I didn’t struggle with Ivan as he took my hand to have a look at it. I sat in bed exhausted, with no more strength left in me and a pounding head. I had spent half an hour after Aaron left with Zion, crying my eyes out in pain. I didn’t even know when Damor left the room, and I didn’t care. My heart had been broken into a million pieces and was bleeding beyond repair. I wanted to wallow, and being left alone helped me do that.
Aaron was taking away my son. He was doing it before my very eyes. He had denied me my son, only to bring him back when I had had enough of his games and snapped. Now Zion will believe something is wrong with me. He probably believes I am crazy and am even going to hurt him.
You were crazy, and you might not have had intentions of harming him, but you were harming yourself, and he saw that, too. Aaron might have laid out the cards, but you played right into it as he wanted.
Ivan dipped the towel in his hand into the bowl of warm water on the bed, and he pried my hand open to rub over the cut. I stayed quiet as he did his thing, my eyes unable to even look at him.
He finished and moved the bowl from the bed to the floor, and he picked up a box of wool and a bottle of liquid. My eyes caught the methylated spirit, and I drew a sharp breath.
His hazel eyes darted to me, and he gave me a careful look. “Stay still; I know it will burn, but believe me, we need to disinfect the area of the cut and make sure it’s safe before putting on the bandage,” he explained.
I understood what he meant and knew it was necessary, but that still didn’t stop my agitation because I knew what the burn of the menthol felt like.
‘Next time, perhaps you will think of the consequences before you do something this reckless,’ my mind nagged at me.
“Zera, trust me,” he said, and I nodded and shut my eyes tightly. He placed the wool on my palm, and I hissed out in pain and began trembling uncontrollably.
“Zera?” he called, his voice low.
I tried to open my eyes and look at him, but I couldn’t, and my eyes remained tightly shut.
His hand touched my forehead, and it felt extremely cold. “Shit.” He cussed and withdrew it. “You’re burning up. This isn’t good.” I heard him say it before my senses faded away into oblivion.
My lashes fluttered, and I found myself on the bed in a room with darker paintings and curtains. This room differed from the one I first woke up in, and it was also warmer compared to that one.
The question clouded my mind. I remember being with Ivan, getting my injury treated, and then being unable to open my eyes or even speak before my senses faded. Something had happened, and it was something bad. I needed to know what it was.
My eyes darted around, and I found Aaron standing before the window and staring through the blinds at my left side.
My heart picked up its beat, and I tried to get up and get away from him. It was fear; it was anger, and it was the anger birthed from guilt, sadness, and resentment.
He turned around as if he heard my thought, and his hazel eyes rested on me, and for a moment, I thought I saw warmth in them. It took me by surprise, but I still didn’t trust it, and I sat up, yanking the bed sheet on my upper body away, only to see the bandage in my hand and also around my wrist.
I remember everything that happened before my eyes closed, but I did not recall harming my wrist, so why was there a bandage on my wrist?
My hand moved to touch it but stopped when Aaron spoke. “Don’t do that. It needs time to heal.”
I glanced up at him and wanted to tell him there was no wound there, but I decided against it. I didn’t want to talk to him, anyway. I didn’t want to fight him, either. I didn’t have that energy in me.
I pulled the bed sheet off the rest of my body and pulled my legs closer to my chest. “You didn’t tell anyone about the mark on your wrist,” he pointed out, stepping towards the bedside.
“That’s because there was no mark on my wrist,” I answered, finally speaking to him.
“There is. I’m guessing Henry grabbed you, and his claw dug into your skin,” he said, and he was right. I remember that happening when I tried running from the kitchen to get away from Henry. I must have forgotten about it with all that happened after.
“I forgot,” I mumbled.
“The mark is a deadly poison, especially for someone like you. It causes an acute fever that would kill a human in a matter of hours, and I am surprised you are still with us.”
“I’m not that easy to kill, Mr. Hart.”
“Good, because we still need you,” he replied in a genuine tone of voice.
I wondered what had happened. Why was he being all calm and communicating? Did it have something to do with the death scare I gave them?
Or was it because of something else?
“Henry had his claws on your body as well, but here you are with no scratch.” I reminded him.
He smiled and damned those dimples: “That’s because I’m not human, Zera. Werewolves have faster healing abilities than humans, and alphas have even faster healing abilities. But that’s not the case for every alpha, though.”
I wanted to understand what he meant by that last line, but I knew he wouldn’t want to tell me, so I moved on from it. I placed my legs on the cold tiled floor and winced at the coldness thereof. “You should go easy on yourself. You have been through a lot already,” he said in a calm voice.
I glanced up at him and saw the sincere look on his face. Since he brought himself into my life, I have seen a lot of things on his face, from anger to fury and even lust, and none of those looks had an ounce of concern in them. That made me believe the man I once knew was a mere charade, but here now, sitting while he stared at me, I got a glimpse of the man I fell for years ago.
I dropped my gaze from him, remembering he had also broken my heart when he told me he wanted more with me, only to turn around and demand the exact opposite.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I said, withdrawing my legs from the cold, tiled floor.
We stayed silent, and I could feel the tension building, but neither of us seemed willing to move on. I know I didn’t. I wanted to change the topic to anything that would ease the awkwardness.
“Why did Henry attack me if you’re the one he wanted?” I asked, changing the topic and easing the tension.
He stuffed his hands into his pocket, and despite wanting to look up at him, I knew I couldn’t. I had genuine feelings for him, even after so long. Extreme hatred could manifest in the forms of anger, sadness, resentment, and spite. I also had an extreme likeness. These could manifest as a smile, a kind comment, a longing stare, an eye roll, or those other annoying, weakening feelings. He doesn’t have to do anything that I would like. My likeness for him will kick in as soon as I no longer feel any form of resentment for him.
I didn’t even want to like him, but these feelings were beyond my control.
“Because whoever attacked you knows that you and Zion are the weakest links to me.” He answered.
That didn’t sound like a good thing, but all my attention stayed on “They?” and my brow furrowed.
“The rebellion pack.” When my eyes narrowed in confusion at what he said, he added, “Most werewolves belong to packs, and an alpha or a luna rules those packs. In other words, the strongest wolf rules the pack.”
“You’re the alpha,” I pointed out.
“Of Dominio pack. The strongest pack in existence,” he said, and I could hear the pride in his voice as he made this announcement.
“But you’re not that strong,” I said because I could still remember his fight with Henry, and it was an equal show of strength from what I saw. He had also hinted at his lack of strength when he spoke a few minutes ago.
If he took offence at my words, his reply didn’t show it. “I’m not,” he agreed.
My stomach growled aloud, and I wrapped my arms around it, knowing he had heard it.
“You should eat. You have had no decent food in your stomach for the past few days now.” He said this and made his way towards the door.
I couldn’t blame anyone for that. Damor had brought me food then, and I threw it away because I was angry. “Yes, I haven’t.”
“The chefs are almost done.”
“You’re no longer cooking?” I asked before I could help it because I remember Damor saying he had made the food I threw away. If the chef is making my food now, it could be because I pissed him off to the point where he abandoned cooking altogether.
He turned around from the door and shook his head, saying, “I do some days.”
“Damor said you didn’t trust them to make food for us.”
His eyes dimmed a little. “No, I believe he said I didn’t trust them to serve you food alone.” He corrected, “They get to cook for us and the family, and I get to make them eat the food first before we do.”
“Smart way of doing things, then. You believe no one can be trusted.”
“I know no one can be trusted,” he affirmed.
I frowned at his generalization: “Then what about me? You do not know me that well.”
He looked at me, and our gazes locked. I shuddered on the inside. “I know you well enough to know you do not want me dead.”
I raised my brow at his audacity to think that, which made him chuckle. “Perhaps you want me dead, but wishing differs from acting on it, and that makes you different. Also, you’re Zion’s mother, and I doubt you would want to harm him. That gives you a level of trust.”
“How’s Zion?” I asked, changing the subject. I still remember the last time I saw him and the terrified look he had on his face as he stared at me. It was one I never hoped to see again.
“He’s good. He asked after you.”
My eyes lit up at his last line. “He did?”
“Yes.”
I glanced down at my bandaged hand and wrist before asking in a low voice, “Can I see him?”
“Yes, I have no reason to keep you from him. But like I said, you need to regain your strength, so eating is needed. I have a few businesses to attend to, and I will not be back early today.” He took a step back before adding, “Dinner will be on me.”
My eyes grew wide. “Okay, so you will cook?” I asked, unable to contain my excitement.
What has suddenly come over me?
His face broke into a wide smile, and goodness gracious. “I still do. But I was with Zion before coming here. So I didn’t have the time to enter the kitchen.”
I smiled and said, “Dinner is a promise, then?”
“Sure, let’s call it that,” he said, winking at me before leaving the room.
I could get used to that.