Chapter 8 #3
Fern paused. For a moment, she was disappointed, and then confused. Perhaps Hyde was right that he meant to petition her himself.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted that or not.
“Wait… what do you mean? Why?”
Darion looked at her, tongue playing with the tip of his pointed canine, and then he said, “You are too new. They are reacting to you as men, but have yet to meet you as wolves. I will wait until after you have a few shifts under your belt before I will consider their requests.”
That… was good. She hoped it was good. In fact, it was probably great.
It didn’t seem there was any getting out of such an arrangement, even if it horrified her.
But if the wolfkin who had petitioned her were told to wait, that would at least weed out the ones who weren’t serious.
Who perhaps only wanted her because she was new, as Vedia had suggested, leaving the ones who were more gentle and patient.
Like Jules.
But he somehow mistook her relief for dismay. “I wouldn’t worry too much about the wait. You’ll be birthing pups for the clan before you know it.”
Fern could not stop the snort and roll of her eyes, as though that was what concerned her.
And then Darion’s tone turned dark. “Did I say something amusing?”
Oh… oh no, she’d forgotten to school her features. Her lips quivered, and she tried to think of a way to explain her reaction. “N-no, Alpha, sir, I just… I am honored to birth children, I mean pups, for the clan and—”
He bared his teeth in a snarl that had her shrinking into herself and looking away. Anywhere but his face. “I can taste your lies, she-wolf.”
Fern whined again, but this only served to enrage him further. He took the empty pitcher from her, then grabbed her arm and spun her around, pushing her towards the wall. She only just caught herself when he pressed himself against her, hissing in her ear.
“Do you think so little of what is being offered to you? There are Solvekh who would beg for the chance you so casually mock.”
Tears stung her eyes, fear clawing at her tongue. “I-I’m sorry, Alpha. Forgive me, I—”
“Do not waste words on toothless apologies. No, you will find no absolution there.”
He took one slow step backward, letting her go.
“Hands behind your back.”
The moment she complied, her whole body shaking, he spoke again.
“You will remain there until I dismiss you. If you turn around, speak, or move from that position, we begin again.”
“A-Aye, Alpha.”
She could not see him, but she could hear his own labored breathing, until finally he left, grabbing a book from a shelf and moving towards a chair by the fire. He ignored her as he flipped the pages so quickly she wondered if he was actually reading them.
Fern tried to calm down, tried to be thankful he hadn’t taken a hand or belt to her as her father had on the few occasions he’d been that angry with her.
But the pain that blossomed in her shoulders, arms, and back grew into something worse than a sharp sting that lessened with time.
It was an ache that stole her breath and her thoughts, making it impossible to pretend to be somewhere else. There was no escaping the present.
Her shoulders burned, a deep molten throb spreading down her upper arms until her fingers began to tingle and then slowly numb. The muscles between her shoulder blades spasmed every few breaths, each twitch sending a fresh lance of pain down her spine.
The stone before her was cool against her forehead, but even that small point of contact soon became agony, the pressure building and building until it felt as though the wall might split her skull.
There was an itch at the tip of her nose she could not scratch, and sweat slid in slow trails down her ribs. One calf cramped so sharply her knee nearly buckled, and every instinct screamed at her to move, to shake it out, to do anything but remain trapped inside her own trembling skin.
Behind her was only the soft turn of another page, the crackle of the fire, and Darion’s measured breathing. All proof that while her body slowly unraveled, he remained perfectly at ease, and the humiliation burned hotter than the pain.
She hadn’t even meant for it to escape her lips, but when a soft whine sounded, Darion’s voice cracked through the room like a whip.
“You spoke.”
Could something so wordless and involuntary count as speech? She didn’t think so, but she didn’t dare argue.
“We begin again.”
She pressed her lips together as hard as she could, tears streaming silently down her face and chest shuddering with each soundless sob.
Fern did eventually learn to lose herself to the pain, the tingling numbness that came in excruciating waves. She rode each one without any more whines or whimpers, wishing he’d just beaten her and gotten it over with.
She did not know how much time had passed when the book finally slammed shut.
Relief hit too fast, her body trying to obey a command it had not yet been given. Her knees buckled at once, and cold blackness surged up to meet her as her head struck the stone floor.
When she awoke in her bed hours later, her pillow was gone.