006
1057 Words
CAMILLIA'S POV
My chest kept on rising and falling, so stupidly.
What was I thinking?
I watched his face turn cold and his eyes sharpen, feeling a jolt through my spine. But the next minute he turned around and left the door while I stood there frozen watching his broad figure.
Imagine if he had punched me into the wall.
Pwee
“Go in, clean up your wounds. And prepare for dinner tonight."
He said these words then slammed the heavy metal door so hard that it resounded in my ears. At least I wasn't ripped apart.
Getting to my room I slammed the door shut.
Everything hurts.
I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the armour still strapped to my body and genuinely considered just sleeping in it.
I didn't.
I started unstrapping the chest plate first. Bad idea. The buckle on the left side had somehow wedged itself directly against the cut on my neck during the walk back inside and the moment I shifted it the pain lit up…so sharp.
" Tssst, f**k it's hurt.”
"Okay," I muttered.
"Okay. Fine."
It took eleven minutes to get the armour off. I counted because I had nothing else to do except suffer and track time.
Every piece came with its own specific punishment. The arm guards had left deep red lines across both forearms. The thigh plates had bruised me somewhere I didn't even know could bruise.
I dropped the last piece on the floor and sat very still for a moment.
Then I got up and showered.
The water stung the cut on my neck immediately and I stood there and let it because I was too tired to flinch.
I watched the faint pink swirl at my feet and thought about Emma's face when she drew that blade. No hesitation.
She just executed it before I could even register that it was happening.
She hated me.
I turned the water off and wrapped myself in a towel and walked back into the room.
“How are you feeling now?"
“Hell…you…." I met Dante sitting on the edge of my bed. I flinched and almost fell.
Tightened up the towel wrapped around me …he was nothing but a p*****t.
"Get out," I said.
He held up the medical kit in one hand. White box. Red cross. He looked completely unbothered by the fact that I was standing in front of him in nothing but a towel with murder in my eyes.
"Sit down Camillia," he said quietly.
"I said…"
"Your neck is still bleeding." He said. "Sit down."
I sat down.
He opened the kit and just started doing something.
Just his hands moved carefully along my neck, cleaning the cut with something cold that made me flinch, definitely alcohol.
He was close. Too close. I could feel the warmth coming off him in contrast to the cold antiseptic on my skin.
I stared at the wall.
His thumb pressed gently at the edge of the cut and I winced.
"Sorry,"
I didn't respond.
His fingers moved to the bruising along my collarbone where the armour had sat and he paused there for a moment longer than was strictly necessary.
I said nothing…but every pulse in my body screamed.
The door opened…After two knocks, not enough time to push Dante away from me and a chance to change out of my towel.
A maid stepped in, took one look at the scene, and dropped her eyes immediately to the floor. "My apologies. Dinner is being served. Everyone is requested to be at the table."
She left faster than she came.
Dante closed the kit and stood up. Looked down at me with those stormy grey eyes that knew too much about everything.
And left without a word.
Such arrogance.
★★
The dining room was enormous and loud and full of people I didn't recognise.
Council elders at the far end. Foreign guests I assumed were from the neighbouring territories. Pack members I had never seen before, filled the middle seats. The table was long and dark and covered in more food than I had seen in one place in my entire life.
I found a seat.
Far end. Near Dante's usual position. Away from the noise and the politics and the head of the table where Ricosta sat in a dark shirt looking like he could flip the table he wanted to.
Emma was beside him.
Arghh…rubbish.
She had changed into something red and effortless and she was leaning slightly toward him the way people lean toward things they wanted the world to know that they own..
I mean who cares, she can have him…I hate him anyway.
I unfolded my napkin and reached for my water.
"Camillia."
His voice carried across the entire table without effort. Everyone went silent immediately.
I looked up… that familiar annoying one.
Ricosta was looking directly at me. He tilted his head almost imperceptibly toward the empty seat to his left.
I looked at the empty seat he was pointing to, for me to sit beside him.
I looked back at him.
"I'm fine here," I said.
I noticed the sudden change in his expression.
He stood up.
The entire table went still. Conversations stopped mid-sentence.
Forks paused halfway to mouths.
He walked the length of the table slowly.
He stopped beside my chair and looked down at me and I looked up at him and neither of us said anything for a long moment.
Probably, my wolf and I were making a full list of personality criticisms of him.
I mean why was he standing in front of me?
Then he reached down, pulled my chair back, took my hand, and walked me back to the head of the table in front of every single person in that room.
I stood on my feet and refused to move, I mean who does he think he is?
He turned around me, his sharp gaze fixed on me.
Picked me up by the waist and sat me directly on his lap.
One arm locked around me like a door closing.
He reached for his fork with his free hand and continued eating like my butt wasn't on his thigh in front of the whole city elders.
“Have you gotten what you want now?"
- Writer
