Chapter 6 "Follow me"

Chapter 6 "Follow me"

He stood in the doorway, his huge frame silhouetted against the light. His leather armor was torn and stained with blood, a streak of mud dripping red down the curve of his arm. The scent of iron and sweat washed over me like a tide. Two of his warriors stood next to him, their arms reaching out to support him, but he shoved them back with a raw, guttural sound that was more beast than man.

“I said I’m fine,” he snarled, his voice a low thunder that silenced the murmurs in the room.

He staggered towards an empty cot at the back, collapsing onto it with a heaviness that had the wooden slats creaking in dismay. The usual whirlwind of co-operative commotion in the infirmary hesitated, all the heads focused on the Alpha. A few of the female workers, their faces a mix of worry and a flicker of something more personal, moved towards him with basins and bandages.

"Alpha, please, let me," one of them said, resting her hand on his arm.

Garrick's head snapped up, his grey eyes sweeping across the room before resting on me. They flashed into mine with searing passion. "No," he said, his voice firm. "Anika. Anika will do it."

They all turned and stared at me. I felt the heat of their stares, a combination of interest and anger. My fingers clenched around the fabric I was holding, the cold material folding under my fingers. This was a show, one of his games meant to pull me into his orbit, to remind everyone, including me, about whatever claim he had on me. For a moment, I considered denying his request, as an instant of defiance, but defying him in front of his pack members was something I was not ready for. It would only cause a scene, and I was already the main attraction.

Laying down the linen with slow deliberation, I walked towards him, I took the basin and clean towels from the other woman, pretending I didn’t notice her sharp glare. I knelt next to the cot, the stone chill seeping into my dress. The wound looked worse up close, a ripped gash in his side. My stomach clenched with a knot of anxiety that I tried to ignore. I told myself that I wasn’t worried about him, my reaction was a normal response to a visceral injury.

I dipped the cloth in the cold water, the water already stained with the pink hue of the blood as I began to wipe off the blood from the cut. My fingers were distant and effective, my focus only on what was required of me. I willed my fingers not to shake but it was hard, with his eyes on me, a heavy, tangible pressure that moved from the tips of my fingers to the crown of my head. The space between us crackled, thick with a tension that had become our default.

I dared to glance at his face, but he wasn’t looking at his wound, he was looking at me with a faint, smug smirk playing on his lips despite the pain he must have been in. He leaned in, his breath a hot whisper against my ear that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. “I love that you’re worried about me.”

The presumptuousness, the arrogant self-assurance, angered me. I stepped back, glowering at him with cold flat intent. "I'm not worried." I continued my focus on his arm, administering a searing antiseptic to him with more than necessary force, but he didn't even flinch. "I am fulfilling the purpose for which I was brought here. I am being useful."

I distilled all my resentment concerning my situation into that word. Useful, like a traded commodity, a servant and a pawn in a game I didn’t know the rules of.

The smirk faded from his lips, for a moment, a wave of raw, unhooded sorrow swept across his eyes, so raw and feral that it shocked me. Then it was gone, sweeping into the impenetrable face of the Alpha. Before I could continue or even process the look in his eyes, he moved.

In one fluid motion, he stood up. His good hand grasped my wrist, his fingers clenching like a cuff. "We need to talk. Now."

The order was loud, for all to hear. I struggled to break free, my heels scarring on the floor. "Let me go. I am not done."

The infirmary was utterly still now, we had become a spectacle with all eyes on us, his jaw tightened. He leaned in close, his mouth inches from my ear as his lips brushed my ear, sending a tingle down my spine. Another wave of his scent; blood, sweat, and masculine Garrick, washed over me.

"You don't get to disobey me in front of my pack," he breathed, his voice low and deadly. "If you don't follow me this instant, I'll bend you over my knee and spank that defiance out of you. And I can smell your arousal, Anika. Don't pretend you wouldn't enjoy every moment of my attention."

Heat exploded in my core, a seething fluid hunger that made my head spin. My traitorous body reacted before my brain could catch up, a flush spreading from my cheek to my neck. He was right, and the humiliation of the truth, mixed with the thrill of his threat paralyzed me. The image of him spanking me was vivid, shocking, unbearably erotic.

He saw the surrender in my eyes before I could voice it. A dark satisfaction glinted in his eyes. He said nothing, but caught my arm, and this time my struggle was over. My legs marched stiffly behind him, as he led me out of the stifling infirmary, along a narrow corridor, and out into a small secluded balcony which commanded a view down over the training ground.

The chill of the night air was a shock to my hot skin. The moment the door closed behind us, he released me, letting go of my wrist. He stepped back to regard me, against the stone railing leaning once again, his predator's smile restored. "It’s too bad you followed me, I was really looking forward to the spanking."

I crossed my arms over my chest, a feeble attempt to shield myself from his scrutiny and the heat still seeping within me. I attempted to scowl at him. "Why did you bring me out here ?"

His smirk dropped, to be replaced by firm determination. "The rogues who ambushed us today were different."

I stared at him, anticipating a joke. "What's that have to do with me?"

"Typically, rogues are brutal and feral. They attack with hunger and without strategy. These ones…." He scowled, his eyes scanning the woods growing darker by the moment. “moved like trained warriors. Like they had a specific mandate from someone."

A cold knot formed in my stomach. I untucked my arms, my hands feeling cold all of a sudden. "So?"

"So," he said, his eyes snapping back at me, sharp and furious. "My gut tells me it has something to do with the traders."

The word struck me like a body punch. I took a step back. "What?"

"The attack was a test, it wasn’t entirely real. They were probing our defenses, the traders have been becoming bolder and reaching further towards our borders. Their modus operandi is changing. This stinks of their new ambition."

My amazement became anger. "And you're telling me this because you'd like to hear my opinion? Or because I was traded? You'd like to use what I've witnessed and use me as a pawn?" My voice rose, the anger providing sufficient protection against the desire and the fear. "You believe that since I was passed back and forth between their hands, I'm an expert on their tactics?"

"I just think you might have overheard or caught something," he told me, his voice gruff and dead, a foil to my growing hysteria. "Something. A name, a location, a slogan. Something they would not bother to hide from a….." He hesitated, but the omitted word rested in the air: From a captive. From a commodity.

"How do you know?" I snapped back, my hands clenched at my sides. "You just said that, it's a gut feeling."

It's a feeling," he admitted, straightening away from the railing and taking a step towards me. The air between us snapped with electricity in that moment. "A strong one. My instincts have held this pack intact until now. And now they're grumbling in my ear that this somehow has to do with the traders. I need you to trust me."

A hurt, shattered laugh ripped from my lips. "Trust you?" The venom and anguish that coursed through me colored the words. "So that you can gain my trust only to toss it aside when it is no longer useful to you? You hold me close and push me away. You demand obedience without providing integrity. Why in the world would I ever trust you?"

His face became serious. The domineering Alpha gave way to a man who held secrets. "There are things I do not yet have the privilege of telling you. Things which can put you in more danger than you currently are. But I am not lying to you here. There is danger, and I need your help."

The admission shocked me. Garrick, Alpha of the ridge, was saying that he needed me. Not as a vessel, not as a servant, but for my mind. For my history. The fury slowly ebbed from me, leaving in its wake a confused jumble of feeling.

The memory of his words, the scent of my own arousal he'd so crudely pointed out, the honesty now in his eye; it was too overwhelming for me.

The air between us was thick with the things that had been left unsaid. The tension was a thrust-and-parry of hunger and anger that left me breathless. He needed me. And that was the most dangerous proposition.

Finally, I let out a heavy, tired sigh and slumped my shoulders in defeat. I didn't look at him, but instead gazed out into the trees, that hid so many threats

"I'll think about it."