The Alphas Guard

Chapter 6

I stood in his office, Luca's office. Indeed, it was a wonderful room. Made of cobblestone and surrounded by candles that stayed lit day in and day out. There was only one window, though that window took the space of the entire back wall. Leaning on it made me feel like I was flying, but I feared I would break it more than I feared falling out of it.

The paper he asked for laid on his desk; the bullet-pointed list of what could have been rotting all the crops.

A sudden shiver overtook my spine at the thought of that soil.

It didn't feel foreign - just - vacant. Dark. Wierd.

I would say it even made me feel wavy, but that would have made me seem high, which was not one bit classy in a castle full of wealth and coin. Though I have to admit, I would not decline an offer to smoke an ivy weed. Just not in front of anyone I knew. Luca especially.

"That was fast," I spun around at the sound of his voice, "I didn't expect it until later today,"

"I had nothing better to do," I shrugged, "plus, 10,000 crops sound important,"

He was wearing a different shirt, a black short sleeve. It exposed the boulders on his arms and the tan of his warm skin. The mere sight of it made my stomach squeeze, and I had a feeling he knew it did that to most females.

"We have 4000 more fields, each wielding 8000 to 12000 crops, I think we can let this one slide," He picked up my piece of paper with a young shrug, "43 bullet points? I hate to admit this but I never even thought a Wargon was even an option here,"

"Wargons are a witches favourite pet, Luca. They cling to them like hair on skin. Some can even live within a witch. Their energy can kill chlorophyll just by passing by it," I said as-a-matter-of-fact, "but you're right, that's unlikely considering we're in a shielded castle,"

His strong fingers clenched the delicate piece of paper, denting it. The action confused me, but it also kept me silent. He looked strained; even his jaw was tight. I was afraid he would grind those perfect teeth of his.

Luca gently placed my list back onto his desk and took a deep breath.

"My name sounds delightful on your lips,"

My cheeks flush and I immediately looked downwards.

I didn't know what to fucking say.

He sounded so- so potent in those few words of his.

"Tell me, Leila," He stared at me through his hooded eyes, "how old are you?"

Immediately, I felt defensive- intimidated, "How old do you think I am?"

His brows went up at my question before he began walking towards me. He didn't stop until his face was mere inches away from mine- almost like when we were back at the field. I felt trapped - but it was a new kind of trapped. A comfortable form of suffocation. It was just me with my back against the glass and him stopping me from moving elsewhere.

"24?"

I shook my head.

"27?"

I shook my head and furrowed my brows. I knew for a fact that I didn't look 27.

"I'm all out of answers, you have the brain of a 40-year-old woman," And just like that, the sultry mood of his office turned light again.

"I'm 18,"

His brows rose for the nth time that day before he took a step away from me, as though I'd held a knife to his stomach. The action deeply offended me, but I decided it was best I did not voice out my offence.