistresses.” She says, gazing at me as she speaks.

“I can never mistake you. You are a wolfen. How the hell are you going to be mistaken?” I ask and my words, it seems they crack a hole in her heart because tears stream down from her eyes. She reaches one trembling hands to her cheek, and wipes off the tears. Slowly, she walks over to the clothes and I wait, tenaciously. I watch her eyes drift to the knife on the platter of fruits. Finally, I can read her…I can tell what she is thinking.

Instead of grabbing a hold of the cloth, she picks up the knife. Using both hands to hold the knife, she faces it towards me. Her hand are trembling as she clutches it, its glinting blade catching the light. The wolfen’s facial expression is now set in a steely resolve, her lips pressed into a firm line as she breathes heavily.

I cross my legs, resting my back against the chair. My posture remains relaxed, and my expression shows no hint of concern. I see her actions as nothing more than a futile gesture, a brief flare of rebellion that can be quickly extinguished by a subtle flex of my authority.

“Strike me.”

“If you don’t do it now, you will never be able to do it again.” I say to her and she glares at me.

“You are a piece of work.” She says and I chuckle.

“Wolfen…” I try to say but she interrupts me.”

“It’s Melissa. I am Melissa Spatiaits, get it right, you piece of work.” She says and I place a hand over my mouth, I am in awe.

“If you fail to strike me tonight. I will lord over you. You will never get this chance again.” I say, rising from my seat and as I do so, she moves back. The shadow of my stature on the ground completely swallows her own and it causes her to back away.

“One.” I say and her hands tightens around the knife.

“Two.” I say and she is still at the same position.

“Do it!” I yell at her, the yoke of my voice rhymes in the moment that a thunder breaks the sky as it continues to ponder rain on the outside. With her lips quivering, she raises the knife in the air, and flings it at me.

The blade slices through the air, propelled by her defiance, aimed directly at my heart. With a flick of my wrist, I deflect the oncoming blade, sending it spinning harmlessly off course. The knife clatters to the ground, its metallic echo reverberating through the tense silence of the room.

A sudden flash of lightning streaks through the window, illuminating my body in a dramatic manner. The intense light casts my figure, highlighting the contours of my muscles. I move, as swift as the wind, my movements are blur to mortal eyes—I am after all known as a shadow wolf. I materialize in front of her and she gasps, backed against the wall. I feel the stirring of my wolf, a restless energy pulsing through my veins as I stand in front of her.

It is the same restless energy that has been bothering me ever since I sent the guards to search for her in the woods. With a low rumble in my chest, my eyes glows in a golden hue—an evidence of my wolf recognising a mate.

The wolfen pales, awe struck by the tempest in my eyes. As for me, I hunger, feeling a desire that is stronger than anything I have ever known. In response to that desire, I pull her to my chest with primal force and my lips crashes against hers in a fervent kiss, one that is intense as it is demanding.

Her lips are as soft as pillows as I delve my tongue into her mouth—it tastes of sweetness, like the finest wine lingering on the palate. At first, there was reluctance from her until I parted her lips and the tightness of her hands on my robe lessened. Gently, I place a hand on her face, not interrupting the kiss but deepening it. My mouth is hot, and my royal c**k is aroused. I have never kissed a woman that made go lose control of my own body and dignity, literally.

My hands trace the contours of her hips before finally coming to rest on the ample curves of her backside. With a firm yet gentle grip, I squeezed, relishing the sensation of her soft flesh beneath my touch. She gasps into our kiss, pulling away and staring at me with all the emotions of the world. Her lips are swollen from my kiss, from my demands and I take a step back. Turning my face away in shame and dishonor, I allow her to walk away, leaving me with a bloody bulge in my pants.