Consciousness comes in the form of Riot's bare chest against my face and his arm wrapped around my torso like a python. I don't bother waking him up. Instead I attempt to gain my freedom by rolling over, which only triggers that aforementioned python to go on lock down.
Through the open curtains on the wall straight in front of me, I can see the blackness of the outside. Dreary and dark.
A crack of thunder rumbles through the house briefly, vibrating the bed gently. Riot nuzzles his nose into my disheveled hair, still asleep. It's as if, even unconsciously, he's showing me that he's still there. I smile before closing my eyes again.
• • •
Morning rolls around and when the sun comes up it stays dark outside. The heavy patter of rain drums on the roof above, creating a relaxing sort of lullaby.
We're both awake now, but neither one of us makes a move to get up. My arm is thrown lazily across his washboard stomach, one leg tangled with his while my temple lays his shoulder. His arm is wrapped around me, making me feel once again safe and sound.
He presses a kiss to my forehead, melting me from the inside out. He has this way of always being intimidating— whether he's threatening the lives of others or putting butterflies in my stomach. The unfairness of the power he has drives me crazy. But maybe that's why it took him so long to accept this; because he feels the same way.
"Are you ready to get up?" His morning voice sends shivers down my back.
I groan. I never want to get up. How many more chances like this will I get? "Do we have to?"
Right then, as if on cue, my stomach decides to recite the symphony of a starving whale, growling unrealistically loud.
"Yes," he chuckles, poking me right above the belly button. He untangles our bodies and sits up. Immediately I feel lost without his added warmth and firm embrace. A pang of vulnerability shoots through me and I quickly knock it down.
From where I'm laying, I catch glimpse of the little black symbol made into his skin. A dire descendant. I know what that mark means and the history of it. But what about the other peculiar thing etched into his flesh?
When he stands up and stretches the muscles of his back glide fluently beneath his skin. I can almost feel my pupils dilate.
"Nooo," I whine and stretch my limbs. I'm not ready to leave this moment yet. And when I reach out for him, he's not long coming back to me. He sits down beside me on the bed, tucking one leg beneath him.
My eyes land on the three long scars running diagonally across his pec. The only other flaw that marks his flawless body. I haven't thought that much about it before. How he got that scar. All I know is that it came from his own hand.
I put my hand overtop of his and raise them both up to his chest. With my fingers overlapping his, I line them up perfectly with the grisly claw mark. It's like putting the missing piece in the last slot of the puzzle.
"Why did you do it?" I ask quietly. There's so many mysteries about this wolf. And I want to know every single one.
He arches an eyebrow, catching my fingers between his and curling them into his palm. "Do you really want to know?"
YOU ARE READING
The Exiled Alpha | ✓
Werewolf"It's like he's a different breed of werewolf. Something... beyond us." • • • Adrienne Gage has spent her entire life being shunned and punished for her mouthy attitude, and being loyal to a pack which doesn't deserve her loyalty. It's been a year...
