315- The Night He Chose to Claim Her
POV Viktor Averwyn:
Jasmina in the forest, kneeling among the trees, a baby in her arms. Her fear when she saw me. My hatred. That different odor I had sensed in the child—faint, but still present in the lifeless body. Not mine. I tried to discover whose it was. Which male she had betrayed me with, but I couldn’t.
Over time, the doubts remained. There was no way to prove it, and I killed her before she could tell me, driven by rage. Years later, I still searched, had suspicions. Even of the alphas—more specifically Konrad and Lucian. But I forgot the scent, and it faded from memory.
It was there now, in the hair of the woman unconscious in my arms. Very similar to the dead baby’s, though I couldn’t be completely certain after so many years.
That scent could only be detected when transformed. Everything pointed to Konrad being the father of Jasmina’s baby.
Hatred flooded me with full force.
I would find out what happened in the past—and what was happening now.
That redhead in my arms would give me answers.
Or I would kill her as I did the traitor.
I placed her on my bed, still unconscious. Standing, I observed her carefully.
A small, fragile, and beautiful human. Long hair in a profusion of intense copper curls, with blood sticking some strands together. Very pale skin with freckles on her face and cascading down her body like golden dots. Eyebrows and lashes a shade slightly darker than her hair. Delicate features, full pinkish lips.
The white cotton nightgown had stains and splatters of blood. Scratches on her arms and face, perhaps from running through the trees. The wound on her forehead had closed, but the swelling hadn't completely subsided, nor had the redness around it. In time, all of that would heal further.
I didn't know the severity of the internal damage from the violent blow to her head. I'd only know that when she woke up. She might need medication, and here we only had medicine for our species. The common human pharmacy didn't work well on us. And Aldren's herbs would have no effect on her.
I let my gaze travel over her body, in a mix of sensations. The scent of tulips and nutmeg mixed with his and the metallic smell of blood. She pulled at me as if an invisible force bound us together, while simultaneously pissing me off because of it and because of all the questions.
I wanted to understand how this stranger, my ex, and Konrad were connected.
Irritated, I ripped off my jacket with the torn sleeve, throwing it onto an armchair. It was one of my favorites, and I doubted the seamstress could fix it. It wasn't an easy fabric to find; all my clothes were custom-made with imported material.
That bastard's claws had also torn the shirt underneath, and I discarded it along with the jacket. My skin was undamaged, completely healed. I took off my boots and socks. Wearing only my black pants, I went to a corner where there was a tray of drinks and glasses on a sideboard.
I poured myself a generous dose of țuică and sat in the armchair by the window, facing the bed. I took a long swallow, utterly concentrated on her.
When I'd left there that night, disturbed by that persistent aroma, I hadn't imagined I'd return with a stranger in my arms. Nor any of the strange things that had happened.
I observed her bare feet, dirty with dried mud, on my finely crafted bedspread. Minuscule. Well-shaped legs, the nightgown bunched between her thighs. Slender, but with curves, a pronounced waist, rounded breasts with shaded nipples. She was a delicate little thing that bewitched me.
I couldn't take my eyes off her. A strange desire shook my insides, clouded my judgment. I needed to think, and she distracted me.
I took another long swallow, tense, aroused, furious. Until I finished the drink, leaving the empty glass on the table beside me. I appreciated every piece of her, while my mind worked seeking answers. That's when my cell phone started ringing, discarded on the dresser.
I stood up, enraged upon seeing the name on the screen. Son of a bitch!
"You fucking coward! Why didn't you stay and fight?" I growled, pacing and stopping again beside the bed. Fixating on her face.
"Return the woman. She's mine," Konrad said quietly.
"Come get her."
"You don't know..."
"How dare you call me, after everything? Who is she? Why were you going to kill her?"
"Stay out of this, Viktor!"
The tone he always used, the defender of good morals and properness, was gone. His voice was cold, with a trace of barely contained rage.
"Good to know I have something you want." I lowered my voice, struggling not to show how much all of this was affecting me. "Seems it wasn't the first time. With Jasmina too. Why don't you explain that?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The child she was expecting. It was yours."
Hatred purged in my chest. The redhead remained unconscious. Konrad stayed silent, his breathing heavy.
Both from the same village, the same blue house. With his stench on them.
I squeezed the device, stopping before I shattered it between my fingers.
"I'm not to blame if you were betrayed. Is that why you killed the woman and the child?"
"I smelled you on the baby."
"The way you are, if that were true, you would have attacked me already. You're making it up! I have nothing to do with Jasmina or her spawn. Give Seraphine back to me! And let's forget this shit!"
Seraphine. That was her name.
I paced the room like a caged beast, fighting the rage that was eating me alive.
"I thought I was the only wolf lurking around the Roma village. Now you've made me curious. Do you have a thing for humans, or were you following me there? If you got Jasmina pregnant, why didn't you claim your son, and why did you let me think it was mine?"
"That's insanity from your head."