The Man In The Alpha
1017 Words
Ariselle’s POV
I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the phantom pressure of Caelan’s hands on my waist from the sparring pit.
My skin felt too tight for my body. I needed to move, to think, to find some reason to keep hating him that didn't involve how his scent made my head swim.
I headed for the library. I needed to look at the border scrolls myself. If I was going to be tied to Nightfall, I wanted to know every inch of the land I was supposedly protecting.
If he succeeded in making me leave with him to Moonhill, then I'll be living in, and protecting Moonhill before I even thought of Ironcrest.
The library doors were ajar. A single candle flickered on the center table, casting long, dancing shadows against the rows of books.
Caelan was there.
He wasn't reading. He was standing by the table, his shoulders slumped in a way I had never seen. He looked vulnerable, somehow. Less like a king and more like a man. In his hand, he held a small wooden frame. He was staring at it so intensely he didn't even notice me walk in.
"I didn't think Alphas spent their nights brooding in the dark," I said quietly.
He didn't jump. He just slowly lowered the frame. "It isn't brooding when the weight of two packs is trying to crush your chest, Ariselle."
I walked closer, my boots silent on the rug. I looked at the portrait. It was Alpha Thorne.
"He looks like you. Around the eyes."
"He was a better man," Caelan whispered. He didn't look at me. He kept his gaze on the painted face.
"He died thinking I was still the rebellious son who didn't want his throne but was simply leading because no one else would do it better. Now I’m sitting in his chair, wearing his ring, and realizing I never told him I understood why he was so hard on me."
I felt a sharp pang in my chest. It wasn't the anger I was used to. It was empathy, and it felt dangerous.
"My father is hard on me too," I said, stepping into the circle of candlelight.
"He expects perfection because he knows the world won't give us anything less. Your father didn't doubt you, Caelan. He wouldn't have handed you his pack long before he passed, if he did."
Caelan finally looked at me. The coldness was gone. His eyes were bloodshot and raw.
"I feel like I’m drowning. Every decision I make feels like I’m betraying him or betraying myself."
"You're just leading," I said softly. I reached out, my hand moving before I could stop it. I placed my fingers on his forearm. The heat was instant.
"It's not supposed to be easy."
He looked down at my hand, then back at my face. The grief in his eyes shifted, darkening into a need that made my breath hitch. He wasn't looking at me like a warrior he wanted to tame. He was looking at me like I was the only thing keeping him upright.
Would he have crumbled to the ground and cried over his father if I hadn't showed up when I did?
He reached out. His hand was steady as it moved toward my face. He tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear, his knuckles brushing against my cheek. I felt a jolt of electricity down my spine. I should have pulled away. I should have snapped at him.
But I stayed. I leaned into his touch, my heart thudding against my ribs like a trapped bird.
His eyes dropped to my lips. He leaned in, just a fraction. He was the only thing I could smell now. His breath was on my face and I didn't want him to pull away.
But then, he froze.
His eyes went wide, but he wasn't looking at me anymore. He was looking through me. His hand jerked away from my face as if my skin had turned to fire.
"What is it?" I asked, my voice trembling.
His face transformed. The vulnerability vanished, replaced by a mask of cold ice. He stepped back, putting several feet of distance between us.
"Why are you creeping around in the dark, Ariselle?" he snapped. His voice was loud and harsh, completely devoid of the softness from a moment ago.
I blinked, the whiplash making my head spin.
"I wasn't creeping. I came to check the scrolls. You were the one talking about your father."
"I don't need your pity," he spat. He shoved the portrait into his pocket and began slamming the scrolls shut.
"And I certainly don't need a girl following me into libraries trying to play at being a healer. Get out."
"A girl?" I felt the anger flare up, hot and familiar. "Five minutes ago you were practically begging for someone to listen to you. Now you're back to being a prick because you're scared of a little honesty?"
"I’m not scared of anything," he growled. He stepped into my space, but this time it felt like an attack.
"I’m an Alpha. I have work to do. I don't have time for your games or your questions. Go back to your room and stay there."
"You're a coward, Caelan," I said, my voice low and dangerous.
"You're so terrified of feeling something that you'd rather be a monster. Fine. Enjoy the silence."
I turned on my heel and marched toward the door.
"And Ariselle," he called out.
I stopped, hand on the handle.
"Don't do it again," he said. "Don't try to find the man inside the Alpha. There's nothing there for you."
"I wouldn't want him anyway," I lied.
I slammed the door behind me. I walked down the hallway, my hands shaking and my blood boiling. I cursed him under my breath with every step. He was a shitty person. He was a broken, arrogant, impossible man.
And the worst part was, I could still feel the heat of his fingers on my skin.
- Writer
