Chapter 32 Getting Pampered
Kristen's POV
The pain in my head is earth-shattering when I flick my eyes open. It feels like someone repeatedly slammed a baseball bat against my head, the whole time I was asleep. My body feels like a jellyfish too and my throat is itchy, as if I have closely packed wounds seeking refuge there.
I can't tell if it's in the early hours of morning or evening, but the day isn't as bright as it should be.
I am perspiring, drenched in my own sweat. The sheet covers and the bed is equally soaked.
My mouth stinks like it housed a dead mole for a couple of hours, and it's so gross because I've never lacked proper hygiene.
Did something happen?
Suddenly, it dawned on me what exactly happened.
I mistook pure alcohol for an orange juice, almost drank it all. Now I can't remember anything.
Where the hell is Calhoun?
We were supposed to leave here and head back home to Mom, but because of my stupidity, we're still here.
Or did he leave me all alone?
Paid punches out of my lungs because there's no sign of him here.
In a gradual process, I leave the bed. My head is banging and I am still staggering. The alcohol is still in my system, so I am holding onto the walls for support as I walk, afraid I'll lose my balance and end up on the floor.
"Calhoun?" My voice is hoarse as if I am using it for the first time in a long while, as I look around the cottage in search of him.
Fear grips me at the thought of having him abandon me here and return to my mother.
Will I spend the night here alone? When it's just this cottage here and one cannot even find a single soul. The whole place is surrounded by bushes and it's far away from civilization.
"Alpha Calhoun?" I add his title to his name this time, so he can respond if he's still fucking here.
But my voice is so low, it doesn't come out louder than I intended.
Oh my god, it feels like I'll throw up right now because my chest feels so tight and not free at all.
Relief cascades through me when I see him in the kitchen, with his back to the door.
He seems to be jamming to some rock songs because he has his headphones on.
If it isn't for the tiny black boxers he has on, he could've been naked. But I don't fail to appreciate the broadness of his back. How heavily built he is.
I can't tell what he's doing to his body right now because there's obviously something hot in a bowl right in front of him, and his right hand is pressing a white towel to his body.
My hand moves and pats into his surprisingly warm back.
Quickly, he turns in my direction.
"You're awake," Calhoun's blue eyes are intense as he looks at me.
I gulp, recoil a step backward when he puts his headphones down and tries to touch me.
"What's wrong?" Calhoun appears confused.
"Every part of me stinks, just don't come any closer," my eyes travel up from his chest and down to his stomach, and an audible gasp erupts from my mouth.
He has bruises there. Bruises that seemed to be healing gradually. I can tell they were deeper and more serious before.
Calhoun, who immediately notices this, hurriedly puts on a shirt to cover it, but it doesn't change anything because I did see it. He was bitten, those aren't ordinary bruises but bite marks.
Bite marks from a wolf.
"Did you get into a fight with anyone?" This question leaves my mouth before I can even think.
Calhoun's mouth parts and he sighs heavily, while his shoulders rise and fall.
He isn't saying anything, just staring at me like I am a precious piece of jewel that he's meant to protect.
This just sparks my fear even more.
"Tell me what exactly happened, Calhoun," my voice is more audible now, distinct than when I first woke up.
"Nothing happened, Kristen," he brushes this off and nears my side once more.
I'm moving backward, trying to get away from him because he hasn't responded to tell the exact truth. On the other hand, my skin is sticky and I stink so bad that even I want to get away from myself.
But Calhoun still closed the gap between us with laughter in his eyes. This makes me close my eyes in dismay as I back the wall. "Get away from me," with my eyes still held tightly in their sockets, I put my hand over my mouth as I made this yell.
There's a deafening silence for some time, except for the music sounding from his headphones that I'm certain are resting on the kitchen island.
Calhoun's snicker prompts me to flick one eye open and look at him.
He tips his head down to catch my gaze, with a huge boyish tight-lipped smile playing on his lips. His hand resting behind my head and the other right behind me.
The way his blue eyes are searching mine right now just doesn't settle well with me.
"Please go away," I implore with my hand still covering my mouth.
My plea is muffled so I won't blame him if he doesn't make out anything from what I just said.
Calhoun throws his head back and laughs. His shoulders are shaking along with him while he's at this.
He's so painfully beautiful right now, that I can feel my heart slamming down my ribcage, and at the same time wondering if this moment is real.
Upon taking my hand off my mouth, I lower my head down to my chest and, "Please, get away from me. I stink."
"Then let's get you cleaned up, hm?" Before I am given a second to let my brain fully comprehend this, my feet are in the air.
He's holding me up right now and taking me into the bathroom.
Heat crawls up from my neck to my cheeks at this but it's short-lived because vomit rises in my throat.
My hand taps him until he releases me and in a rush, I take a leap to the sink.
There, I puke my guts out.
Calhoun doesn't leave.
He's supporting me by pushing my hair away from my face and stroking my back.
When I feel slightly normal, I let go of the sink and slump on the cold floor.
"Kristen, are you okay?" Calhoun set the sink to flush and picks me up through a one-hand lift.
"I don't feel as bad as I did before," I say with a sigh.
"Good," he smiles at me and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear for the second time this evening.
He strips me naked, fills the bathtub with lukewarm water, and slips my body in it.
I haven't had anyone bathe me since age seven, but Calhoun is doing it with caution right now, even washing my hair with a shampoo.
His gaze is so serious as if he was given a heavy task to do.
C'mon Kristen, he's Alpha of all Alphas in the East.
My eyes almost water with tears when he rinses my body, wraps a thick towel around it, and lifts me out of the bathtub.
This is what fathers do to their little girls, right?
I don't even know what it feels like to have one, because I've never met mine.
But Calhoun has my heart right now.
He holds me and lets me brush my teeth too.
It's just so sweet of him, still afraid to enjoy this feeling.
"I can't wear my clothes. They're dirty and sticky with sweat," I tell him when he puts me on bed.
Calhoun doesn't answer to this, instead, he goes through the closet before returning with a shirt and briefs like the one he has
on.
I put the clothes on by myself and sit back on the bed.
Calhoun brings me a glass of something yellow like urine.
"What's this, piss?" Note the sarcasm.
"Just drink up, Kristen. It's for your hangover," he doesn't put the cup in my hand as I assumed, he nears my side, holding the glass to my lips instead.
Because I trust him, I shut my eyes and drink as he instructed.
The warm drink shoots through my throat and transports into my body. My hands grip Calhoun's hand which is already
securing the cup, as I drink until the whole glass cup is empty.
"How is it?" He puts the cup aside and returns his gaze to me.
"Tastes bland but it is indeed medicinal, the migraine and tipsiness is subsiding," I say.
"Good," Calhoun puts his hand on my thighs, "I'm glad you're here to get better."
I don't say anything else but fumble with my hands, because I don't know whatever he meant by that.
"We can't leave tonight, right?" My heart feels like it'll tear right out of my chest when my mind drifts over to Mom.
"We leave tomorrow," Calhoun responds.