Alpha, Do I Know You?

Chapter 2: Hurt

Elizabeth, a raging spitfire of a woman who would rather sacrifice everyone just to see her goals to completion, wanted the house to be in order before the party tonight. As the highest ranking female in the pack, the Louve, mate to the alpha, she had errands—whatever they may be—to prepare for tonight's shindig with the Guijero pack.

Most of the pack had been excited to tonight's party for months because it formally ties Guijero to Alcatrozz, on account of the mating of two wolves from each pack. It was a rare occasion, having found a mate outside of the pack that it often led to the packs that had their wolves mate to form an alliance.

And with such rarity, Elizabeth pushed that she host the party to celebrate the alliance. Of course, she got me scrubbing the floors, cleaning the windows for the littlest speck of dust and grime, and cooking a feast first thing in the morning.

I would have loved to enjoy the party tonight, but with the long list of tasks she had me doing, I doubt I'd have any breathing room tonight. But maybe it's a good thing. I'd be so busy that I wouldn't encounter Tate the whole day, thus avoiding the pain of being rejected for a while longer.

As I was stirring the warm pot of soup, loving the idea of being overworked, I heard a couple of footsteps heading toward the kitchen where I was. My hair rose to its ends and I stiffened, smelling a familiar leather-y smokey scent of wood among those that are heading my way.

Before I could fully prepare myself into seeing him, he stepped into the kitchen, his emerald eyes meeting mine without pause.

All the air in my lungs and in the surroundings seemed to be sucked out of existence as I drank the sight of him. He seemed bigger than life as he stood under the kitchen arch, blocking the way for his friends to come in. His deep-set bright eyes pulled focus from the way his yellow shirt loosely framed his sun-kissed skin. His white blonde hair was a mess of curls that framed his face.

I gripped the ladle hard, feeling the metal be dented, and imagined solid chains tying my feet to the ground, so I wouldn't run and wrap my body around him. My heart was running a mile per second and his scent seemed to wrap its smoky tendrils around me and all I could focus on was him.

His eyes narrowed and a fraction of a second later, widened. This is it, I realized, the moment I've been readying myself for.

His fingers curled into fists as he took a step toward me, his eyes darkening into dark emerald pools.

Unconsciously, I growled softly at him and I grabbed the ladle properly, holding it to my side in case he decides to attack.

"Man, there's a starving wolf here. Move over," grumbled a guy—Mark—as he sidestepped Tate and headed to the refrigerator. He opened it, taking out a huge bag of chips.

Mark's sudden appearance was like a bucket of water thrown onto a fire that just started, before it could harm anything. I blinked and started stirring the pot of soup again, trying hard to ignore Tate who was still looking at me.

The rest of Tate's friends—Quentin and Lowell—entered the kitchen, patting Tate's back as he stood still under the kitchen arch, staring at me.

Quentin joined Mark in happily munching the chips by the far end of the counter and talking about the football game they were training for.

Lowell walked slowly to where I was, grabbing a sandwich from the pile I made earlier, staring at me all the while. He started eating it, glancing at Tate who was still looking at me, as I continue to look at the soup in front of me.

However, instead of the warm rage I felt him exude earlier, all I felt now was sheer curiosity as he walked to the counter where I was and sat down at the stool in front of me. He watched as I lessened the stove fire and started cutting up the potatoes for the salad bowl.

I kept my head lowered, because it is the right thing to do for a human who is in the presence of a superior species. I rolled my eyes at that stupid rule that's only meant to fuel the egos of the narcissists in this pack.

Superior my ass. They wouldn't know a bigger, more hostile threat was in their land until it bites them in the ass.

"Evangeline," said Tate softly, testing my name on his tongue.

I stiffened, his voice breaking my train of thought quickly, making me realize that I broke away from the anger and annoyance I felt at Tate's threatening stance a few moments earlier when he realized I was his mate.

“Stupid, stupid!”, I thought, mentally smacking myself for once again escaping from reality and groaning about the stupidity of this pack's rules and treatment to humans.

No matter how different my abilities may be from a normal werewolf, if I continuously don't pay attention to my surroundings, I'll end up in dangerous situations I may not be able to get out of. “God, focus more self!”, I thought shaking my head furiously.

"You okay?" Tate asked, his head tilting a little to the side to look at my face.

Gone was the dangerous aura he emitted earlier, replaced only by the sheer concern in his eyes. If things weren't as they are—me pretending to be wholly human and his pack disallowing human-werewolf mating—I would have melted into a warm puddle right then and there. Admittedly, I am also confused as to why he’s all concerned now when it seemed like he was ready to kill me earlier.

Probably a fluke caused by the shock of finding out that the great son of the Alpha is destined to be with a human, I thought as I raised my head to look at him.

“I’m good,” I said softly, sounding like a squeaking mouse because it was the first time today that I spoke out loud. Tate stared at me then nodded as he stood from the stool and grabbed the knife from my hand.

“Uh what are you doing?” I asked as he started cutting up the rest of the potatoes.

Quentin and Mark paused in their conversation, eyes a little wide, most likely dumbfounded at what Tate is doing like I am. In my peripheral view I saw Lowell who sat near us, continue watching us while finishing off his sandwich.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Tate asked, grabbing a big empty pot from under the kitchen cabinets and filling it with water. He placed it on the stove, seasoning the water with salt before covering it up and looking at me. The corner of his lips rose as he said, “I know how to cook a simple potato salad.”

I blinked. And blinked again, my mouth opening and closing a few times as no words to describe the scene in front of me came to the forefront of my mind. I have been living with these guys for years and I could count at one hand, nay less than five fingers, the times that Tate talked to me directly.

It was a year after I was abandoned at the door of the pack. The wolves were not comfortable allowing a human to stay but they had no say in the matter because the Alarick—the Head of the Wolf Clans—ordered my stay and adoption to the pack I was found in. I’m not sure why the Alarick did what he did, but that’s what my foster parents (on the paper at least) Samuel and Raina Lewis said.

Knowing I was a wolf and being unable to reveal that fact to anyone, I tried to adjust the best I could, keeping to myself, and learning as much as I can from this new environment. But it didn’t work much as bruises frequently decorated my entire body, or if I was lucky, only a few, because they needed a punching bag. And in their minds, what better punching bag than the human girl who wouldn’t be able to fight back?

Every nerve in my body burned with the desire to maul them to pieces and enjoy every second of it. But with gritted teeth and the unknown voice at the back of my head resonating with reason to keep my wolf side in the dark for now held me back—even as I was gurgling blood from the punch fest that members of the pack took turns in. I should have shifted, I thought repeatedly regretting my decision to keep true to the promise I made with that unfamiliar voice, as I lay on the ground trying to suck in air through my damaged windpipes.

Hours passed agonizingly slow, my pipes slowly healing, that I was able to close my eyes without fear of dying because I couldn’t breathe. A warm touch on my forehead made me snap my eyes open and see Tate. He wrinkled his brows as he examined the bruises on my body. When he didn’t do anything besides looking me over, I closed my eyes again, desperately wishing I wasn’t being stupid by trusting another wolf from the same pack that did this to me.

“Can you stand?” His voice was the warm serenade of salvation from years of horrific nightmares. Without waiting for an answer, he carefully picked me up and started walking. The anxiety and fear of wondering if I’ll survive that night whooshed out of my system as I smelled his scent. I fell asleep as he held me in his arms and dreamt of the scent of the forest in the early morning.

After that fluke, I couldn’t talk to him because he stayed out of my way, and eventually I stopped trying to catch his attention to thank him for that time. I imagine he didn’t expect me to live through that night and was probably regretting his decision then that’s why he avoided me.

Looking at him now as he mixed the potatoes with relish and other ingredients in the pot, I felt as if a sharp knife sliced open my insides and left it bleeding all over the floor. I knew no matter how kind he is now, the novelty of finding his mate will wear off. He’ll eventually succumb to the pressure of finding a suitable mate for him.

As he added a pinch of salt to the potato salad, I realized that if I had only dared to imagine that he would be this kind and accepting at first, I would have prepared myself better for this day. If he was going to flat out deny the truth and completely reject me, then I would have gone on with my day. Hurt, annoyed, and vulnerable, but at least I knew that he was that shallow to deny the connection between us as nothing just because of my human façade. But he’s not, and he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it now, as he hummed while mashing the ingredients together.

Leave my heart open to be assaulted by a barrage of guilt and regret later for choosing to find the Rosewood pack I’ve been remembering since I was young, because this isn’t the right time for people to know I am a wolf too. Albeit capable of hiding and changing my scent, but a wolf nonetheless.

I looked at the white marbled ceiling, wanting, wishing I could roar my troubles away so I could be with him when a high-pitched snort cut through Tate’s humming and the squeal of the boiling soup.

“Baby that’s a peasant’s job, that’s why she’s here,” Trisha gestured to me as she glided towards Tate like an overzealous model taken out of a runway. She raised her brows at me as she stopped at the counter in front of Tate, like I was trash thrown about.

I never really liked Trisha, with her painted and constantly sharpened nails that can scratch somebody—often me—into bloody ribbons. Out of everyone in the pack who has my inexistence every year on their Christmas wish list, Trisha had it out for me since the day I arrived. And she wouldn’t care even if the Alarick is against it. Dead is dead to them, even if she’s punished afterwards, what would that do if I really had died in her sharp hands?

“Come on baby, let’s get out of here. You promised to come shopping with me for the party tonight,” she whined, her voice reaching the pitch of nails on chalkboard. Well that’s what it sounded in my head.

Tate turned off the stove and looked at Trisha with her chic brown hair bob and her short dress that highlights her bouncy bosom and long legs. My heart felt like it was being squeezed until I couldn’t breathe for a second, wishing with all my heart that he would choose me. That he would see me for who I am and not the pathetic punching bag of a human they see me as.

And the glass of novelty in which he resided in for a couple minutes, where I breathe fresh summer air made of hope and chances that my mate would accept me no matter who I am, shattered into tiny little pieces as he nodded his head to Trisha. He strode past me quickly with his head up, and went to her, quickly capturing her lips like she was his.

Unable to breathe properly, I looked down and picked up the finished bowl of potato salad in front of me. My eyes were stinging from unshed tears, but I couldn’t break down. I wouldn’t let myself be more vulnerable than I already am at this point. There’s no need for him to see me bawl my eyes out for somebody who was never going to be mine, even if I had dreamed impossible dreams for a second. But that second acted like a tiny knife that buries further into my heart, as every moment passes that I feel him completely denying everything I am to him, and he is to me.

For the first time in my life and in history, my heart shattered into little pieces along with the bond that was supposed to tie us forever, without him saying anything.