Chapter 5
1037 Words
I sat quietly on the dining chair my body still, my mind anything but that. Rhage stood a few steps away dishing food into my plate like this was normal as if he wasn’t the Alpha King, like this wasn’t surreal. I watched him despite myself.
The way his massive body moved with calm control, the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he lifted the pot, thick forearms tightening beneath his sleeves. Broad shoulders, powerful back, strength held in quiet restraint.
Him............serving me.....
If someone had told me this would happen, I would’ve sworn on my life it never could. I had always been terrified of him of his brooding arrogant stillness, of the way his presence alone could silence a room, of his beast who is merciless, feared and ended lives without hesitation.
Rhage wasn’t a man you approached yet here he was a widower who never entertained the thousands of women who threw themselves at his feet. High ranked Alpha daughters, warriors, politicians offering peace treaty marriages.
I remembered how furious Amy would get every time another woman tried. how she hated them for daring, how she waited for his rejection like it was a ritual.
And he always rejected them.
Every single one.
Now he was here, cooking for me, watching over me, acting like his beast believed I belonged to him.
Me..........
A poor orphan who learned early that comfort had to be self made, that support came from no one but myself. Aside from Amy, I had no one to lean on, no safety net, no one waiting to catch me when I fell.
So why him?
Why did I go from fearing this man to wanting him?to finding him devastatingly attractive?
I forced my gaze down to the table, breathing out slowly.
I can’t lose my best friend.
She was the only person who ever chose me, who ever cared and if staying away from her father was the what I had to do, I’ll do it no matter what my body or heart tried to tell me.
The plate touched the table.
I glanced at it and my breath hitched.
I opened my mouth.
“I can’t—”
“I know,” he cuts in calmly.
I froze.
“I didn’t use it” he continued.
“Not a trace.”
My eyes lifted to his.
He already knew.
Before I could respond he set a glass beside my plate clear liquid, faintly tinted, steam barely rising.
My chest tightened.
That drink..........
Warm water infused with chamomile and a slice of lemon peel, something I always did when sleep refused to come, when the nightmares clawed their way back, when the memories of my parents dying in front of me refused to stay buried.
It was the only thing that ever helped.
My throat burned.
Rhage took his seat across from me, posture straight, face stoic and unreadable.
He began eating quietly, not looking at me, not waiting for thanks or acknowledgment.
Like this was nothing.
Like he hadn’t just shattered something inside me.
My gaze dropped to the glass.
He noticed.
He remembered.
All this time, I thought I was invisible. That no one saw me, that my pain was something I carried alone.
My chest ached and before I could stop it a tear slipped free.
I wiped it away quickly which he saw but didn’t stare, didn’t make it awkward, didn’t soften his expression or ask questions.
He just kept eating giving me the dignity of privacy.
I looked down at my plate, my emotions tangled and confusing, heart fluttering painfully against my ribs.
I didn’t understand what this connection was.
But I felt it so deeply and it scared me.
After the meal, i thanked him quietly my voice still unsteady from everything I’d learned tonight. My wolf was silent, just there, watching.
I didn’t know her name yet, but now that I knew she existed the feeling was impossible to ignore. It was like sensing myself from the inside and the outside at the same time, like I was whole in a way I’d never been before.
People always talked about having a wolf but you never really understand it until you experience it until it’s inside you.
I carried our empty plates to the sink and washed them quickly needing the distraction.
When I returned to the sitting room he was gone.
The stairs creaked softly under my feet as I climbed gently opening the door ajar but the bed was empty. The bathroom door was closed, steam curling faintly from beneath it, the sound of running water filling the room.
My gaze drifted to the closet and then I moved closer into the tiny narrow path. Clothes I recognized filled the tiny space, mine, Amy’s, old hoodies we used to steal from the cabin shelves when we were younger. Oversized winter jackets we wore at night because the cold always crept in no matter how much wood was burning.
I pulled one hoodie free, It smelled faintly of cedar. The room was warmer than the rest of the cabin there was a wall mounted heater humming softly, built for nights like this, but the blizzard outside still pushed its chill through the walls.
I changed quickly grateful for the thick fabric then stepped back out and froze..........
He had just come out of the bathroom.
Grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, bare chest damp from the shower, water still tracing down skin marked with ink, tattoos curling over muscle, disappearing beneath fabric.
One hand towel drying his long curls the other holding a sweater.
He looked unreal.
Hazel eyes, steam clinging to his skin, the scent of the soap and his essence filled the room.
I’ve never seen a man look like that.
And suddenly I understood why women lined up for him, why they offered themselves so easily, why Amy used to seethe every time another name was whispered near his.
And now unbelievably I was standing here, staring like an i***t.
My mouth was still open.
“Are you going to keep staring?” he said calmly, voice low.
“or should I change somewhere else?”
- Writer
