Chapter 7 - Rissa
“P-please…” I whimper with fear trickling down my spine. The hot licking flames surround me, the voluptuous heat torturous as it kisses my cheeks, sending bolts of stinging pain coursing through my veins.
The fire is everywhere, consuming my vision in spots of gold and emerald that surround me. The only evidence that I’m still alive is my racing heart and the feel of soft blades of grass beneath my feet.
Panic rises in my throat with traces of acidity burning my tongue, rendering me speechless as I part my lips to call out for help.
No sound comes from me, but there’s hissing and alternate roaring as the flames dance before my eyes.
I lift trembling hands to my throat, which suddenly feels constricted as if a malevolent force has its tendrils around my neck, choking me to death.
But death doesn’t come when the flames before me part as if they’d just been compelled out of the way by a gust of wind. They waltz to the sides, parting like curtains on a stage that opens up to an act that makes my eyes widen with shock.
A dark silhouette stands between the hot flames, a male figure whose broad shoulders taper into a refined waist. His sovereign chest puffs out when he breathes, and a thick, muscular arm reaches out for me.
I’m no longer struggling to breathe as if the faceless man’s presence comes to soothe me. I feel my brows knitting with a fleeting frown that passes as I reach out in response and place my hand on his palm.
Warmth spreads through me then, but it’s not frightening like the fire was. It soothes me and calms my breathing, allowing me to catch the smell of sweet florals through the smell of burning wood.
Though I can’t see his face, there’s a sense of familiarity that allows me to step forward and lay my head on his chest, the roaring and hissing sounds of the fire fading and allowing me to feel safe enough to close my eyes with a sigh.
A chorus of chirping birds prompts me to open my eyes to find that we’re standing in the forest during the thick of summer, between vibrant flowers blooming all around us.
The golden sun in the sky casts a warm glow on my tanned flesh, and I follow my arm until I find my hand perched on the shoulder that was only a silhouette before. Now, that shoulder belongs to a bunch of muscles beneath creamy skin, my fingers covering a tribal tattoo on a firm chest.
I gasp when I recognize the distinct pattern, having seen that body ink on someone during Alpha training. I wasn’t the one treating him, but I caught a hazy glimpse of his chest through the square frosted window of the door to one of the other healers’ rooms.
“Alpha Brooks…?”
As soon as the name slips off my tongue, I look up to find the most intense pair of silver-gray eyes staring at me with a sinister smile.
I instantly pull away, and the moment I lose physical contact is the moment the sky darkens and the flames consume me again.
I close my eyes and whimper, and when I open them again, I’m faced with the indent on the bed where a body had been.
My breath comes out in a wheeze, and I realize that I’d been dreaming. But my relief is short-lived, because my pillow is soaked with my sweat, and the all-consuming heat is present in reality.
I’m jittery, my body shaking uncontrollably when I’m faced with the excruciating pain in the pit of my belly. My whole body is alight with fiery heat, only one small spot soothed where fingers are pressed to my shoulder.
I snap around and glare at the face of the man from my dream, accusingly frowning at him as if he’s responsible for this sudden onset of nagging pain in my core, like contractions during childbirth—something I’ve only seen other she-wolves from Snehvolk experience as I acted as their midwife.
I grab my belly with both hands as I attempt to gain a semblance of control over the cramps.
“What…?” I ask, my eyes flitting to the hand Brooks removes from my shoulder.
He gulps remorsefully, then pulls his hand away. “You’re in pain,” he says matter-of-factly, a drawn-out breath escaping him.
I narrow my eyes at the alpha, attempting to sit upright when a slicing pain grips my insides and makes me feel nauseous.
When Alpha Brooks reaches out as if to offer a helping hand, I quickly forge through the pain and gather myself into an upright position on the bed, hugging my knees to my chest.
“I’m fine,” I murmur, staring blankly ahead as the memories of my dream come crashing forward.
How is it possible that I’d found solace in the arms of my enemy?
“You’re not fine, Rissa,” Brooks sighs despondently beside me. “I know what’s wrong, and you don’t have to hide it from me.”
Stifling the sudden urge to whimper from the gripping ache in my belly, I curl my legs closer, hugging them more tightly as I keep my eyes pinned to the mustard-colored wall ahead, trying to distract myself with thoughts about how little care the pack took to make this hut homely.
As a safehouse, it wasn’t meant to be warm and welcoming, but they could have used a different shade of paint instead of having it look like it’s been plastered with river sand.
The distraction only lasts a few seconds before my body is seized by ripples of pain that have me wincing and clutching my knees even closer. Though I’ve never experienced this pain before, I know exactly what’s happening to me.
I’m in heat.
It’s a curse that befalls any she-wolf over the age of eighteen, especially vicious in the presence of a male werewolf. It’s only ever been a dull ache during the ovulation period of my natural cycle as a female, bearable, so I’ve never felt like I’m dying.
This is worse than death, I’m sure of it, and Brooks being around doesn’t make this any better.
In fact, it’s much worse simply because he’s around, in the tight space of this tiny hut, and my irritation steadily turns to anger.
I’ve always been able to sleep off my ovulation phase by taking a break from my duties at the clinic. It’s worked for nine years, and I’ve never felt the need to let a male touch me or be this close.
I’ve also never felt so angered by a male. Glaring daggers at Brooks, I grunt.
“You have no idea what’s wrong with me,” I growl ferociously. “Just leave me alone.”
Brooks takes a deep breath as he straightens up, his eyes equally as challenging as he stares me down. “I can’t leave you alone, Rissa. You’re in heat.”
I scoff to hide my embarrassment. Damn him for being an alpha with the ability to sniff me out!
“I—” I’m about to rebuke his claim when another bout of pain takes over. Riding it out by digging my nails into my knees, I bite the inside of my bottom lip. “I’m not in heat!”
“You can’t lie to me, Rissa,” Brooks clicks his tongue. “I know you’re in heat, and I can help.”
Scoffing again, I roll my eyes and pointedly snap my face away with disgust. “Hah! As if I’ll sleep with my bully!” I snap bitterly.
Brooks sighs and turns, proceeding to the kitchenette near the window without a word. There isn’t much time for me to bother watching him when I’m gripped by pain again. This time it’s so severe that it has me rolling onto my side, still hugging my knees as I writhe in torment.
The brutal lashes slicing my insides are too unbearable, springing tears to my eyes and rendering it impossible to mask with silence. Whimpering and squealing, I’m on the verge of sobbing, only stopping myself because Brooks is around.
I hate that he’s here to witness me in a moment of weakness. My worst enemy, watching me ride out the effects of the most horrible heat I’ve ever experienced. Truthfully, it’s never come close to this in the past, but it’s only because I never cared to be mated.
Not that I care now, I think as the pain slowly subsides, allowing me a moment to breathe.
“Here,” Brooks says firmly, prompting me to turn my face that hides behind my curls.
He’s standing over me with an outstretched arm that leads to a mug in his hand. I notice the wisps of steam curling from the top, and wonder how long I was out for.
It was obviously long enough for him to prepare a piping hot, steaming mug of herbal tea.
“I heard this helps reduce the pain of a she-wolf’s heat,” he says, nodding to the mug.
I sit up again, tentatively reaching out to take the mug. I’ll do anything to avoid the obvious cure for my heat, and sip on the tea as I mumble, “Of course you’d know.”
“I am an alpha, Rissa. It’s my job to know these things,” Brooks chuckles, and I feel myself blushing through the dampness of my feverish sweat.
I didn’t think he’d heard me…
The chamomile and lavender essence in the tea is what calms me down, letting the pain slip away into a mild, dull ache while my fever continues to burn my body. Brooks’s immense presence as he watches me forces me to look away, a word of gratitude hanging on the tip of my tongue.
He doesn’t deserve my kindness, but I can’t help it. I’m always the over-giver, the one caring about others before myself, and I end up turning my face to him as I clutch both hands around the warm mug.
“Have your injuries healed?” I ask, deducing that not much time has passed since we’d found shelter in the safehouse. The hut is still covered in darkness. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”
Brooks shifts uncomfortably on the chair he’s perched on, a frown flitting over his face. “It was kinda hard to get any rest while you were tossing and turning and making all kinds of noises.”
I gulp hard, letting my eyes drop to the mug as I absentmindedly swirl what’s left inside. “Hmph,” I huff under my breath, hating the awkward silence that stretches and Brooks’s looming presence not far from me.
“I have healed, though,” he finally reveals with a sniff. “Whatever you did must have quickened the process.”
“I didn’t do anything special,” I murmur, to which Brooks scoffs.
“Maybe it’s something you’re not aware of yet, but it worked nonetheless.”
I turn my eyes slowly toward him, thankful for the veil of unruly curls that hang on the side of my face.
It’s not like I needed the reminder of my special gifts.
I have no idea how they’re tied to my healing abilities, if they are at all.
I just don’t want to think about it right now, still adamant to escape the clause that binds me to the Snehvolk Pack with this magic.
My overthinking brain is abruptly cut off from thinking up ways to escape when I’m hit by a flurry of pain once again.
The mug falls out of my hands when a bolt of agony shoots through me with such intensity that I fling myself face-first onto the bed.
My cries extend beyond the shattering ceramic on the floor, and I clutch my belly as I wail.
“P-please!” I pleaded as if crying out for the Moon Goddess’s salvation through this unbearable torture. Writhing in torment and sobbing, my throat becomes dry as if I’m hauled back into that dream I just woke up from, and I’m back in the treacherous fire.
My savior comes once again as a hand on my shoulder, providing enough comfort to be noticeable through the pain. Squirming and wheezing, I look up to find Brooks hovering above me, his mere presence alarmingly soothing at this time.
His silver eyes are glazed over with earnest concern, his brows knitted as if he can’t stand to see me in so much pain. As much as he’s comforting, I hate that it has to be like this, that it has to be my worst enemy worrying over me.
“Rissa,” he says gently, but another lick of pain forces me to turn my face away and focus on getting a semblance of control over it.
“Not now, Brooks! Just leave me alone!” I wail, wanting to escape the pain, wanting to escape him, but not sure how to achieve either.
“I can help you, Rissa…”
I shake my head fervently, not wanting that kind of solution.
I hate Brooks, and I won’t sleep with him, even if I’m on my deathbed.
“No! Just leave me alone! I told you—hng! I told you I’ll never sleep with you!”
“You wouldn’t have to sleep with me, Rissa. I wouldn’t even take my clothes off.”
Something about his statement sounds genuine, prompting me to turn fully and pull my hair back to reveal my frown.
“Wh-what will you do, then?” I mutter, and Brooks sighs as he sinks to his knees, maintaining enough distance to show that he isn’t trying to be forceful.
He looks up through the veil of his sleek, dark lashes, forehead covered with the tresses of black hair that sweep across.
For a passing second, my heart skips a beat when I spare a moment to appreciate how gorgeous he appears right now, my fingers tingling with the sudden urge to trace his sharp, prominent jawline and feel the stubble on his flesh.
I reduce the ravenous thoughts to my inability to be logical through the haze of my heat. But when Brooks looks at me consolingly, something shifts in his gaze, and I feel like whatever he offers will be too tempting to refuse.
“I’ll make you orgasm,” he whispers with a nervous gulp. “And I won’t even remove my clothes.”
His enticing offer comes just in time, because I’m hit by another bout of unbearable pain. Not seeing an end to the torture ripping through my gut, I nod nervously, the words of consent falling through begrudging lips.