The Exiled Alpha | ✓

14 | Going Too Far

When I wake up, the room is dark, lit dimly by the light of the fireplace. I sit up with a soft groan, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

The first thing I notice is the plastic removed from all the furniture. The second thing is the aroma of tomato sauce in the air. And the third is Riot sitting on the other end of the couch, watching me intently.

"Food?" I murmur, the heel of my hand still pressed against my eye.

He leans forward to grab something off the coffee table and presents me with a steaming plate of spaghetti. It's warm to the touch and I take it graciously.

Curling the noodles around my fork, I try to brush off the feeling of his eyes on me. Expecting him to talk is far from realistic. So I don't bother getting my hopes up.

A few minutes pass by, my chewing uncomfortably loud in the otherwise quiet room. Finally, I can't take it anymore.

"Riot?" I ask, looking up from my plate.

"Hm?"

"Who are you?" I know who he is. The entire pack constantly whispering and talking about him made sure of that. But somehow it seems surreal. So surreal in fact, that I need it to come from his lips instead of a jittery pack member.

There's a pause, only seeming to confirm my answer past what words could.

"I think you know." His expression doesn't change, but his eyes let something slip. There's a flash of something, there and gone in half a second.

I swallow. The soft sound of metal tings as I drop my fork on the plate.

My voice is barely above a whisper, like I'm half afraid of what will happen at saying the title, "You're the Exiled Alpha."

Another pause. I lose my appetite.

"Yes."

This is who everyone has been making a fuss over. The one they shake in their own skin at just the thought of. This wolf in front of me is a single tyrant who has made every Alpha fear for their position ever since word of his exile got out.

Something within me didn't want to believe that before. It's almost as if, subconsciously, I had dismissed everyone's talk of being nothing more than rumors.

But rumors don't sit in front of you and agree with you.

"Eat," he urges, noticing how I'm staring blankly at my food.

I shake my head, "I'm not hungry."

I uncross my legs and get up from the couch, taking my plate and an empty one from the coffee table, presumably his. When I walk past him I avert his gaze, keeping mine to the ground.

This shouldn't change anything. Knowing who he is and accepting it should only deepen my understanding of him. But it doesn't. It only complicates what already has my head in a mess.

What wouldn't sink in before now starts to. The fact that this infamous figurehead has taken me captive and refuses to feel the bond between us. It's unreal. It's... frustrating.

Suddenly I whirl back around, sitting the plates down on a nearby stand as I do so.

"Why are you resisting?" There's heat to my words, all of the pent up frustration leaking out, "I know you feel it, so why are you fighting it? Am I really that goddamn terrible?"