Chapter 2
1035 Words
Alaric POV
Something about her felt softer, the aura she carried and that painting sent an immediate chill.
The door swung wide open. I could probably hear the sound of her racing chest. Fast, as if it wanted to escape its cage.
I turned my chair around, meeting her gaze.
"Leave!" The man behind her gave a slight bow and walked out.
My gaze met hers, feeling almost inseparable. Something shifted within me.
My wolf shifted, hard and churning. My stomach twisted in discomfort. My feet shaking underneath the table.
"What's this?" I murmured under my breath.
Her gaze didn't flicker for a second, but she also looked lost in time.
'A bond. A mate bond.' The voice came from within. Frank was awake.
"Kindly take your seat." I took a deep breath.
Her first move made something within me shift in an instant. I hated this feeling.
Our eyes locked together. It felt like I saw a piece of heaven in those eyes. Something dead inside of me came alive almost immediately.
"The painting, what dream did you have about it?"
"Hmmm…."
"Don't stutter mid-words, talk straight and don't be scared. I have zero claws." I interrupted, trying to wrap my emotions around what was happening.
"It wasn't a normal dream. I thought about what would sweep you off your feet…" She gulped down her saliva. It sounded loud, as if a stone had been fired down her throat.
"I warned you!" I adjusted my seat back a bit. Her eyes widened fast.
I could read the fear in her eyes.
"Now, talk better without being scared of me!"
She adjusted her little half-cut blouse and the jacket that seemed to cover just half of her stomach.
"They say you're dangerous and a Mafia King. So I picked up my brush and it led me to draw what I showed you."
I couldn't believe what she was saying. Those drawings were saying way more than her words ever could.
I dragged my chair closer, dropping my elbows to the table.
"Do you know the result of lying to me?"
Her fragile-looking head moved up and down. I let out a wicked grin. Not long and sharp. Just a one-sided one.
"Then don't lie to me, tell me the exact truth!" I relaxed back.
"I swear I'm not lying….."
A loud buzz came from her, cutting off the discussion. Her gaze shifted from me to her thigh area.
She looked at me with something that felt bigger than fear.
"Pick it up, now!" I commanded.
Her shaky hands slowly went down. She placed the phone right against her ear. For one second her gaze didn't dare flicker. Just looking in one direction.
"Hey Anna, I would call you later, I'm quite busy." I let out a chuckle. Her hand slowly returned back to its normal position.
Looking at her made me both happy and sad. I have always loved making people scared of me, right from being a little child.
When I was much younger, my brother's friends would always come around, beat me up, and make me scared. One fateful day I took the oath — be worse than them. The plan was to make them pay back, but now I'm stuck making everybody pay back.
But she seems to be my mate. Hurting my mate hurts me back. It feels like karma.
I leaned forward a bit. "I promise I don't cause harm, don't be scared of me."
A fake smile spread across her face. I jolted up, my wolf moved. A little growl let out.
"Why cut off the call, are you scared of me?"
The question at this point would be a storming block in her mind. Repeating itself every second.
"Stand up and leave. I would give you a proper invitation next time!"
I walked back to my chair and slowly pulled it backward as I sat down.
I watched her stand. Slow, like her knees were debating whether to hold her up or give out.
Her scent hit me again. Something soft, almost like suffering wrapped in vanilla and rain. It clawed at my wolf and made him pace harder inside me.
Frank stirred, low and possessive. *She's ours. Don't let her walk out like that.*
I gritted my teeth. "Stop," I said before she reached the door. My voice came out rougher than I meant.
She froze. Didn't turn. Just stood there, fingers twitching at the hem of that half-cut blouse.
"Turn around."
She obeyed. Barely. Her eyes were glassy now, but not with tears. With something heavier. Something that looked like memory.
"That painting," I said, tapping the corner of the canvas with one finger. "You said your brush led you to it. That wasn't an answer. That was a prayer."
Her lips parted. No sound came out.
I pushed away from the desk, every step measured. Frank was snarling in my head, fighting to surface. I could feel claws pricking under my skin. Not to hurt her. To claim her.
"The man I killed in that dream," I said, voice dropping, "the blood on my hands, the throne made of bones... you drew all of that. Tell me, little liar, how do you dream of a nightmare you've never lived?"
Her breath hitched. That racing chest of hers was thunder in the quiet room.
"I..." she started, then stopped. Her throat bobbed like she was swallowing glass.
"Don't 'I' me," I snapped, but softer than before. "You walk in here smelling like fate and fear, you paint my sins before I commit them, and you expect me to sit still?"
I was in front of her now. Too close. I could see the pulse in her neck, fluttering like a trapped bird.
"We would meet later!" I walked away from her path.
My chest twisted but my feet stood firmer.
I watched her as she walked out those doors.
'She's ours!'
"Let me be, Frank!" I yelled.
I returned to my seat.
Both my eyes went shut. The memories came rushing like fluid through my veins.
"Please, don't hurt me!" I screamed it out. The one thing I feared is slowly creeping back into my life.
- Writer
