Chapter 24

Chapter 24

“Vulnerability is the only bridge to true connection.”

Unknown

“Excuse me?” I said, completely flabbergasted. “What the hell is a reckoning, and why does he need to face one? He was already thrown into the dungeon.”

Once again, I wracked my brain for any memory of a ‘reckoning’ from Ava’s book, but I couldn’t remember Scarlett, or any other character, mentioning one.

If they had, it must’ve been in one of the sex scenes I’d skipped.

And from the way Dr. Li kept glancing at the door, I could tell she probably regretted her decision to tell me.

“Perhaps Alpha would be the better person to explain this to you,” she said hesitantly.

“Well, up to this point, he hasn’t explained anything about a reckoning,” I shot back, “So I’m not sure that’s true.”

She sighed with resignation.

“Truthfully, they don’t happen very often,” she explained, “My entire life, I’ve only seen three of them, but they’re a big deal. A reckoning can only be called by the current Alpha, and it’s usually because someone has stepped out of line or offended him in some way.”

I almost started to say how the man last night had done nothing to Alpha Enzo before I stopped myself.

If I was Enzo’s mate, then attacking me probably was a big offense.

The guy hadn’t gotten very far, but it still made my stomach drop to imagine his gleaming, angry eyes staring down at me, ready to commit some sort of cruelty. I didn’t like to think about how the rest of that night might’ve gone if my knight-in-shining-pajamas hadn’t shown up, but my brain could conjure up a few scenarios. None of them good.

I certainly had no qualms about keeping the guy in the dungeon, where I didn’t have to worry about him roaming around free, but a reckoning?

“You said that a reckoning is a public punishment,” I said, “But what kind of punishment is it?”

She shrugged. “It’s whatever the Alpha wants it to be. Whatever he thinks is fitting for the crime.”

*Well, that’s not very specific.*

“Shouldn’t I get a say in this?” I asked, “I mean, he attacked me. If anyone should be picking out punishments, shouldn’t it be the girl with a bruise on her arm?”

Another shrug.

“You’ll need to take that up with your mate, Luna. I’m just answering your questions,” she replied, and began heading for the door.

Just as she began to turn the knob, she turned back to face me one more time. “I know it’s an unusual tradition,” she said, “But it *is* effective. There’s a reason there has only been three of them for as long as I can remember.”

With that, she slung her medical bag over her shoulder and strode out the door.

I was already lost in thought before the door closed.

I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about this new information.

I didn’t know the man from last night – and he had tried to hurt me because I was human – but the whole thing felt like overkill. It was one thing to keep him in the dungeon so he couldn’t hurt anyone else, but to make a public spectacle out of it?

Kind of felt like watching your boss ream out the new employee in front of everyone after they fucked up some paperwork. It might’ve been the employee’s fuckup, but nobody likes watching another person sob in front of their peers.

I could only imagine what this reckoning was going to feel like.

*Maybe I should just stop thinking about it. It’s none of my business anyway – it’s not like I’m staying here. If Alpha Enzo wants to punish some guy for leaving a bruise on my arm, maybe I shouldn’t get involved.*

*It’s just another distraction, and I need to stay logical.*

I was so stuck in my own head that I barely noticed the bedroom door creaking open again as Alpha Enzo sauntered into the room, a wooden tray balancing in his hands.

Almost on cue, my stomach growled.

I’d been too stressed out to feel hunger for most of the day yesterday, but my stomach was slowly rumbling back to life.

It probably didn’t help that the tray of food in his hands smelled divine.

He approached me with a smirk, propping up the tray between us on the bed for easy access.

The food looked just as delicious as it smelled.

The tray was piled high with pancakes, fluffy eggs, bacon, sausage – pretty much the entire breakfast menu of most diners.

My mouth was already watering at the sight.

*If he’s trying to keep me from running by fattening me up…it might just work.*

“I hope there’s something to your liking,” he said, finally drawing my attention away from the food. “I haven’t learned your taste buds yet, but if the gurgling of your stomach is any indication, you’re overdue for some carbs and protein.”

I flushed. “You can hear that?”

He raised a scarred eyebrow at me, and I was beginning to wonder if that was his signature move. “Not only are my senses supernatural, but they’re far better than most of my kind, love,” he replied, “I can hear more than just your stomach.”

“Like what?”

“Like your heartbeat,” he said casually, “It pumps at eighty-three to eighty-five beats per minute most of the time, which according to the internet, is well within the normal range of human heart rates.”

“That’s…specific.”

“It’s not just your heart beat either,” he continued, “I can hear the air entering and leaving your lungs. Your blood rushing through your veins. The click of your joints.”

“And that doesn’t annoy you?” I asked, “All that noise just sounds like it’d be annoying.”

He stared at me, completely serious, as he said, “No. I like knowing these things. Knowing you’re okay, knowing your body is functioning as it’s supposed to…it calms me. And my wolf.”

There was a beat of silence before he added, “It’s not just my hearing either. I can see the small details too.” Slowly, he reached out a finger and touched the middle of my forehead. “Like here, there’s some sort of little mark. Maybe an acne scar from when you were a teenager.”

His finger moved down until it ghosted over my eyelashes. “And your eyes. I’m sure most humans would tell you they’re milky brown, but I can see flecks of green near the pupil.”

Him staring at me, knowing he saw more than anyone else – even me – was uncomfortable. I felt exposed, aware of every sound, every twitch of my body.

Vulnerable, which wasn’t something I felt often. If anything, I went out of my way to avoid feeling that way.

I swallowed, and immediately wondered if he could hear my tongue press against the roof of my mouth or my muscles squeeze and relax.

“I don’t…”

I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Most of my ex-boyfriends could hardly notice a new haircut, let alone the remnants of my pimply skin as a teenager.

*There I go again, grouping him in with my ex-boyfriends like he’s even in the same category.*

*But those relationships, no matter how poor, were at least consensual.*

*I can’t say the same about this one.*

Probably picking up on my unease the same way he picked up everything about me, he changed the subject. “You should eat before it gets cold.”

I nodded.

Eating. I could do that (and hopefully not think about him being able to hear every part of my digestive system).

I made to pick up one of the utensils, but he slapped my hand away before I even got close.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

My eyebrows shot to my hairline.

“What are *you* doing? I thought you wanted me to eat. That’s what I was trying to do.” I gestured to the towering plates of steaming food.

With a blank face, he replied without hesitation, “Yes, but you were trying to use a fork.”

I just stared at him.

*What the hell kind of game is this?*

*Is he withholding food until I confess my love or something?*

“Should I have used a spoon? A knife? Chopsticks? I’m not picky,” I retorted sarcastically.

Alpha Enzo didn’t seem amused. “This is our first meal as mates together,” he said casually, “It’s tradition for me to feed it to you.” He was looking at me like I was already supposed to know this.

“Feed it to me?” I echoed, “Why would you feed it to me? I've never heard of this tradition.”

I’d ask Scarlett or Dr. Li about it the next time I saw them, but once again, I had no memory of this supposed tradition from Ava’s book.

I’d almost believe he was making it all up if it weren’t for the dead serious look on his face.

“I’m surprised you don’t know anything about it,” he replied, his eyes narrowing skeptically. “Then again, despite mysteriously showing up on my land with a werewolf, your knowledge of our kind seems quite…spotty.”

“Spotty is one word for it,” I muttered to myself before turning my gaze back to him. “But I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself. I don’t see any reason why we need to go through all that hassle.” I reached for the fork again, but this time, he pulled the entire tray away.

“It’s tradition,” he said flatly.

“Humans have a lot of traditions too,” I shot back, “I mean, it’s typically tradition for us to *choose* our life partner, but we don’t appear to be following that one, do we?”

He stared at me, undeterred by my very logical argument.

I stared back at him.

Our eye-contact lasted for at least a minute as I tried not to blink my now-watery eyes, but eventually, another grumble from my stomach echoed through the room and I broke his gaze.

The last thing I wanted was to be spoon-fed like a child, but I was starving.

And the food did smell delicious.

I could sit here and continue to argue with him for the sake of my pride, but logically, it’d be pretty pointless. Even if I ended up getting my way, it would probably come at the cost of cold food.

*And everyone knows that cold eggs aren’t good.*

*Besides, it’s just a dumb werewolf tradition, and I’m not a werewolf. It doesn’t mean anything to me.*

I sighed.

“...okay.”

The victorious smirk that lit up his face almost led me to rescind my words almost immediately, but I didn’t.

He used the same wooden fork he’d kept from me moments ago to spear some of the fluffy, seasoned eggs, and lift them to my mouth.

I debated keeping my lips sealed shut in rebellion – just for a second – but after some hesitation, I opened my mouth.

And let him feed me.