Kade
I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t do anything. My conscience wouldn’t let me. Thanks to Tyson’s incessant whimpers and Esmeralda’s assumptions too.
After hours of tossing and turning on the bed as sleep eluded me, I walked into the bathroom, trying to free myself of the earlier tension between Esmeralda and me.
I swallowed hard, trying to erase the memory when the cold water hit my body, sending chills within me.
Damn, Esmeralda!
Despite the chills, the cold bath wasn’t helping.
I walked out of the bathroom in anger, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from my wardrobe and opening it hastily.
I needed something strong, something to charge my feelings.
Placing the bottle on my lips as I didn’t bother pouring it into a glass, I drained a good amount of its content, savouring its stinging effects.
But it wasn’t working.
Nothing was working.
What the fuck was wrong with me?!
Tossing the bottle aside, I ran my hands through my hair in frustration.
What was Esmeralda doing to me?!
For a minute, she made me blinded by my anger, almost pushing me to my limit. Another minute, she acted naive, pleading for forgiveness. Another minute, she was daring, challenging, and standing up to me.
It was strange.
No one has ever stood up to me nor questioned my actions, not even Silvius.
It was more strange because she was just an Omega, more like a slave.
I had never seen a girl like her.
Could this slave be having some effect on me?
Tyson wasn’t helping matters too. He always defended her, reminding me that she was our mate.
A disobedient mate, she was.
Speaking of Tyson, he shut himself in the darkest part of my head, promising to resurface if I resolved the tension between Esmeralda and me.
Stupid. I wasn’t going to do that.
He could go for a long vacation for all I cared. I will survive on my own. I’ve always done that.
I hit my fist on the table out of frustration, not caring if I will get injured.
Who cares?
I wanted to be mad, extremely mad at Esmeralda for disobeying me, for challenging me.
But I couldn’t.
And it made me feel… weak.
Weakness. A foreign feeling that never associated itself with me.
I don’t do weaknesses. An Alpha was never weak.
Bottling my feelings as I sat on the edge of the bed, about to force myself to sleep, my gaze swept through the room and it landed on the broken pieces of whiskey bottle that pricked Esmeralda’s feet, hurting her.
I could still smell her blood on the pieces of the bottle.
A mental picture of her tear-filled eyes popped up in my head as she ran out of the room with drops of blood trailing behind her.
That was the last straw for me.
I needed to see how she was doing. How she was coping. If she had treated her wound.
I heaved a long sigh as I got clad in a black shirt and trousers, grabbing a first-aid box in my wardrobe, before locking my door.
But then I stopped in my tracks.
What was I doing?
Was I supposed to be doing this?
She was the one who started it. If she didn’t run out of the room, she would be careful and avoid the broken bottle.
What is wrong with me?
What was she doing to me?
One minute, she made me want to punish her, the other minute, she made me feel bad about my decision.
I walked around the lonely dim-lit hallway, intentionally avoiding the North wing as I let the trails of Esmeralda’s blood lead me to where she was.
Using my wolf hearing, I could hear Madam Dora’s voice in the North wing as she tried to persuade Amelia to open the door of the wing for her to give her some food.
But Amelia being Amelia kept mute instead, occupying her time by staring into space.
She hardly eats, she hardly sleeps, and she hardly does anything, except stare into space.
And it hurts so bad that Esmeralda thought I was the cause of it.
I would never hurt my sister.
I could kill for her.
“You are a monster. You derive happiness in stealing people’s joy and keeping them hostage,” Her voice echoed in my head, breaking my heart.
She thinks of me as a monster, but why will I derive joy in seeing Amelia like that?
She was quick to judge. And her judgment was wrong.
Amelia was shut up in the North wing for her own good. I couldn’t allow her to cause havoc in the house because she was my sister.
I didn’t want her to hurt anyone. And most importantly, I didn’t want to be reminded of my past.
Amelia’s presence brought pity. I didn’t need anyone’s pity.
I halted when the blood trail stopped. Esmeralda’s delicious scent filled me, melting every bit of anger in me, replacing it with calmness.
Her scent always works magic on me, subsiding the waging storm in me, leaving me with peace like a river.
She was there, no doubt.
In front of me was a door, a familiar door that brought a deep frown to my face.
I didn’t like the room. It belonged to a former maid.
Somehow, I didn’t want Esmeralda to stay in the room, she deserved better.
Really, Kade?
I gasped, surprised at my sudden decision.
Muttering enough courage, I knocked on the door three times but I was met with silence.
Resisting the urge to use my voice as I was scared that she might not want to see me or talk to me, I repeated the knock, but I was met with silence.
A feeling of dread crept from the pit of my stomach at the eerie silence.
She should be here. Her scent confirmed it.
But she wasn’t responding.
Had she left the room? But her scent was oozing from the room.
Had she bled out without calling for help?
I groaned, resisting the urge to break the door open.
What if she was naked?
Fuck!
Drowning in the sea of worry, I threw caution to the wind as my hand met with the door knob and without knocking, I opened the door.
I let my eyes scan the sparsely furnished room and they landed on a familiar figure who lay on the bed without moving.
Throwing all composure, I ran to meet her, sitting by the edge of the bed and cupping her cheeks with my large hands.
Her eyes were closed and her long dark lashes rested on her cheeks. My thumb brushed her jawbones that stood out, highlighting her face.
She was beautiful. Even as a slave.
But then, something stained my fingers.
Something watery.
Tears.
She had been crying. I made her cry.
A pang of guilt pricked me, making me hate myself for what I did.
“I’m sorr…”
I stopped myself before completing the sentence.
What was I sorry for? I was just here to treat her and get rid of these feelings of guilt.
Playtime was over.
“Esmeralda?” I called softly, pulling away from her, but she didn’t respond.
Repeating the process, except this time, I shook her, expecting her to yell at me for disturbing her peace, but she lay still.
Fear gripped me as I stared at her helplessly.
Was she alright?
Was she still conscious?
There was one way to find out.
I lowered my head to her chest, looking for a sign that she was still hanging on. Then, the soft beating of her heart filled my ears. A thrill of relief washed through me as I listened to them.
It was so calm, I wanted to listen to it every time. Unconsciously, I let my hand fall on her breasts while my head was lowered on her chest, enjoying her heartbeat.
She wasn’t wearing a bra!
Naughty Esmeralda.
“Our mate has perfect boobies,” Tyson beamed in excitement, proceeding, urging my hands to do the needful. But I restrained myself before he could squeeze Esmeralda’s boobs.
“But she is our mate,” He protested, groaning in an unsatisfied manner.
“Control yourself, Tyson!”
Reluctantly tearing my gaze off her, I straightened myself, removing my hands from her breast when she began to turn.
My heart raced when her amber eyes met mine. But instead of them being usually soft, filled with love, they were glaring at me in pure hatred.
“What are you doing here? Get out!”