Bleed Me Dry, Alpha

Chapter 3

But first, I need to gather myself, or I won’t get better. By some delicate miracle, I manage to stand in the shower long enough to rub the soap over my skin. My heavy arms feel leaden as I struggle to wash my hair. Crying softly, I lean my head against the tile wall as shampoo drips into my eyes, my arms too heavy to brush it away.

Cutting the shower short, I stumble into the bedroom and lie on the ground, doing my best to pull on a pair of warm yoga pants and two shirts. I’m so cold. Werewolves naturally run hotter than humans, and yet here I am shivering. Reaching for the thickest sweater I can find, I wrap that around myself as well, hoping I can keep some of my body heat as my body struggles to heal.

After doing my best to cover the sunken bruises around my eyes with several thick layers of makeup, I pull my limp curls back into a tight ponytail and force myself to leave the room and down the stairs where I find Logan and Eloise already waiting, glasses of wine in their hands.

“Oh look,” Eloise smiles over her shoulder, “She’s finally awake.”

“About damn time,” Logan growls unsympathetically as he watches me stumble into the room. “We’re both starving. What were you planning on making us for dinner?”

Blinking, I tilt my head as I lean my hand on the table. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand.”

“I sent the servants home last night,” Logan explains as he sits there with his arms across his chest. Eloise places a perfectly manicured pale hand on his arm, smiling from my chair at the table, the spot reserved for the luna. “So you’ll need to cook for the three of us.”

“I need to rest,” I lean forward, dizzy from lack of food. Without anything going into my body in the last 24 hours, I haven’t been able to recover from the extreme blood loss. “I haven’t eaten and…I might need a doctor.”

“Stop,” Logan raises his hand dismissively. “You’re obviously fine or you wouldn’t be standing here whining. Somebody has to make dinner. You’re the obvious choice. You don’t expect Eloise to do it, do you,” He glares at me, daring me to contradict him.

“No, actually,” my hackles raise as my body fills with righteous anger. “She’s injured and I’m drained. I expect you to do it.”

Logan slams his fist on the table and stands, his eyes glowing angrily. “I’m here taking care of Eloise and seeing to her comfort because she’s injured, and you’re over there complaining like a spoiled brat.

“I’m tired too, Logan!” My chest feels tight as my body burns, and I feel flush with heat from my chest to the tips of my ears. “You know what, fine, I’ll make dinner, but don’t complain if it isn’t what you want,” I snap, not giving him a chance to say anything in return.

As I leave the room I hear Eloise’s crystalline giggle and I turn my head to see him kissing her fingertips gently, while I sludge forward to follow his command, my vision blurred with unshed tears.

Using the back of my hand to wipe my eyes, I push open the kitchen door.

My body hurts almost as much as my heart that continues to shatter and break. I thought I was done letting him hurt me last night when he seemed happy enough to kill me to save her, but it seems a part of me still cares that he treats her more like a wife than he ever treated me, even though I’m the one he married. I’m his wife, not his slave, but in moments like these, it is clear he has forgotten.

Looking around the kitchen, I try to find something I can make quickly to feed myself and the others something warm, nutritious, and filling. Finding two large cans of tomato soup, a large loaf of bread, and a block of cheese, I whip up an old favorite of mine from childhood–grilled cheese and tomato soup.

Sometimes, when my brother didn’t hate me completely and he was in a warm and generous mood, he’d make me a bowl of tomato soup when I was sick or feeling sad. “Here,” he’d say, “Tomato soup can cure anything. Mom always said it did, anyway.”

My mom…She was the perfect mother, always patient and kind. She was also the perfect wife, always willing to sacrifice her comfort and happiness so that she could support her husband, the beta of Moonstone Pack, so that he could support the alpha and the rest of the pack.

They were happy. And then my mother became pregnant and everything changed. She had a rare genetic disorder that led to her having a very weak heart. When she had my brother, she had been 10 years younger and her body was better able to handle the stresses of carrying a child to term and childbirth. By the time she became pregnant with me, her heart condition had gotten worse. The pack doctor recommended bed rest, but she didn’t listen. She pushed too hard for too long. And then, when the time came for me to be born, I was too stubborn. After three days of labor, they cut me from her cooling body, her heart having burst while she tried to push me into life.

Darius was only 10 when he lost her. I think he wanted to love me, but he also missed our mother. So every time he’d do something sweet for me, he’d remember her and his expression would sour and he’d say something mean about how I’d know all about our mom if I hadn’t killed her, reminding me once again why I’m unworthy of love.

Twenty minutes later, I walk back into the dining room to find Eloise sitting in my husband’s lap. He has taken a handful of grapes from the table’s fruit basket to feed Eloise one grape at a time after peeling the skins so that she doesn’t choke.

Setting down the tray, I place a bowl of soup and a half-sandwich down for each of them. As I reach down for my own bowl, Logan coughs, drawing his attention back to me. Curling his lip, he demands that I feed Eloise the soup, using her weakened state as his excuse.

“What’s this,” Logan looks down at the food I’ve prepared, his lip curling. “Are you trying to starve us?”

I refuse to rise to his bait. He wants to make me angry so I look like the bad guy. So instead I smile my brightest smile and reply, “It's dinner. Tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.”

Logan openly mocks my choices, telling me that it is “food for children” and that he refuses to eat something one would make for a child.

“It’s the best I can do!” I shout back, hitting the table weakly. “I haven’t eaten, I’m exhausted, and for some brilliant reason you decided to tell the servants to go home!” My voice is getting louder as I continue, my anger finally free. “I need help too, Logan. I might need to go to the hospital.”

“Ow!” Eloise exclaims as she reaches forward to pick up one of the ceramic bowls. “The soup is so hot. Look, Logan, the bowl burned me.”

Eloise holds out her hand, which looks like a normal shade of pink, but when Logan sees it his eyes widen in true fear. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“You’re taking her to the hospital because her hand is sore?” I gape at Logan. “You can’t be serious. She’s fine!”

“Are you really so heartless?” he demands. “Eloise is a lot more sensitive than you. You know, you’re so self-centered. Not everyone is like you.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with her!” I point at Eloise. “She’s faking it!”

“Why would she lie,” Logan hisses as he holds onto his mistress a bit tighter, glaring at me like I might strike out at any moment. “Eloise has always been truthful. You on the other hand can’t be trusted.”

“I can’t be trusted!” I gape, as another hot wave of anger washes over me and I find myself feeling bold. “You know what, Logan Skye, I don’t care what you believe or what you do anymore, I’m done with you! I’m done with her! I’m done with all of this!”

Leaving them staring after me, I open the door to the kitchen, slamming it behind me hard enough to make picture frames rattle in my wake. Taking the stairs two at a time, I approach my room, expecting to hear Logan’s footsteps as he comes to admonish me for my behavior and berate me for being so useless.

But he doesn’t. Five minutes later I hear his car door slam and the engine roar to life as he rushes down the mountain to take Eloise to the hospital for a minor burn.

This is too much. Even if he doesn’t accidentally kill me someday because he thinks that his girlfriend needs my blood more than I do, If I stay here he’ll continue to find new ways to humiliate and embarrass me.

And then once our child is born, I can only imagine how much worse everything will become.

I have to get out of here, but how?

A thought occurs to me. I need someone I can trust, someone with enough knowledge to help me sort my difficult situation.

Picking up my phone, I flip through my numbers until I find the name I’m looking for–Andrew Thomas, lead Delta of Moonstone Pack. He worked side by side with my father and was always kind to me.

Pacing the floor, I listen to the phone ringing. “Please let him be there, please let him be there. “ Nobody answers, so I pick up the phone and try again.

Mr. Thomas picks up after one ring. “Annalise, it’s been so long! How are things in the Crimson Sky pack?”

I don’t have time for small talk. I want to leave this place and make my own way.

“Mr. Thomas, I need help divorcing my husband.”