The Autistic Alpha

Chapter 12: What she hate.

Her hands flew into the air. Imogen watched as Blake left her standing outside the villa without even turning to look back at her. What did he even mean? Was this all her fault? Did she cause it? She dragged herself towards the door. Her mind raced with thoughts.

Despite blaming him for coming to get her late, she knew deep down that she was at fault. She had left without knowing the way. And she had ended up in the forest with ten n***d guys.

"Damn." She breathed. "I'm not going back into that forest ever again."

"You know what?" Blake paused in his movements. "You can. It makes life so much easier. I won't have to lose sleep looking for you all night."

For some reason, Imogen was left wondering if he was truly an autist. Maybe he was. Maybe not. All she knew was that an autistic bastard wouldn't be saying stuff like that.

Her hands flew into the air. "Whatever. Where's the bathroom?" she asked. "Get me some clothes, by the way."

Trailing behind him, she rolled her eyes. Her steps were fast as she made her way up the stairs. Unbeknownst to her, her fate was cruel.

Blake pushed the door open, not sparing her a glance. He rolled onto the bed. His eyes closed. Not even bothering to take off his shoes. A low fart sound escaped his butt.

"Sorry about that," he said. "Get the clothes yourself. It's in the closet."

Imogen sighed, not daring to sniff the air in. The windows weren't open. Neither were the balcony doors. The aircon would make it roll through the room. She couldn't sit down calmly just to eat some awful smell from the a*s of an autist.

"Do you even care?" She shut the door behind her, walking towards the balcony doors. "You can't even push the doors open before letting out that awful smell. Like you didn't even try!"

Turning her head towards the bed, she waited for him to reply. Seconds turned into minutes, and there was no reply from him. She didn't bother waiting as she slid into the bathroom. One way or the other, she knew there was worse waiting for her...

The morning sun cast shadows at the side of the room. Imogen woke beside him. Her legs were across his face, while his were on her shoulders. The position was as if they had both fought a war during their deep slumber.

Last night, she had slept beside him despite the hate she had for him. There was nothing wrong with sharing a bed with someone as long as that person was already asleep. She would sleep with a dead person if she was really sleepy. She had no problem with anything.

Her foot connected harshly with his face, startling him out of sleep. He jumped up, staring at her with a different expression. The cold wall he usually wore had slipped off. The red eyes from last night were gone, replaced with blue ones.

She expected him to say something—like he had replied to her last night. The way he had taunted her with his fart. But he just slid out of the bed, heading towards the bathroom.

Dressed in his huge white shirt, her skin was slick and tender, soft beneath the golden gaze of the morning beam.

"Weird," she mumbled.

Tilting her head to the side, she lifted her leg, lowering it again with the same force she had used on him.

"How hadn't he felt that?" she asked herself.

Maybe it was his wolf side. Lowering her gaze, she clutched the hem of the white shirt she wore. The shirt made her look a bit tiny. It was so huge she couldn't believe it would fit perfectly on him. The man she woke up to see wasn't this big.

She waited for him to come out of the bathroom. Her eyes glued on his perfect figure—fitted torso, tight muscles, wet hair. And different from the morning, his eyes were back to the old form: crimson eyes.

"Now get your a*s out of that bed," he said. "You don't deserve it."

She rolled her eyes, dragging herself out of the bed. "If I don't deserve it, then get me out of your kingdom."

"Just get the hell up. You're going out with me for a meeting. The maids will get you something to wear."

"No can do for the maids. I saw some dresses in your closet. I'd wear those."

The frigid embrace from the cold marble gave her feet out. She didn't wait for him to say another word before getting into the bathroom.

"Another great smell for the morning," she mumbled. Her back arched slightly. She stared at the bathtub. Hopefully, there would be some dirt she could complain about.

She was done using the bathroom. And just like last night, it was a great feeling. She didn't have to complain about hair being everywhere. It was so tidy, it didn't look as if he had stepped foot in there.

Despite not wanting to go out with him, she didn't also want to stay here—in these four walls with no one to argue with.

In his closet, she pulled out a pair of black gurkha trousers and a white long-sleeved polo unapologetically. Tucking them on as if they were hers. Dropping her hair, letting it spill across her shoulders.

"I'm done. Shall we move?"

"Promise me you won't run off this time. I have a whole lot to do. And it can't be ruined because someone is forcing me to look for you." He strode towards the door, twisting the doorknob.

"For today. Yes. I promise," she said.

It was a debt, and she couldn't fail it. She knew deep down in herself that her life would be a mess today. And she was ready to ruin others.

"Secondly, inform your maids to not bring heels. A pair of shoes that would go with these." Her hands swayed dramatically.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"No, I'm not. I hate you. Not your things. So... get it done." She walked past him since he had the door opened for her already.