The Alpha's Obsession

12: Return

Word Count: 1,917

He's here with me. In my home. I don't remember inviting him here, to my sacred place. I've been numb ever since I saw him standing on the beach. Nothing I do or say can be comprehended by my clouded brain. I feel as if I'm on some sort of autopilot that I cannot escape from.

He's lounging on my couch, his heavy feet propped on my fragile glass table. The urge to tell him off is strong. It's on the tip of my tongue, but it won't slide off into the open. I'm not sure what is wrong with me. I feel weak and depleted. No fight in me left.

He flicks through the channels quickly, not letting it sit on one channel for even the briefest moment. A deep scowl is planted on his face, marring what I once thought was perfection.

Disgust bubbles up inside me, wanting to spill out.

I want to ask him to leave, but he may be my escape out from the messy werewolf world I seem to have gotten myself into.

I want out and I hope he can be my key.

I'm not sure how long I'm standing by the window staring outside. The deep snow that once graced the ground has dissipated slightly. A light dusting covers the ground but not enough to cause any trouble. I remember faintly, him telling me that he had never seen snow before.

He'd get sick of it sooner than later.

I know I did.

I heard him get up from the couch, rising up. He was watching me closely, wondering what was wrong with me. Ever since we had left the lavish hotel, he'd been cautious with me.

Wary.

I couldn't blame him though. Lately, I had been temperamental and unstable towards him. It wasn't intentional, it just happened. I wanted to apologize for my attitude but whenever I go to do it, I seemed to freeze up and sputter out like an old motor.

I had never been an explosive person but something inside of me was pissed and he just happened to be the only person that I could let it out on.

Honestly, he was taking it surprisingly well. He would let me get out what I needed to say without interrupting. He would then give me a few words of input, give me a hug and a kiss and leave me to stew in my intense anger.

Seeing him not get angry, infuriated me to no end. I wanted him to get angry at me. To yell, scream, anything.

But he'd do nothing.

"Eva." His voice calls out to me. It's soft and cautious. He's not sure what type of mood I'm in and doesn't want to disturb the beast that lies inside of me. I don't want him to be afraid of me but it seems it's a little too late to fix that.

Hell. I'd be afraid of me if I was him.

I don't turn around to face him when he speaks my name. I don't want to see his face anymore. Just thinking about it makes my stomach roll in disgust.

He tries again. "Eva." His voice is driving me crazy. His presence is no longer what I want. It's making me physically sick, my insides churning.

He's getting closer now. I can almost feel his body on mine. If he touches me, I'm not sure what I will do. I hope he won't.

The churning in my stomach is worse now. It wants to empty out what I've fed it.

If I open my mouth now, I know what will happen. I won't be able to stop it and for some reason I don't want to. Maybe this is what I need to cleanse my body from the buildup of stress over the last few weeks.