Chapter 17 CAUGHT IN THE ACT
SEBASTIAN’S POV
I freeze.
And not the disciplined quiet and stillness Beta Ava drills into us daily no.
And definitely not the calm readiness I envy other guards for having.
It's the kind of still everyone feels in the face of extreme fear.
Like the ones deers feel whenever we surround them and they realize there's nowhere to run.
My spine locks in one place and my fingers spasm then cramp around the charcoal I use to draw.
My heart skips a beat or two at the beginning then slams into my ribcage and heart repeatedly.
My ears are ringing and for a moment, I hope, no I pray to the Moon goddess that this is all a dream.
His scent is the next thing my mind registers.
He smells of the forest.
Like the damp rainforest floor after a very long winter and it's the first rain of the season.
Alpha Ragnar.
The paper slips from my numb fingers.
It flutters to the floor in slow, damning motion, landing face-up like an accusation. I spin around too fast, knocking my stool back.
It scrapes the floor loudly, the sound rather novel in the quiet of the Alpha’s private quarters.
My drawing is now fully exposed and in it is the Alpha Ragnar in his birthday suit with an obscene look.
“I… I-Alpha-I can explain–this isn’t–”
Words spill out of me in a tangled rush, breathless I crouch and try several times to pick up that damned drawing.
My tongue trips over itself in panic as I try and fail several times to pick it from the floor.
“I wasn’t, I didn’t mean–I mean I did but not like that–gods, please don’t–”
I stop because I physically cannot keep going. My lungs refuse to cooperate as I run out of air and my mouth tastes dry like cardboard and parchment paper.
Ragnar just stands inside the doorway.
He hasn’t moved since I started sputtering. His arms are folded in front of his broad chest in a relaxed manner. I don't think lightly of this patience and calmness not even once.
He can snap my neck in a second if he wants.
He looks at my shaking hands and sniffing nose then back at the drawing in between us still on the stupid floor… His arms are folded across his broad chest, posture relaxed in a way that feels deliberate.
He doesn’t speak.
The silence stretches between us.
It stretches until my ears burn red and my wolf curls in on itself, whining softly inside me.
Well that's all I'll get as support from Alisander I guess.
Time passes with me inventing new ways to be killed since every second feels like another nail sealing my coffin shut.
“You draw me,” Ragnar says finally.
His voice is calm. Worse than if it were anger.
“Often too by the looks of it.”
The word hits me like a blade sliding between my ribs and turning.
My throat tightens painfully.
Heat crawls up my neck, across my cheeks, down my spine. My body betrays me, reacting to his presence with enthusiasm I absolutely do not need right now.
“You seriously cannot be having a boner now!” I mentally chastise Alisander who's busy preening for attention.
“I… yes.” I manage.
My voice sounds thin and small as I end my response.
He takes one step forward.
I want to follow with a step backwards but he raises his eyebrows and I drop my foot.
Then he takes another step towards me.
Each step tightens something invisible around me.
Alisander, that traitor, rolls over his back without my permission intentionally submitting without even consulting me first.
So I grip the edge of the desk, stopping myself from appearing weak.
“Why,” Ragnar says.
It isn’t a question I want to answer.
“I can’t,” I blurt.
My head shakes violently, my curls falling into my eyes like a shield. “I can’t answer that.”
Alpha Ragnar hums softly.
It’s a sound of consideration for me so I sigh in relief .
“You will,” he says.
Then his Alpha voice unfurls.
The voice doesn't require brute force or aggression.
It slides into me, into the marrow of my bones, pressing down until resistance because not only difficult but impossible.
My breath hitches and everything in me is screaming that I tell him the truth right now.
My knees weaken so I rely once more on the desk.
“Tell me the truth, Sebastian.”
The command settles and this time I don't fight it.
I can't win anyway.
“I’ve watched you for as long as I can remember Alpha,” I say, the words tearing free of my lips without my permission. “Since before you unified the packs and before your many scars. I've watched you train and I watched you fight. I've practically memorized things about you.”
My mouth keeps going even as tears sting my eyes.
“The way your shoulders tense when you’re angry. The way your voice drops when you’re deciding between life and death. The scar on your collarbone you think no one notices but I’ve drawn it a hundred times from my memory alone.”
My chest aches.
“I draw you because I can’t touch you Alpha Ragnar,” I whisper, shamefully this time. “Because this is the only way I’m allowed to want you without you hating me. The only way you'd look at me like I want you to.”
The truth burns coming out.
My body reacts to it with cruel pleasure –heat pooling low at my nether regions I'm pretty sure he can smell.
My pulse is loud in my ears, and my humiliation? It is even more shameful when I realize just how obvious my arousal is. I want the floor to open and swallow me whole.
I stare at the stone tiles instead of at him.
Alpha Ragnar doesn’t speak.
Instead, he reaches out.
His two fingers hook under my chin firmly lifting my face until I have no choice but to meet his eyes.
The contact lasts barely a second.
It is devastating.
Invisible mental threads connect from his gaze with placidity, calming me down.
A slow smile curves his mouth, predatory, amused and something else flickers there.
Something dangerous.
Interest. If I want to delude myself.
“My mate,” Alpha Ragnar sighs, almost to himself.
The word detonates inside my chest.
My eyes widened in shock at his statement.
Before I can breathe, before I can speak, before hope can fully form–
He steps back.
And just like that.
The bond snaps taut as his presence withdraws.
He turns away, already dismissing me, his cloak shifting over his shoulders. At the doorway, he pauses, glancing back with a glint of humor in his eyes.
“Interesting,” he says lightly.
And then he’s gone.
The door closes.
I remain where I am but I am shaking violently now.
I fall to my knees clutching the ruined drawing to my chest like evidence of a crime I can never erase.
My face burns for a lot of reasons and my heart , that treacherous organ, refuses to slow down.
My body was still high and humming in pleasure of the aftermath of the Alpha voice and my own shame.
I want to die.
Right here.
Right now.
I want to howl.
Alisander exhales beside me, finally materializing from where he’s been pretending not to exist.
“Well,” he says carefully, trying and failing to sound casual. “He didn’t punish you.”
“That’s not comforting,” I croak.
“He didn’t reject you either.”
I swallow hard, staring at the closed door, with Alpha Ragnar’s scent lingering in the air like a promise I don’t deserve to hope for.
A stupid ray of hope blooms in my chest.