After
887 Words
Dawn came cold.
I woke to an empty floor. Draven was gone. Again.
My lips still burned from his kiss. My thighs still ached where he'd held me. I pressed my fingers to my mouth, like I could hold the memory in.
Stupid.
I dressed fast and went to find him.
The packhouse was quiet. Wolves moved around me with their heads down, not meeting my eyes. Word had spread. They'd heard us in the woods. They'd smelled it on me when I walked back in last night.
I hated that they knew.
I found Draven in his office. Door shut. Marcus standing guard outside.
"Is he-"
"Don't," Marcus said. He didn't look at me. "He doesn't want to see you."
My chest tightened. "I need to talk to him."
"No, you don't." Marcus finally looked at me. His eyes were hard. "You kissed him under the moon, Lila. You pushed him. You know what that does to an Alpha."
"I didn't-"
"You did." He cut me off. "And now he's in there, tearing himself apart because he almost took you. Because he couldn't stop."
I flinched.
"Stay away from him today," Marcus said. "For his sake. And yours."
He walked off. Leaving me standing there with my hand raised to knock on a door that wouldn't open.
I didn't eat that day. I couldn't.
I stayed in the room, staring at the wall, listening for footsteps. He didn't come back.
Night fell.
When the door finally opened, it wasn't Draven. It was Elara, the healer.
"Pack meeting," she said quietly. "Now."
I followed her to the hall.
The pack was already gathered. Fifty wolves, standing in a circle. Draven stood in the center.
He looked wrecked. Dark circles under his eyes. His shirt wrinkled. But his back was straight. His eyes were grey again. Controlled.
He didn't look at me.
"Last night," he said, voice carrying, "I lost control."
Silence.
"The moon affects us all," he continued. "But an Alpha is supposed to lead. Not follow his urges. Not put his mate in danger."
My breath caught. Mate. He'd said it out loud.
"I failed," he said. "And for that, I will take punishment."
Marcus stepped forward. "Alpha-"
"I said I will take punishment." Draven's voice cracked like a whip.
He unbuckled his shirt. Dropped it to the floor. His back was a map of scars, old and new.
"Ten lashes," he said. "For losing control."
My stomach dropped.
"Alpha, no," someone murmured.
He didn't answer. He turned, bracing his hands on the table.
Marcus picked up the whip. His face was stone.
"Don't," I said. The word slipped out before I could stop it.
Draven's head turned slightly. He still didn't look at me. "It's done, Lila."
The first strike hit his back with a crack that echoed through the hall.
I gasped.
He didn't make a sound.
The second hit. Then the third. Blood welled on his skin.
"Stop," I said louder. "Draven, stop!"
The fourth landed. His muscles twitched, but he didn't cry out.
I moved without thinking. I crossed the circle, grabbed Marcus's arm mid-swing.
"Enough!"
Marcus stared at me. Then at Draven.
Draven finally turned. His eyes met mine. Grey, and full of something broken.
"Let go," he said quietly.
I didn't.
"Please," he said.
Something in my chest shattered. I let go of Marcus's arm.
Draven took the next six lashes without moving. Without making a sound.
When it was over, he straightened. Blood ran down his back. He pulled his shirt on over the wounds, wincing.
"Meeting dismissed," he said.
Wolves filed out. No one spoke. Draven walked past me without a word.
I followed him.
"Let me help," I said when we reached our room.
He shut the door. Leaned against it. "You already did."
"How? By stopping it?"
"By being here." His voice was rough. "If you hadn't been, I wouldn't have stopped. I would've taken you in the woods and hated myself for it after."
I stepped closer. "I don't hate you."
"I know." He closed his eyes. "That's the problem."
He peeled his shirt off. Winced again as it stuck to the blood on his back.
"Turn around," he said.
I did.
I heard him moving, heard the door to the washroom open. Water running.
Then his hand on my shoulder. "Come here."
I turned.
He held out a wet cloth. "Clean it."
My hands shook as I took it. I stepped behind him.
The lashes were deep. Red, angry lines across his back. I pressed the cloth to the first one gently.
He hissed.
"Sorry," I whispered.
"Don't be.
We didn't speak as I worked. The room filled with the sound of water, and his breathing, and my own heart pounding too loud.
When I finished, I set the cloth down. My fingers hovered over his skin, not quite touching.
"Thank you," he said.
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
He turned around. His eyes dropped to my mouth.
For a second, I thought he'd kiss me again.
He didn't. He stepped back. "Get some sleep, Lila."
He got into bed. Turned his back to me.
I lay down on my side, staring at the wall.
My hands still smelled like his blood.
And the worst part was, I wanted to kiss the wounds better.
- Writer
