Fated To The Alpha (Complete Fated Series collection)

Book 3 Chapter 5-2

Sage POV

That woman said he wouldn't hurt me; Sierra wanted to take him up on the offer to shower because she wanted to rest from being in this form constantly. I try to take back control as she comes out from under the bed. She popped her head out the bedroom door, looking toward the stairs, yet I could hear the TV was on downstairs, and I couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Sierra, go back,” I tell her when she steps into the hall.

“I don’t think he is like them,” Sierra tells me.

“We don't even know him, stop being blinded by the bond,” I tell her, but she ignores me instead, suddenly shifting back and retreating, her voice a soft murmur in my head.

“We can shift back if he tries anything,” she tells me, but I was too busy dashing for the bathroom, my breathing heavy as I closed the door, locking it. Goosebumps rise on my arms, my skin exposed to the air, making me cold.

I stared at the door, wondering if he would come in; the thought petrified me. My heart is racing in my chest. I wait a few seconds before looking around the bathroom. I found some clothes on the counter, two towels, and socks. Turning, I looked at the shower, yet it didn’t have any taps to turn it on. The bathroom was nice and clean; I could smell the cleaning chemicals like it had recently been cleaned; it smelt the same as the basement and made my nose burn and eyes water from the toxic scent.

I wave my hand under the showerhead before turning it. “How does it work?” I asked Sierra before feeling her peer out; she seemed just as confused.

Hearing footsteps, I tense before hearing a knock on the door. “Let me shift,” I tell Sierra, but she shakes her head. Has she already forgotten what they have done to us? How could she leave me vulnerable in this form?

“There is a door separating you, and if he wanted to get in, he wouldn’t have knocked,” My wolf tells me. I think for a second, she did have a point. He knocks again.

“Answer him,” My wolf urges.

“Sage, is everything okay?” Andrei asks; everything slows down except the fast fluttering of my heart as panic takes over. My arms and legs feel like dead weight.

“Sage?” he asks again. I grip the door handle to make sure it is locked, the knob rattling in my shaky hands, yet it was still locked.

“I can’t turn it on,” I tell him, though my voice sounded so small, I wasn’t sure if he heard.

“Next to the light switch is a black panel, tap on it,” he says; I look for the black panel he mentioned and find it. I tap on it, my fingers shaking uncontrollably.

“You find it?” He asks; I nod before realizing he couldn’t see me.

“Yes,” I tell him.

“There is a circle with a line through it, press it, and a showerhead will pop up on the screen then press on it, the water should be at the correct temperature,” he explains. I do what he says before hearing the spray shoot out of the showerhead.

“I will be downstairs. I put an extra toothbrush in the shower niche already; come down when you are done for tea, please,” he says, and I hear him walk off. As he said before stepping under the spray, I place my hand under the water and find the temperature good.

I sigh, feeling the hot water, much better than the streams and creeks. I grabbed the soap and lathered my skin, the water turning brown as it ran down the drain; my hair was a matted mess, and I took three washes before it was somewhat clean looking. I brushed my teeth and just stood under the water, enjoying the warmth and the feel of being clean. My neck was still aching, and I don’t think it would ever stop me from having the chain so tight against my flesh for the last 11 years. I rubbed it, and despite spending most of my time in wolf form, I could feel the ridges in my skin from where it sat pressed against my skin.

Getting out, I rub a hand over the large mirror. My hair was still knotted, and I couldn’t find a brush anywhere, so I tried to untangle it with my fingers but gave up. I looked different; I can’t remember the last time I looked in a mirror, probably before they took us. I looked like my mother, or I think I did; my memory of her was a little grainy these days. Felt like a lifetime ago that she was here.

Staring at the scar that ran the length of my face, it marred one side of my face. I could still feel the heat in the blade as he held it over the fire before dragging the blade down my face as he tried to get my mother to shift back. Looking away, I try to shove the memory away and turn toward the edge of the sink basin. I pick up the clothes he left, sniff them, and smell his scent all over them. I dry myself, my fingers trailing over my ruined body. No, there weren't many parts of me that weren't scarred or disfigured in some way when I was clean.

“Don’t look,” Sierra tells me.

“How can I not? Look at them,” I tell her.

“Everyone has a past; ours just shows on our skin.”

”It’s not the past; we are still in the same mess with a new monster,” I tell her, but she shakes her head.

“We don’t know that” she says as I pull the shirt over my head. I then grab the pants and socks, putting them on only for the pants to fall to my feet the moment I stand up straight. I even tried to roll them, but they were massive on my frame.

“We can walk around like this, Sierra; let me shift back, please,” I beg, her tears brimming in my eyes, knowing I would be pants less with them falling down.

“No, Sage. I am tired. I need to rest, please. If he tries anything, I will shift, but until then, just wait and see what happens. His wolf is nice; I don’t think he is like the other men,” she says.

It was hopeless that she wasn’t going to help until he tried to kill me. I feel anger at her simmer within me as I reach for the door handle and open the door.

“Something smells nice, better than the rodents we usually eat,” she says; how could she trust him so blindly? She was acting like a lovesick pup; how could she forget he is a man?

I feel her urging me toward the stairs, and I look over the banister but don’t see him. Clutching the pants to hold them up, I walk down the steps. The TV was still on, and the soft murmurs of voices filled the living room. I stick my head around the corner to see if he is in the huge room. He wasn’t in there; turning around, I found him directly behind me though he didn't move, and I nearly had a heart attack. He moved that silently. I didn’t hear him come up behind me.

“I sent someone to get you some clothes. Come, tea is ready,” he says before suddenly turning away and walking off.

“See, he could have killed you before you even noticed; he didn’t; maybe he isn’t that bad.”

“That’s what mum and dad thought when they let those three men in our camp, look how that turned out they are dead, and I am alone,” I tell her. Yet she didn’t agree, following the smell of what he was cooking. I stepped into the kitchen; he bent over and got something out of the oven.

“There are drinks in the fridge if you're thirsty,” he says though he keeps his back to me. That irritated me because he knew I was no threat to him. I was no threat to anyone. I would never turn my back to anyone. No one can be trusted.

“You can sit down,” he says, turning around to face me. His eyes dart down to where I am clutching his pants, trying to keep them up.

“Sit please, talk, anything instead of staring at me like I am about to kill you,” he says, pointing to the dining table. I walked over to it, sitting down in the chair that faced him.

“How old are you?” He asks, grabbing some plates done from the cupboards.

“It's your age, can’t hurt you by asking questions,” he mutters, but I still heard him.

“23, I think,” I tell him, and he nods.

“I’m 28,” he tells me. I nod, was I supposed to care about age? Was that important?

“You had a mate?” He asks. Barely I thought to myself, that was over as quick as I met him. I say nothing.

“How long were you with those people?” He finally finishes before looking at me.

“Too long,” I tell him, looking out the windows. I tried them already. They have no opening and are made of perspex.

“Why don't you have windows?” I ask him and his eyes dart to them.

“So, people can’t get in or out,” I mutter.

“That is the other reason, but my last mate was killed because people got in the house, so I built this place. It is safer,” he says before suddenly walking over toward me. I jump up the chair, falling and hitting the ground behind me.

“Um” He clears his throat, his head turning upwards.

“Your pants,” he says, and I look down before scrambling to get them up my legs. I move to grab the fallen chair.

“I won’t hurt you, here, eat,” he says, sliding a plate to me. He places his down before moving to the fridge and opening it. He grabs something before turning around and handing me a bottle of water. He waves it at me, and I take it quickly.

I watch as he sits down before doing the same.