Feral Cravings

Chapter 7 – The Alpha’s Offering

Zayne’s POV

She wasn’t eating.

It had been hours since Kieran got her name out of her, and still—nothing.

I sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, spinning an apple in my palm, watching the hallway that led to her room. Her scent was stronger now—frustration, exhaustion, the lingering trace of that defiance we all liked a little too much.

“She’s starving herself,” Lucien mused, sipping his wine like we weren’t discussing something important. “How stubborn.”

I scowled. “She’s a rogue. She’s used to scraping by. Doesn’t trust anything we give her.”

Kieran didn’t respond. He was sitting at the dining table, fingers steepled beneath his chin, eyes dark with calculation.

“She’ll break eventually,” Lucien continued, smirking. “They always do.”

My wolf bristled.

I hated the idea of her breaking.

So I hopped off the counter, grabbed a plate, and started making something simple. A sandwich, some sliced fruit. Nothing too much. Nothing overwhelming.

Lucien raised an eyebrow. “How… thoughtful.”

I shot him a glare. “Shut the f**k up.”

Kieran leaned back in his chair, his gaze knowing. “You think she’ll eat from you?”

“She doesn’t need to trust me.” I picked up the plate, balancing it in one hand. “She just needs to eat.”

And with that, I headed toward her door.

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Rhea’s POV

I wasn’t hungry.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

But my stomach had other plans, growling loud enough to piss me off.

I scowled, curling up on the massive bed, my arms folded tight over my chest. The room was too clean, too soft, too… wrong.

I needed noise.

I needed freedom.

I needed—

A knock at the door.

I stiffened.

Then—it opened.

The Alpha.

Zayne.

His dark eyes landed on me, scanning my face, my body, lingering for just a second too long.

My skin prickled.

I sat up, glaring. “What do you want?”

Instead of answering, he stepped inside, holding something in his hand. A plate.

I blinked.

He set it down on the nightstand beside me, then stepped back.

“Eat.”

I stared at him. “Excuse me?”

He crossed his arms, c*****g a brow. “You need food. Eat.”

My stomach betrayed me, growling loud enough for him to smirk.

I hated that smirk.

I scowled at the plate. A sandwich. Some fruit. Nothing fancy. Nothing drugged.

But still, I hesitated.

His smirk faded. “It’s safe.”

I scoffed. “Why would I believe you?”

Zayne exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t care if you trust me or not. But you’re not dying of starvation in this house. So eat. Or don’t. I don’t give a shit.”

He turned to leave.

Something in my chest twisted.

Not guilt. Not appreciation. Just… something.

Before I could stop myself, I grabbed the plate. Took a bite.

Zayne paused at the door.

I didn’t look at him.

I just ate.

And when I finished, I set the plate back down and curled up under the blankets.

I didn’t hear him leave.

But when I woke up later that night, the plate was gone.