Enslaved by the Alpha

Chapter Nine Pt 2: Reunions

When my eyes opened again, I found myself lying in a warm, comfortable bed completely dried off. A large blanket covered me and my damp hair cascaded across the remainder of the pillow behind me. The white t-shirt and thin fabric covering my nudity was removed and replaced with an oversized brown hoodie, leaving me naked beneath the thick, masculinely fragranced cotton.

My gaze scanned the room and a sense of familiarity hit me. There was nothing in here that spoke out to me except for the layout, and the terrible feelings it brought on made me anxious.

I tried to pull a memory with this particular room, yet nothing came to me. Many would see that as a good thing—not me. If I can't find a memory in a place I get a sense I've been, then nothing good came from it. I was here and must've been too focused on fighting for my safety to remember. My instincts never lie.

A door opening startled me out of my thoughts. I jumped, my heart pounding violently in my chest, and my eyes landed on Draven. He wore a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. His hair was damp, slicked back flat against his head.

He took in my current appearance and frowned, walking up to the other side of the bed and taking a seat next to me. "How are you feeling? Your lips were discolored and you were nodding in and out. I changed you into something dry and tucked you in to warm you up." His expression suddenly turned gloomy. "I want you to know I'll never let anyone here do that to you again."

I stared at him, mixed feelings whirring together within me, causing my heart rate to spike and involuntary tears to fill my eyes. My breathing became shallow and harsh while my throat constricted with heat, a tremor forming in my hands. I squeezed the sewn line of the hoodie cuffs to try and stop it. He noticed this and placed his hands gently over mine.

"I'm going to keep you safe, don't you worry," he vowed, his eyes lingering in mine full of sincerity and confidence. The previous feelings that sprouted my anxiety wilted away under his gaze.

"I can't stay here," I replied softly, averting my eyes to our hands and slowly pulling out of his delicate grasp. "Your father will find out I've returned. I have to run, Draven, that's the only way I can have a life."

"I killed him."

My eyes jumped to meet his and my features softened in shock. He stared at me, clenching his jaw a moment later as if what he said so blatantly came catching up to him.

It's clear he didn't want to.

Did his father go after him for letting me go?

"I couldn't look at him knowing he hurt you in more ways than one. The hatred inside me... It was unlike anything I've ever felt. I wanted him dead," he answered.

I, on the other hand, was rendered speechless by the revelation it wasn't out of self-defense. In spite of that, a warm flutter tickled my stomach. "All of this for me?"

"And so much more, Red."

I raised my hand to his shirt, planting my palm over his collar and slowly running it along his short sleeve. My skin found the end of the fabric and continued down, delicately wrapping my fingers around his massive biceps, failing to even make it halfway around his muscle.

Why didn't I see this strength before?

He can protect me from everything.

"What if I only want one thing?" I asked, running my hand back up his bicep and over his collar, moving up his neck as I slowly scooted closer to him.

His eyes followed my every action closely. "Then I'll turn this world inside out to give it to you," he said, his gaze settling in mine.

I caressed his stubbled jaw with my thumb and my body flushed with a sudden burst of heat. Desire to reimburse him for everything tightened my core and I exhaled through parted lips, unused to such strong feelings controlling me.

Giving myself to him is all I have to show how grateful I am. That's how I must thank him.

"I want Cyprian dead," I breathed, watching his focused features soften like that was the last thing he expected to hear.

"Okay," he responded.

"And can I ask you something?"

"Anything." His lips curved into a small, assuring smile.

"What you said before about love, is that why you're helping me?" I lowered my hand from his face, uncertain of the motive behind his decisions.

His smile dropped and his eyebrows knitted, a stern look plastered itself on his face. "Yes."

"But you're a werewolf, an Alpha at that, and I'm a vampire. I don't know what you say is true and I trust everything that comes from you," I replied gently. My eyes flickered to his lips. "That makes me afraid."

"You don't have to be. I'd never do anything to hurt you, Scarlett. I've never lied, certainly not about what I feel for you." He hooked his finger under my chin and leaned in. As our lips met, he stole the breath right out of my lungs, kissing me softly.

My eyes closed instinctively at the same time paralysis struck me and my heartbeat quickened, a cold sweat spreading along my skin. I struggled to suppress my oncoming panic attack, my lip quivering against his. He pulled away, lightly gliding his thumb across the lining of my bottom lip, putting an end to its tremble.

I opened my eyes and met his instantly, my brows furrowing slightly with misunderstanding. "Why did you stop?"

"To show you I'm different," he murmured.

I frowned, my stomach swelling with mixed emotions. I want to be close to him. He makes me feel safe, like I actually matter. He's the only werewolf to ever make a choice on my account. But despite all that he does and makes me feel, deep down I can't bring myself to believe he won't turn out to be like them.

I trust him with my life, I just don't trust him with me.

Throwing my arms around him, I crawled onto his lap and buried my face in his neck. The second his arms draped around my back, I felt untouchable, and my lips curled into a smile at the sense of security. Until the sound of his blood rushing filled my ears.

I swallowed harshly, closing my eyes and slowly turning my head to follow the angle in his neck. My lips ran over his warm, inviting skin and my gums surrounding the base of my newly grown fangs started to itch, a slight pain forming in them that worsened with the urge to drive them into his carotid artery.

I parted my lips and clenched his shirt in my hands, nuzzling closer to him. My fangs hovered over his veins.

No. Not him.

I whimpered, yanking away and turning my head with a sharp exhale, fighting the thirst.

"What's wrong?" He grabbed my chin and turned me to face him, revealing the second round of cold-sweat on my face. Concern sparked in his eyes.

"I have to go," I grimaced, my gaze trialing back to his neck and my hands tightened on his shirt. I gulped, wincing slightly.

"You're thirsty." He examined my discomfort and searched my eyes, causing me to shift my attention to him.

"I don't want to hurt you either," I whimpered, frantically moving off of his lap to the opposite side of the bed, staring down at my shaking hands.

I turned them palm side up and saw my naturally blue veins had sprouted mini red veins throughout my forearm. They were extremely painful and swelled my skin. The slightest movement sent scorching, sharp pains through my arms and I grunted, holding my hands to my chest to hide it while I played with my fangs using my tongue to relieve the itch.

Draven rounded the bed after hearing my pained grunt and knelt down in front of me, pulling my rapidly trembling hands from my chest. A loud cry escaped me at the sharp pain that sliced down my forearms, resembling fiberglass dragging across my wrist to the crease in my elbow. He flipped them over a lot gentler to avoid bringing me more pain and horror filled his face seeing hundreds of dark-red veins expanding under my pale skin.

"When was the last time you had blood?" He looked up at me, more worry etched into his features.

How is he not disgusted?

Pained tears streamed down my cheeks. "After you let me go."

His face softened in horrid realization. "The only way to stay immortal is to drink from the mortal—you're dying. You need blood," he explained correctly, getting up to take a seat next to me. He lightly grabbed my hands. "Take it from me, Scarlett."

I eyed him, shaking my head, mumbling in disagreement. There's a chance I'd kill him from how deprived I am and the thought alone freaked me out. I don't want to risk it, I can't. If I ever were to hurt him...

Closing my eyes, I pushed that thought away and squeezed his hands. He rubbed his thumb on the back of mine calmly. "I trust you."

I raised my head and looked at him, searching for any type of panic in his eyes or demeanor. His body wasn't abnormally tense, his eyes were soft and comforting, and his grip on my hands weren't tight, sweaty, or shaky—that was all me.

He trusts me, but I don't.

"The want is cut off when I'm feeling anxious," I admitted. He lifted his hand to cup the side of my face, analyzing the fear and anxiety written on my expression.

"Then all you have to do is relax, Red."

A chill ran through me and I shuddered, watching him remove the distance between us gingerly. My eyes closed and I reluctantly gave in to his kiss, crawling onto his lap and ignoring the excruciating pain in my arms. I hovered, too afraid to sit on him, and placed my hands on his collar.

His hands traveled under the hem of the hoodie and rested on my bare hips, rubbing soothing circles over my cool skin. I relaxed under his gingerly touch and allowed myself to straddle him, officially seating myself on his lap and putting my thigh muscles to rest.

"It's okay," he breathed. I placed my fingers across his jawline and broke the kiss, gently pushing his head to the side then lowering my lips to the skin just below his jaw.

I kissed my way down the thin flesh, grabbing his bicep and losing my other hand in the hair on the back of his head.

"There you go, just like that." His deep voice purred in a relaxed manner.

After hearing his words, I sank my fangs into his neck and was immediately met with the taste of blood. I clawed at him to get a tighter hold and pushed my hips into his abdomen, groaning quietly.

His blood warmed my throat, streaming over my tastebuds with its briny, savory taste and the pain in my arms began to dissipate. I felt his skin tighten around my fangs, attempting to heal his wound, and the sensation relieved the insatiable itch in my gums. My body quivered in enjoyment, however, I leaned my head back and forced myself to stop before I went too far.

His wound healed instantly, leaving no trace except for the little blotch of smeared blood. I looked down at my arms and he followed my gaze, finding they had returned to normal and we raised our heads in unison, locking eyes instantly.

A lump formed in my throat and redness filled my face. I felt like a shameless parasite, a disgusting creature who deserves to be tortured for the vile things I do. I've never felt so revolting. Everything the wolves have called me over the years actually felt true.

I have to hurt people just to survive.

He lifted his hand to my face and ran his thumb across my lips, wiping away the blood. I stared at him, surprised by his actions, then he moved his thumb to my cheek.

"You're perfect to me, nothing can change that," he complimented.

Shock overtook every anxious emotion swirling inside me and I stared at him, my eyes roaming his face. Why would someone who can have anyone still choose me? He has influence, looks, personality, and wants me as his partner?

I grabbed his jaw and hesitantly leaned in, slowly pressing my lips to his. He waited a moment before returning it with the same slow tenderness. The way he kissed me was unlike any kiss I've ever shared with someone. There's no urgency and aggression behind it, just abundant time and infatuation.

I liked it.

Pulling back, my face hovered over his and I scanned his features. My heart skipped a beat and a tickle formed in my stomach.

I fear I'm developing feelings for a werewolf.

"Get some proper rest, Red. You need to give your body time to warm back up." He again raised his hand to my face and curled his fingers under my jaw, lightly caressing my cheek with his thumb.

"I'm glad you pestered me," I mumbled, closing my eyes and smiling at the memory.

"Is that how you see it?" He questioned with a small chuckle. I looked at him.

"Okay, then humor me. How do you see it?"

He smiled cheekily. "You ended up in situations that coincidentally only I could save you from."

"Sounds like you have a savior complex."

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for a victim mentality."

I shoved at his chest, twisting my back to him as I moved away from him, dangling my legs off of the side of the bed. "I think you're forgetting I'm an actual victim."

"Believing that is one of the many signs."

I scoffed then his arms suddenly wrapped around my waist and pulled me back, a sharp, loud gasp caused spit to shoot down my windpipe and I choked.

He flipped me onto my back and laid on his side next to me, holding himself up with his elbow, leaning his body over me. Once I came down from my coughing fit, he began to speak.

"Are you okay? Do you need anything? I didn't mean that, I'm sorry." He lightly brushed his fingers across my temple and pushed the hair back, a serious frown on his lips.

I bit my lip, failing to stop the tiny smile. "On another note, I think I like this whole savior complex."

Another smile sprawled across his face and he shook his head. "Oh? As long as I have your interest, I'll be anything you want me to be."

Anything?

My hands raised to his cheeks and I gazed up at him in awe, admiring his handsome features. My smile shrank, my features softened, and my eyes fixated on his face, taking in every little detail.

"Draven?" I asked lightly.

He hummed in reply.

The second I opened my mouth to speak, a loud knock pounded against the bedroom door. He closed his eyes with an annoyed sigh, mumbling an incoherent sentence from which I only deciphered curses.

"What?" He called, rolling on his back. I felt the heat from his closeness disappear, replacing with a cold punch of air that made me shiver at the sudden change.

The door opened and my world came to a standstill. The cold gust of air I just felt was nothing to compared to the current ice coursing through my veins now.

There, standing in the doorway with empty eyes, was his ravaged, vengeful mother. And she was staring right at me.