Chapter Fourteen
1443 Words
I turned my head away from him, ashamed that I looked pathetic in front of him.
He stood and stalked to one of the trees, pulling out a bag of clothes.
My face flared with heat, and they burned red at his exposed skin. He adorned a shirt and pants in no time before returning, his face twisted in deep thought.
The King placed one hand against my back and the other at the back of my knees and lifted me up in his arms like I weighed nothing.
I inhaled sharply at the third time he was picking me up this way.
My heart was running a marathon, and I knew he could hear.
I resigned from fighting him and held still, hesitantly placing my head against his chest, my nose taking in his scent. We both remained in silence, and my ears focused on the rhythm of his heartbeat, and I sighed in content.
I ignored the part of my mind that warned me not to feel that way.
I didn't know I had fallen asleep halfway back to the main pack grounds until distinct chatter pulled me awake.
“They do this every night after dinner,” the King's low voice rumbled, like he felt the need to fill up the dark silent night.
“Hmm,” I mumbled tiredly.
“You were supposed to be in your cottage,” he spoke again, and my back stiffened.
I swallowed hard, speaking slowly. “I needed some fresh air.”
“I know you were there.” My blood spiked up.
I remained silent and tense, not saying a word. The King went silent too for a while.
“How did you get away?” he asked gently.
“What?” I croaked.
“I saw you running. I wanted to go after, but then you vanished without a trace. I lost your scent.” He blew out a breath. “We've all been searching for you.”
My brows knitted close to each other. “We?” I murmured.
“Melanie, Aria, Hayes, and Rune.” My brows knitted even tighter in worry.
“I hope I didn't make them worry.” I sighed heavily, my face turning solemn in guilt.
“They know you've been found now,” the King whispered.
“I’m sorry,” I croaked out. They didn't owe me anything for the care they displayed, and I only just met them.
Thankfully, the way back to the cottage was quiet and empty. The King and I remained silent until he headed into the cottage.
His scent filled the air, overwhelming me.
He reached the bed and set me down onto it carefully, but I let out a loud wince. My legs now felt even more sore than before, and there was a pain pulsing on my side. The rest were only small burning scratches littered all over my body.
The King stood to his full height, towering over me and making the room feel smaller than normal.
I waited for him to leave, but he turned to pull out equipment from the drawers.
“W-where’s Elder Isolde?” I murmured, not looking in his direction.
“I can take care of it,” he grated out.
I wanted to protest, but the stormy look in his eyes shut my mouth.
He picked up a white towel and pulled a chair towards the bed before lowering his large frame onto it.
I hissed loudly the moment he picked my leg up from its position on the bed.
His fingers caressed my wounded calf to ease the pain, and my skin trembled in relief underneath his palm.
He cleansed my wound carefully, and I leaned onto the bed, forcing my body to forget his roaming arms and eyes.
“Where are your parents?” the King suddenly asked out of nowhere.
I stole a glance in his direction. “Dead,” I said.
“No.” My brows creased. “Your real parents, Valerie.” My name rolled out of his lips, and my legs clenched on their own.
The King's eyes snapped up to meet mine, and I looked away from him. But my skin prickled from his heated gaze. I felt his hands clench into tight fists and his nose sniffing into the air. My chest clenched too.
“I-I-I have no idea,” I said quickly, hoping to divert his attention from whatever that sizzling tension in the air was.
He cleared his throat before his eyes focused back on my injury. “You never met them?” he asked in a low voice.
I bit back a wince as I shook my head at him. I knew nothing of my birth parents.
I never met them, never knew who they were or where they were from or what happened to them, and I learned to forget they existed. I often had questions, and there was no one to answer them. I made peace with it a long time ago.
My adopted parents avoided talking about how I ended up on the Ravenwood pack borders, but I heard the whispers.
I was abandoned. Even my own parents didn't want me.
“W-what are you doing?” My eyes widened. The King picked up a short knife from his shorts and sliced his own hand.
He squeezed his blood into my injury. “It will heal faster.”
I let out a breath of relief when he was done wrapping up my wound.
I needed him gone so I could gather my thoughts.
“What you heard—” he started, his hot gaze boring into my eyes, and they flashed with confliction before he looked away from me.
“You'll be appointed a place here to be of service to Elder Isolde.” A lump got stuck in my throat at his words.
“W-what if I want to leave?” I asked, my voice so bare I almost doubted he heard me.
“No.” A feral growl ripped from his chest, and I flinched back, my muscles tight and tense.
He didn't have to be so rude about it.
I had nowhere else to go, but I could feel it in my gut—the smell of danger burning deep within—but I didn't know who I was more afraid of.
Myself or...
Him.
I did not want to go through the same thing a second time. They’d eventually find out what happened in my former pack and begin to point fingers at me for every catastrophe, and worse, I'd be convinced I was responsible.
I didn’t want to carry that suffocating burden and feeling of guilt over things I had no control of.
This was the Royal pack. They answered to no one. My fate would be excruciating, and so would the rest of my life if I did not get out.
The King's eyes flashed between his wolf and human side, his exposed muscles taut and tense as he fought for control, and I leaned deeper into the bed, afraid to make any sound.
His eyes turned back to his bright honey-brown ones, and he began to pace around the small cottage, his shoulders rigid and his hands in tight fists.
He gripped onto his pitch-black hair tightly and let out another menacing growl.
“You cannot leave,” he breathed, and I let out a whimper in fear.
He closed his eyes and peeled them back open.
“I need to know how you're doing. I need you close by. It's the only way he’ll remain calm.” He rambled on, his face scrunching like he was in pain, and I hugged my body, leaning tighter into the bed.
He settled back down in his chair slowly, and his eyes went from intense and wild to calm. If I didn't know better, I would have thought I imagined it.
What was going on?
What did he mean?
I didn’t think I heard a rumour about a mad King.
The pain in my leg had numbed and lessened by a great difference.
My eyes lit in awe. Did he do the same when he saved me from my pack?
The King's nose lifted in the air, and his eyes moved to assess me. He stood in his full length and walked with speed to my other side. He abruptly lifted my top off, exposing my gruesome injury on my side.
His nose flared in displeasure.
It didn’t feel as bad as it looked.
“I’m taking your shirt off.” Air was knocked out of my lungs.
“What?”
- Writer
