Conquered By The Blind Alpha

Beauty On The Inside

ALLE

Winter Draven.

The name echoes in my mind repeatedly, and I test the name on my tongue a few times as I pace the small room I am trapped in.

Every inch of me is coiled tight with tension, my brain a mess of strategies and plans that clash with my current predicament. The lack of strength.

I can barely feel my limbs.

The second the door closes behind Winter, my legs give out, and I fall to the floor with a rather pathetic thump.

Whatever it is they gave me still courses through my veins, making my legs feel heavier with each step I take. I try a few times to shift, but I am met instead with malfunctioning claws and a searing headache that nearly brings me to my knees.

I am powerless.

After what feels like an eternity but is only thirty minutes of me counting each second since Winter left the room, I hear the lock click and the door handle slant.

A woman walks in.

Obviously, unfamiliar.

She has dark green eyes that are sharp and instantly on me the second she steps in.

Her dark brown hair is pulled back in a tight, well organized bun. She has a beautiful face, one that a person would have to look at two or three times just to let it sink in that she is actually a person and not a character in a painting.

High cheekbones, not so full but pretty lips, a pointed nose and a heart-shaped face.

She regards me with that same sharpness, her eyes roaming my no doubt disheveled frame with a look that can only be described as condescending. A stethoscope hangs around her neck, over the blue scrubs she wears and manages to make it look like designer wear.

She has a great build, almost as tall as me, a beautiful figure.

I stop pacing, crossing my arms over my chest and giving her an equally blistering stare.

Sure, Clarisse once said I have a weakness for beautiful women, which I denied though it was true, but if she keeps glaring at me like I stole her puppy or something, I'll definitely do the same.

She holds a small briefcase in her right hand which she then holds up and sets on the bedside table.

"Alle Thorn." She simply says, her face scrunched up as she looks at me again, the distaste in her tone is heavy.

My eyes narrow into slits and I drop my hands to my sides.

"And who are you?"

I guess my response isn't what she expects.

She raises a brow and then lets out a sound that is similar to a scoff.

"I'm Dr. Benedicta Paige," she begins in a monotone, snapping the briefcase open, "And I'm here to make sure you aren't having any adverse reactions to the drug you ingested." She explains in an annoyingly professional tone.

She turns to look at me, eyes lingering on my mud covered frame for a moment before she asks; "Are you feeling dizzy? Thirsty? Heavy?"

I shrug my shoulders, regarding her suspiciously, "You seem to know a lot about the symptoms that I'm experiencing, Doctor," I walk in her direction, stopping only a few steps away. She is trying hard to seem unbothered by my approach, but I see how her brow and lips twitch at the same time.

"Well, yes." She returns her gaze to the medical instruments that lay in the briefcase and she uncaps a syringe, "I was the one who recommended the drug to Winter."

"Oh," I nod, a bitter smile stretching my lips as I think back to the amount of wine I'd consumed the night before.

The one night I decide to let down my inhibitions, everything goes to s**t.

"So you're an accessory to murder." It isn't a question.

I watch as her shoulders stiffen up and she turns around abruptly, glaring at me as though I've blasphemed.

"Our Alpha takes power from weak, incompetent Alphas that put their own lives before that of their people, Winter is an honorable man and what he did had to be done, you should be grateful."

I suck in a deep breath, then another, then another.

I've never been one to let my anger consume me, but hearing these people speak of the lives they took as though they were simply a means to an end makes my blood boil.

"If I'm so weak and incompetent..." I grit out, "Why did your p***y of an Alpha drug me and attack when more than half the warriors were away?"

"You!" Her face turns red with anger and she raises the syringe, the needle glinting from the barely there light that brightens up the room, a warning, a threat?

I don't do well with threats.

"Come on, cheekbones," I scoff, "Do it." I dare fearlessly, I'm not sure what it contains but whatever it is, I'll be sure to claw out her pretty eyes before it takes effect.

A few tense seconds pass between us, heavy and impatient. Neither of us willing to make the first move but eager to retaliate.

Then she drops her arm and lets out a low, slow breath.

"You do not speak of him that way."

I smile, it isn't humorous.

"I shouldn't say he's a p***y?"

I hear her teeth gnash against each other and in that moment I think she is going to attack, but she doesn't. Instead her professional mask slips back on and she sets down the syringe.

"I see you have no need for this pain killer," she continues in that monotonous voice, "You're clearly fine," she sets up everything she'd brought out of the briefcase back in and closes it shut before lifting it off the bedside table. Her movements are fluid, and elegant, a characteristic one would expect from a distinguished doctor.

I know a lot about them.

I know a lot about her type.

I don't let my smile drop, just for the sake of spiting her but unfortunately I can't see through the mask she has on, it is as though she'd flipped a switch and suddenly she is no longer the woman who almost stabbed me with a needle.

My head still aches and my limbs still feel like jelly but I'll be damned if I let her inject me with anything!

She smooths out non-existent wrinkles from her scrub and then begins to walk away. I watch her back with a glare I know she can't see, hating the way I now have her at the top of my most hated list.

You'd think she'd be beautiful on the inside too.

Halfway to the door, she stops and turns back around.

"Just because you're his mate..." she speaks softly, "...does not mean he won't kill you," she meets my gaze briefly, "He has no need for you, he already has a woman in his life."

I laugh, "I'm guessing it's you?"

Of course it is. She defends him as though she worships him or rather, as if she sucks his d**k on a daily.

She probably does.

"There is no need for you, only a use." She continues without accepting or denying my accusation.

"To have his child, and then you'll die."

There it is again, that stupid comment.

My fists clench tightly, nails digging so deeply into my palms I can feel them draw blood.

"Or," I growl, "I kill every single person in this building and then I kill your Alpha," I tilt my head to the side, satisfaction spreading through me as I see her face pale slightly.

She knows I'm not bluffing.

I never bluff about taking lives.

"You won't even make it to the front door, Miss Thorn." She manages a composed voice, but I hear the slight tremor. She begins her trek, pulling the door open and closing it, just like Winter did.

"We'll see." I say to the empty room.