Callan had ridden to the infirmary, and luckily, the pack’s physician, an older man with a stooping back and a croaky voice, had declared that the scald had only affected the outer layer of my thighs, and it was nothing my wolf side wouldn't be able to heal on its own in a day.
He had his younger apprentice massage a soothing balm on the affected area, and I was made to sit upright on one of the beds in the building. Callan sat quietly next to me.
His silence unnerved me. Everything these days did.
He had barely said a word as I was getting inspected by the physician. He’d simply watched the process with a darkened expression on his face, his jaw occasionally twitching from how tightly held it was. I wished I knew what he was thinking, but I didn't think it was right to ask until I couldn't hold it in anymore.
“Is there something wrong?” I asked, my eyes on him, and I watched as he purposely avoided my gaze, maintaining eye contact with the view outside. The sun was setting early, and its pale orange color had settled outside, streaming into the room.
“Is this how badly they treat you?” he asked after a while, letting the silence that followed my question simmer for a bit.
I shut my eyes at his words. There it was—that nauseating feeling that I was being pitied.
“It's nothing I'm not used to, so there's no need for your sympathy,” I said.
“And is it so bad? Feeling sympathetic towards you? You obviously aren't living your best life.”
I could hear the tinge of anger in his tone and so I kept my eyes shut.
“You never had to work as I have, Callan. You have only been an owner of people like myself, and I don't know how you missed it, but you as an owner can do whatever you feel like with your property.”
“Would you stop that?” he snapped. “Stop belittling yourself like this.”
My eyes opened immediately, and I watched him. “Belittling myself?” I asked with a tone of incredulity. “I am not doing anything that hasn't been done before. Please do not expect me to be someone who is blinded to her reality and chooses instead to bury her head in a web of fantasy.”
“Oh, I know enough about you now to not expect that,” he said with subtle dry humor.
I was stupefied. “What is your problem?”
“My problem, Sophia, is that you let them treat you like you are worth nothing, and such treatment has gone long enough that you’ve somehow begun to mete out the same to yourself. Can’t you see that?”
No, I couldn’t, and I hated that yet again he was analyzing me, breaking me down into tiny, minute pieces for his further understanding. I hated it so much, the fact that somehow Callan had become the one person I didn't want seeing this side of me, and now, he was.
Was it true then? The question rang in my head, furthering my plight. Was I really now treating myself as insignificantly as they did? I shook my head frantically. That was ridiculous. He was ridiculous “You don't know me, Callan,” I said in a small, unrecognizable voice.
His features softened, probably detecting something in my voice that had to go vulnerable on me, or was it my face? I had never been able to properly conceal my emotions from being expressed in my countenance, and I had to do better in that aspect.
He shifted from his position, veering forward until his knees touched the frame of the bed. I watched as he reached for my hand before changing his mind and placing it back on his knees. A wave of disappointment hit me at something that trivial.
“I don't mean to act as though I do, love, but you have to realize your own worth. You're better than all of them combined. What use is a person’s elevated status if they have such a rotten personality?”
I almost scoffed. Personality? It was almost as if Callan lived in a completely different world where bias didn't exist and everyone loved each other regardless of wealth and status. I knew for certain such a place didn't exist, and he was simply being kind with his words, but I didn't want his kindness. I needed him to admit to the truth.
My eyes met his that were steadily on mine, waiting.
“You must realize that the segregation in this pack does not categorize based on personalities. I have never belonged to the upper part of the hierarchy, and even when my birth tried to cheat nature and brought me into an aristocratic family, look at what has become of me. What was it Radley had said? A sham, isn't it? You know all about this prejudice against people like me by people like you, so please, Callan, do not tell me I have no reason to see myself as I do because actually, I have plenty!”
He didn't seem in the least bit fazed by my words. “Do you even have any idea the pleasure they amass from seeing you like this? Watching the feeling of unworthiness swallow you whole? It is what they want. It is what they both want. A person can take control of you physically, but only you, love, can grant someone else access to your mind, and you have done just that.”
Was this how putrid the truth tasted, or had the first fraction of bile that had risen to my throat reached my tongue? Whatever it was, I forced it down the same way I did Callan’s words. I didn't want to believe him. I didn't want to let go of the validity of the words I’d always held on to for so long even if he was making sense in every way that revolted me.
“I am tired now. Would you allow me to rest a little?”
As I watched him stand up and walk out of the room in easy strides, I wanted to take back my thoughtless words and call out to him. I wanted him to sit next to me as he had. We didn't have to say anything because as it had just been proven that conversations had a way of ruining things between people.
It would have simply been nice to have him in the room, his presence filling it up and me falling asleep to his scent wafting through the air. Maybe him walking away was a good thing and I had just been too head deep in fantasy, which was in stark contrast to my earlier claims. It had only been dependent on which fantasy.
The cold air from the window was only beginning to lull me to sleep when I heard the door creak open, and my eyes snapped open immediately, my heart soaring in anticipation—that was until I saw it wasn't Callan returning.
“Dimitri,” I said, hoping my voice didn't convey the dismay I felt at seeing him instead. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes darted about the room, and he reached my bed with hurried steps. He grabbed my hand, undisguised apprehension etched on his face.
“You have to listen to me, Sophia. Promise you will,” he pleaded in a frenzied voice.
My eyes moved to his hand holding mine, and I was barely able to contain the whimper that threatened to escape me.
“Dimitri,” I called in horror, “what happened to your thumb?”