Sentenced to The Ruthless Alpha

Chapter 24: The Wrong Kind of Kiss

Thora POV

"It's going to be a full moon tonight. Let's see if he'll still want you anywhere close when you smell like his worst nightmare."

The threat haunted Thora all day, even as she fell into place beside the other omegas on kitchen duty. The dining hall roared with laughter and chatter, cutlery clacking against porcelain in a chaotic rhythm. Even in the hall, hierarchy ruled. It determined who sat at the tables, the order in which they were served and how large their meals spread.

Thora kept stealing glances from the kitchen doorway. Alpha Roman lounged at the head of the table, idly swirling a glass of wine while he half-listened to Dax.

Penny and the other night wolves sat ramrod straight, a posture less about discipline and more about being seen. Their meals were barely touched. Penny's gaze cut through the room with an arrogant air. They only softened when it landed on Roman, her lashes fluttering with practiced sweetness.

Across from the alpha, Regan ladled soup onto Matilda's plate and quietly cackled at something the pack doctor murmured beside him. The doctor's usual white robe had been traded for something softer and more casual today.

The noise of the hall did nothing to drown Thora's spiraling thoughts. What was a full moon? What was the alpha’s his worst nightmare? And what exactly had that powder been?

That morning, she'd scrubbed her skin raw in Matilda's bathroom, half-expecting warts and sores to bloom across it. The itching and swelling never happened, just clean skin and a racing heart. Too uncomfortable to explain everything that had happened in the alpha’s room, she never worked up the courage to talk to Matilda about it.

Her discomfort lasted an hour before her restraint cracked.

"Do I smell weird to you?"

Matilda tipped her head, brow furrowing. "What?"

"I mean…do I smell different?" Thora wrung her hands, heart hammering as she waited. "Did you notice anything strange on me, earlier, when I came to use your bathroom? Did I smell different from my usual scent?"

Matilda's mouth opened, and for one breathless second, Thora thought she might actually answer. Instead, the old woman shook her head. "Don't get distracted, human. The alpha stands for truth and always uphold our laws. There was nothing more to his actions yesterday." Her gaze swept over Thora, assessing. "Reading meaning into his protection or chasing after him will bring you nothing but trouble in a place like this."

Heat rushed to Thora's cheeks. Of course. His scent had clung to her too after the stunt he pulled last night, kissing and grabbing her.

She waved her hands, desperate to clarify. "No. No, it's not like that. Nothing ha…"

The look Matilda gave her killed the rest of the sentence in her throat.

"Enough talking. There's work to be done." Matilda's voice sharpened into something businesslike. "The Culling ceremony is fast approaching. We'll see no shortage of injuries once it begins. The hospital will be stretched thin. We need a month's supply of healing salves and other treatments ready to help treat sprains, fractures, and the usual c*****e that results from the ceremony."

Thora nodded and swallowed her questions. She told herself that if a witch and herbalist as sharp as Matilda hadn't caught so much as a whiff of dangerous scent on her, then Penny had to be bluffing. It probably was just another attempt to scare her into staying away from Roman.

But later in the day, the doubt crept back in, fed by whispers among the omegas on kitchen duty. She overheard fragments of their quiet conversations about the coming full moon. It sounded like it meant something serious.

Thora's knife stilled over the cutting board. If Penny hadn't lied about the full moon, was everything else true? What was in the powder? What would happen if she got too close to the alpha?

She exhaled slowly, steadying herself, and tried to recall exactly how the powder had felt against her skin, what it had smelled like beneath the sting. She made a mental note to find and ask Regan later.

"Here." Gio shoved a tray into her hands and didn't let go until her fingers closed around it. "Take that to Alpha Roman."

Her stomach dropped. "What? I'm on meal prep, not serving."

His eyes burned into hers. Ever since he'd claimed Rhea's old position as head of the omegas, he'd made it his personal mission to ensure Thora suffered worse under his rule than she ever had under Rhea's.

"Oh, you think you get to pick your chores now? You think the alpha punishing Rhea makes you special to him?" His lip curled. "You think you've got the Valcourt brothers wrapped around your finger, human scum?"

"What?" Her jaw fell open.

The others murmured, exchanging looks sharp enough to cut.

"Dream on," Gio sneered. "Wolves will always be wolves. A human will never be more than a piss poor joke." Ugly and delighted laughter rippled through the kitchen at Gio's cruelty.

"Go do as you're told!" a girl snapped.

"Move it!" another shrilled.

Thora forced herself to breathe, gripped the tray tighter, and stepped into the dining hall. She made it only a few paces before faltering. Penny's eyes had already found her, curling into a slow, satisfied smile. The air seemed to thin. Every face at the long table turned toward the human standing frozen at the edge of the room.

Sweat prickled along her hairline. She glanced down at the tray and realized, with a sinking feeling, that she had no idea what she was even carrying. That was probably her first mistake. For all she knew, this was Penny's doing, another trap laid for her, merely hours after she'd narrowly escaped Cecily’s.

She kept walking. Just as Penny slid a sly glance toward Roman, Thora veered sharply toward a table of teenagers instead, setting the tray down with hands that slightly trembled. She busied herself stacking empty dishes, wiping at rings of spilled water, anything to look occupied.

She secretly counted on their insolence, and the teenagers didn't disappoint. One of the boys "accidentally" knocked the tray, and only sheer reflex from Thora’s fingers saved it from crashing to the floor. However, the dish balanced on top wasn't so lucky. It slid free and a pie splattered against the tile.

Thora bit back a gasp. The teens sauntered off laughing while she dropped to her knees and cleaned up the mess alone, careful not to meet Gio's glare from the doorway.

He punished her later for her clumsiness. She was stuck washing all the dishes and pots until the sun dipped low. By the time she was done, her knuckles turned raw and stung. Her nails cracked from the scalding water.

She caught sight of the sunset through the kitchen window and felt dread pool low in her stomach. Night was coming, and she still didn't know where she'd sleep.

Roman had said something about making alternative arrangements for her. But after Penny's voodoo act, she was too scared to go within ten feet of him. That, and because the memory of that kiss still hummed beneath her skin, unresolved and mortifying in equal measure.

She shoved the thought down and headed for her final chore of the day. The moment she opened the door, the smell of the room hit her first; thick, animal, unmistakably male. It was sweat gone sour with exertion, mixed with the metallic tang of blood. As she moved further inside, an undercurrent of something wilder and muskier flooded her nose. She couldn't name it but it made the hair on her arms rise.

This was the training hall, where the pack's young men spent their afternoons preparing for the Culling. Dark stains marked the walls. Broken practice weapons littered the floor from earlier violence.

Thora exhaled through her mouth. The place was a wreck. Overturned water buckets. Torn strips of cloth that might once have been shirts. A boot, abandoned and alone, as if its owner had simply run out of it.

She started gathering the debris into a pile, arms already trembling with fatigue, her mind numb enough now that she barely registered the ache in her bones.

That was when she heard it. A wet, ragged sound, like breath fighting its way out. She froze, straining her ears to place it. It came again, closer to the far wall, choked and desperate.

"Hello?" Her voice cracked against the silence.

She dropped the armful of rags and followed the sound, weaving between overturned benches until she found him. A man was sprawled near the weapons rack, one hand closed over his own throat, chest heaving in shallow, useless gasps. His lips had already gone faintly blue.

"Oh God…" She dropped to her knees beside him. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Her hands shook as they felt his body for obvious injury. She saw none. She didn't know the first thing about werewolf physiology, whether this was normal, whether touching him would make it worse.

"Hey… hey, can you hear me? How can I help?"

His eyes found hers, wide and glassy with panic. They silently pleaded.

She scrambled upright. "I'll get help. Keep your eyes open, okay? I'm going to get help…" She'd made it two steps toward the door when the sound behind her stopped entirely. No wheeze or gasp. Nothing.

Thora spun back. His chest had gone still. His hands were slack against the ground. Every thought in her head dissolved into a single, animal spike of terror. He's not breathing. He's not breathing and I don't know what to do and if I run for help he'll be dead before anyone gets here.

She dropped back to his side, hands shaking so hard she could barely find his sternum. She'd seen this once, years ago, on a screen in a health class she'd half paid attention to. Interlace your fingers. Push hard. Push fast.

"s**t. Why does trouble always find me?" she whispered before she pressed both palms against his chest, throwing her whole weight into the first compression. "Don't you dare die on me. They’d blame me again and you know it."

She found a rhythm, counting under her breath. Sweat slid down her spine. Her arms were already screaming in protest.

She did the compressions just like she remembered. She tipped his chin up, pinched his nose shut, and lowered her mouth over his to breathe air into his lungs. Her lips sealed against his, her hand cupping his jaw to keep his airway open. For a few seconds, she willed air into a body that wouldn't take it.

She pulled back, dropped her palms to his sternum, and started the count again. The terrible, silent stillness beneath her hands didn’t make her hope waver.

She didn't hear the door, or the footsteps. She only heard the roar of blood in her own ears as she continued to pump air into his mouth.

A voice cracked through the training hall like a whip.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Thora's head snapped up, and the breath froze in her throat.