Chapter 61 61
ARIELLE'S POV
He was looking down at me, but his eyes weren’t focused. They looked… lost. Dazed, almost. It was the strangest thing I’d ever seen on his usually razor-sharp face.
Then, as if a switch had been flipped, his eyes twitched. He seemed to suddenly get a grip on himself, a faint shudder going through him. His expression slammed shut, back to the cold mask, but now there was an edge of… discomfort? He took a quick, deliberate step back, putting more space between us in the room. It was so blatant, like I was a furnace radiating an unbearable heat he needed to escape.
His voice, when he spoke, was hoarse, rough. “If you’re done checking, leave. You can move in on Sunday.”
“Not Sunday,” I said, finding my voice. “Tomorrow. Saturday.”
He snapped his gaze to mine, and for a second, something hot and dark flashed in his eyes. “So eager to get close to me,” he said, the words low and dripping with a meaning I didn’t understand.
“What?” I squinted, completely confused.
He didn’t explain. He just turned on his heel and walked out of the bedroom, down the hall. I hurried after him, my own irritation returning. I almost collided with him again on the porch as he stood staring out at the gathering dusk.
“You—” He groaned.
“Sorry, sorry,” I apologized hastily, cutting myself off, sounding like a flustered idiot. He just gave me that deeply irritated look that always felt like a physical prick.
Fed up, I walked a few paces ahead of him on the porch and then turned to face him, forcing him to acknowledge me. He was looking off to the side again, his jaw tight.
“Um,” I began, crossing my arms. “I’m sorry I walked into your room earlier. But…” I paused as his eyes finally swung to mine. “I didn’t appreciate your tone, Alpha Aeson.”
His brows creased. But, unusually for him, he didn’t retort. He didn’t put me in my place or remind me I was essentially his subject now. He just… looked. Then he made to walk past me, off the porch.
That’s when my eyes, trained on him, caught it. A dark, angry mark on his upper arm, just above the muscle. It was fresh, the skin broken in a distinct pattern.
A bite mark.
Without thinking, driven by a sudden, impulsive curiosity, I reached out and grabbed his wrist to stop him, my fingers closing over the warm skin just below the injury. “Your arm—”
His head whipped around to look at me, his eyes wide with surprise, then something else—a flash of panic? I quickly let go of him, realizing what I’d done. Touching an Alpha without permission was a big no-no.
“You got bitten?” I asked, the question falling out. It wasn’t out of concern, not really. It was pure, burning curiosity, sparked by the memory of the hooded stranger in the woods who’d fought Logan but got bitten.
Was he…the stranger?
He just stared at me for a long second, then pulled his arm behind his back, hiding the mark.
“You should leave now,” he said, his voice back to that flat, controlled tone. “It’s getting dark.” He motioned down the gravel path that wound through the trees. “It’s just a five-minute walk to the pack’s main entrance. You’ll be fine.”
I didn’t want to pry further. His dismissive, brush-off attitude sold it—he definitely couldn’t have been the stranger. Someone like him, who clearly found me annoying, would have probably enjoyed watching a sharp-mouthed girl like me get what was coming to her. He wouldn’t have intervened.
I nodded, the strange moment passing. “Okay. Thank you for the apartment.” The words felt stiff.
I turned and started down the path. But after a few steps, an unknown, nagging feeling gnawed at the edge of my mind. The encounter in the woods flashed behind my eyes—the silent, powerful stranger who unfortunately I couldn't catch a good glimpse of his face. Logan’s furious attempt to fight him off. The groans from Aeson’s room and the shattered window glass. And now, that fresh, distinctive bite mark on his arm… The pieces seemed to hover in the air, almost connecting, pulled by an invisible thread of possibility.
I shook my head hard, as if I could physically dislodge the thought. No. Don’t be ridiculous. Seeing connections where there were none was a sure path to madness. The Alpha of Dead Moon Pack was not my mysterious, hooded savior. The idea was laughable.
As I reached the bend in the path, I glanced back, one last look at the little cottage.
He was still on the porch. A dark, tall figure silhouetted against the fading light. He was watching me go. Not with anger, or irritation, but with an expression I couldn’t decipher—a cold, confused intensity that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.
God help me, I thought, turning away and hurrying my steps toward the gate. He’s really, truly weird.
I just hoped I could manage to survive living in his territory.