Page 16 of Chained By the Alpha
Landscaped gardens surround his pack house, made of stone and wood which appear to stretch for miles. “Yes, I do, unless I have to stay in the city for work,” he confirms, and I follow him out of the car, wincing in pain as my leg protests.
Zayn looks down at my leg. A trickle of blood runs down the inside of my thigh. I groan, about to reach back into the car to look for a tissue when suddenly, my legs go out from under me. I shriek, grabbing hold of his shoulders before coming face to face with Alpha Zayn.
“You never should have come out here,” he grumbles before stalking toward the house.
“I’m fine, put me down,” I snap at him when he jostles me, grabbing a handful of my bare ass peeking out from under my booty shorts.
“Keep thrashing, and I will toss you over my shoulder,” he warns. So I stop, glaring at him instead. However, he doesn’t seem to mind my death stare; instead, I see the ghost of a smile tug at the corners of his lips, which makes my blood boil.
“What’s wrong with you?” I demand as he carries me through the front door.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he replies, his lips curving into a smirk.
“You show up at my pack house and wake me up wearing fuzzy booty shorts and bunny slippers, with a fever, looking ready to drop dead in my driveway, and now you’re bleeding all over me. What is wrong with you, Cleo?”
I flush, suddenly aware of how ridiculous I look. “You didn’t have to bring me here, I was fine outside your gates!” I snap.
“Well, you’re here now,” Alpha Zayn says, setting me down on a couch in the living room. “Let’s see to that leg of yours,” he chuckles.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, feeling irritation rising in my chest.
“You,” he chuckles, “I can’t decide if you’re brave or just plain foolish.” “I’m not foolish,” I say, scowling at him.
“Really? Breaking your father’s punishment and coming here on your own to an Alpha’s pack, an Alpha you barely know?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “What if I don’t let you leave?” he taunts, and I stare down at him. He looks at me, his lips curving into a smile when his eyes flicker.
“You won’t hurt me. You’re not that stupid; it would start a war,” I tell him.
“My pack is the largest in the country. Do you think I fear war?”
I chew my lip nervously. Him saying that really puts things into perspective as to how foolish this indeed is.
“Or your old man of a father? Pfft,” he snorts. “Never let your kidnapper take you to a second location,” he growls, and my eyes widen in horror at his words, having heard that once on a crime documentary. I curse myself again. Am I his willing victim? When I palm him in the face, he grabs my arm, trapping me, so I bite him as hard as I can.
“Ouch, what the fuck, you damn cannibal! Chill, I am just playing; if I wanted to hurt you, I would have killed you when we were trapped in the freezer!” he snaps at me. I let his arm go, pulling away to see I made him bleed. He looks at his arm and rumbles.
“You took a chunk out of me! I should bite you back!” he growls.
“Who says something like that and expects someone not to react to it?” I spit back at him. He growls and glares at me. “You’re impossible,” I mutter under my breath.
Now, finally peering around, I see the packhouse is just as impressive on the inside as it is on the outside, with soaring ceilings and ornate furnishings.
A huge fireplace sits in the center of one wall, and a huge flat screen sits on another. “Stay here. I will get something to patch your leg,” he tells me, wandering off.
When he returns, he gestures for me to lift my leg. I do so reluctantly, realizing relieving the pain is worth sacrificing my pride. He examines the wound on my thigh. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he cleans the wound and applies a bandage. “There,” he says when he’s finished. “See, you’ll be fine.”
“Thank you,” I say in a small voice, feeling extremely awkward.
“Now, what brings you here?” Alpha Zayn asks, taking a seat next to me. His eyes are intense as they lock onto mine, sending shivers down my spine.
I take a deep breath. “I know you hate my father,” I start, and he raises an eyebrow at me. “But my father is making decisions that are hurting our pack, and he won’t listen to anyone.”
“I don’t get what this has to do with me,” he asks. Zayn watches me carefully before sighing. “This is about your border patrols, isn’t it?” he says, and I chew my lip.
“Your father refused my men on his borders. There isn’t much I can do,” he tells me.
“He’s angry, please. You can’t remove your men; we’ll be sitting ducks out there, and my father is too stubborn to listen,” I admit.
“I have no alliance with your father. My hands are tied; the last thing I need right now is the human factions getting involved if a war breaks out because your father attacks one of my men.”
