Chapter 26

Chapter 26

His pace slowed when I stopped in front of the packhouse, and I was appreciative of that.

My breathing was shallow, and I knew I needed to sit down before I passed out, even though I had no idea where I was meant to go. As I ran through a pair of doors and into a kitchen, I evaluated the building's construction with a predetermined mindset.

The cooks turned to see what was going on; everyone in the pack had stopped to observe my confused situation. Their Luna, wild and filled with tears, was their mate for the Alpha. As I shuffled into the room, they cocked their necks slightly and widened their eyes in disbelief. I turned around the massive island and dove behind the side that faced away from the door, using my hands to balance myself on its edge.

I was trying to hide in a familiar place for him. I knew it was a foolish decision, but I had nowhere else to turn. Our smells blended together, and I could feel him becoming closer. Even though I knew I would never be able to hide from him, I pressed my body up against the cupboards and covered my head with my arms in a futile attempt to hide.

When he came into the kitchen, I heard him. When he opened the door, the fury of his presence nearly rocked the house. The room was filled with welcomes, but the intensity of his smell rendered me unconscious. I cradled my arms around my head and held my breath, hopelessly filled.

Perhaps he would abandon me, believing me to have ventured farther into the house, but I had devoted witnesses to my hiding place.

"I apologize for having to disturb your work, but I'm going to have to borrow this room for a little while." His remarks were kind and well-crafted, befitting a leader. The employees started to shuffle and circle around me, following their leader.

I just hoped I had picked a better hiding location before it was too late. But it was useless; I was unable to move further and had completely run out of energy when I collapsed to the ground. It didn't take long for him to discover me, as I felt the room empty and put my palm to my mouth. I couldn't comprehend the guilt in his look as he stood at the edge of the island, assessing my physical condition, and my resolve to avoid him wavered.

A new sob swelled up in my throat as he stepped towards me. He froze where he was, taking in the sound, and briefly closed his eyes as though he couldn't bear to look at me in this situation.

He leveled his own breathing, a scowl of agony on his face. He appeared to be in pain, which I took to mean that I was also in pain, even though I still didn't know why.

I was ready for him to despise me, but I wasn't ready for this—for his regret or compassion, for his urge to embrace me and make sure I was alright. If he had known what had transpired a few seconds ago, he would not have desired any of these things from me. If he had known the real reason behind the pain in my veins, he wouldn't have been standing here staring at me in this manner. I would find myself back in one of his cells, bound and shredded. Rather, I was slouched on the ground in his pack kitchen.

I leaned my head in his direction and looked at him, forcing my face out of the protection of my arms. I gulped as my eyes scanned his figure; his body was rigid, nearly all of it on display for me. With the exception of a pair of shorts that stopped in the middle of his spectacular thighs, most of his flesh was bare; only a few moments earlier, I had been pressed up against his body and was unable to take advantage of it.

His eyes fluttered open, and I looked down.

"You don't want me to come any closer?" I gave him a brief nod, averting my gaze slightly to hide the flush that was starting to appear on my cheeks. With a groan, he bent forward to rest on the countertop.

He made an effort to accommodate my wishes for him to avoid me, even though he didn't appreciate them.

He didn't like it at all, but I needed some time to come to terms with what had happened. His hands clenched at his sides, and his jaw muscles jerked. I needed some time to collect myself before I lost it once more.

"Just for a few minutes, I need to catch my breath—you make it hard for me to breathe most of the time," I muttered, feeling the urge to justify my statements.

I did not appreciate the fact that he was angry with me because it caused my chest to hurt. I was so overcome with guilt when I saw him in this way that I couldn't help but believe that all I ever did was aggravate him.

I turned to face him again as his heart began to pound more forcefully and his breath stopped in his throat at what I had said. My confession caused him to furrowed his brows, but neither of us said anything. We exchanged a wordless look, but suddenly my body twisted and his eyes shifted away from my face. I bit the inside of my cheek sharply, but it didn't accomplish anything. Derrick was aware of every ache in my body and was sensitive to it.

"I didn't mean to hurt you." With the insistent gesture of flexing his fingers, he tried to distance himself from me.

The wounds he had caused were still bleeding and healing more slowly than they should have.

"I know."

Now that I knew he was unaware of my identity as a witch-blood wolf, I took his claims to be true.

"I need to check your wounds." His physique was on the edge of something explosive; he left no space for debate.

He was beating himself up for hurting me and fighting his own war.

I saw his fists clasped at his sides once more, his muscles tensing with the strain of his thoughts. I gave his remarks some thought, but from this point on, there was only one thing that we could both do. I wasn't sure I could handle dealing with Derrick's wolf again, and he needed to know that the wounds weren't that bad.

"Okay." He moved with my approval after I gave my OK.

He was swift on his feet, crouching at my level to gently pick me up off the floor and place me on one of the countertops. His palms heated up against me, but his contact was brief. Fortunately, he hadn't noticed that I was out of breath and had red cheeks as he turned to face me and took out a first-aid kit from one of the drawers.

He turned back to face my blouse, which was covered in blood. He ran his fingertips over the fabric and then pulled at the hem. Unprepared to grasp his wrist, my foolish brain let out an eerie moan as my hand hurriedly extended to do so. His eyes darted over my face in surprise before focusing on me and understanding.

"I need to lift up your shirt to see the damage, angel." I see a faint sparkle appeared in his eyes, and I was overcome with desire to melt before him.

If he hadn't noticed the blush of shame on my cheeks earlier, he had noticed it now.

"Lift up your arms." There was nothing I could do but obey his gentle demand.

He took his time, softly pulling my blouse away until he was staring at my bare skin. Now that I was in my bra, I felt his gaze flicker across the lace fabric as my hands sprang up to encircle my chest. I shouldn't have been bashful about it; he had seen me with less and like this before, but my tolerance for him was wearing thin, and my weaknesses were still hurting me in the chest.

His eyes narrowed at my motions, but he remained silent. Rather, his attention went back to the matter at hand. The gashes in my sides evoked recollections from my past, appearing more macabre and bloody than they actually were. As I tried to balance myself by gripping his bicep, I felt agitated and let out a pitiful whimper, but it appeared to enrage him even more. He believed that I was experiencing physical agony, but I was actually battling with mental pain.

I took a big breath and tried to comfort him.

"It doesn't hurt—he yelled at me before I could finish."

"Kylie, don't tell me lies. "There is no need to spare my feelings when I know you have no regard for them, given that I am the one responsible for your misery." His remarks struck a nerve because they were acrimonious and possessed a piercing edge.

It didn't mean I didn't care at all, that I didn't care in the way he wanted me to.

"What is that supposed to mean?" The words made me feel guilty because they were defensive. I grasped his hands, wishing he would look at me instead of tending to my wounds.

"I'm your mate, and you told me to leave; you didn't seem to care about my feelings then." My heart stopped when I saw every strand of agony pulsing through his eyes. His eyes dropped to my chest once more, and I knew he had heard it.

"I don't want you to hate me." He twisted his hand free from my hold and went back to tending to my wound. Although he was enraged, there was not a trace of it on his hands when he caressed my skin. I observed him in silence while he worked to remove the blood from my flesh, flinching every now and then to see if it would make him respond, which it did.

He moved closer to me, separating my legs as he stood between them, but he was ignoring me. With a tiny grunt of recognition, the hand that had been coiled around his bicep moved downward and settled in the crook slightly above his elbow.

His quietness was becoming unbearable to me; it felt like something sharp scraping over my skin, reducing me to nothing. Just a short while ago, I believed that our relationship would end, and now I could hardly bear to consider a world without him.

I reached up to his face, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to look at me with a touch that was full of desperation and want. I clutched onto him, and he stilled. If nothing else, he had to know that I loved him and that my feelings went beyond what words could say. Before the inevitable events that would befall us began to spread like poison between us, he needed to know.

"I don't mean to hurt you, but it's in my blood." My remarks were gentle, a hint of my past's suffering and all the barriers I had put up to keep it from hurting me.

Upon hearing my statement, he scowled, displaying the signs of his advanced age on his facial contours.

"I was abandoned on one of the Knightfall pack's boundaries as a pup; I wasn't born in the pack. My mother was not a good mother, so she would harm me. I stopped talking, and he absorbed the new knowledge I was providing him, the fury in his eyes fading. "Derrick, am my mother's daughter, and I don't want to end up like her, ruining us. I'm not interested in doing that! I don't want to hurt you in the same way that I already have. It would be better if you rejected me because I don't want you to despise me, and I can't figure out how to be who you want me to be." He stared at me while I spoke, tears pouring out of my eyes.

He was taken aback, not realizing the tsunami of ideas building inside of me, not anticipating my eruption and everything I had shared with him, but then I felt his snarl, sharpening its teeth on my fingers as he took in my final words.

"I would do anything for you, but I will not reject you." His nose wrinkled. "I assumed it was clear what I wanted, Kylie. I want you in my arms, on my bed, at my side—in all the wicked, repulsive ways that I could possibly want." Tears were streaming down my face and showing no signs of stopping. He stepped toward me, and as he did, my legs caught on to his waist.

"Kylie, you will never be like your mother. And how can I be certain that you won't? His eyes lingered on me, making my lips quiver. Even though they weren't true, I wanted his words; I needed him to console me; and I needed him to speak them. "Evil people do not care about the people they hurt."

He was true; I gave too much thought to ensuring the safety of those around me and considered running away from Derrick to save him the hurt of learning that his mate was a witch blood wolf. It was necessary for my feelings to always come second to everyone else's.

"You don't understand." He wiped the tears from my cheeks in a pitiful bubble of words. Too much of him, too near to me.

"I will take it slow with you if I have to." His comments caused my heart to race. "I will compromise; I will let you come to me, and I will let you leave as you please." I was losing it as he went on. He was both the source and the resolution of the immense turmoil that was tearing me to pieces inside of me.

"Promise me that whatever happens, you won't hate me." Looking up at him, I begged him to give me the words. I knew more than he did, yet he sneered like they were absurd.

"Only if you'll promise me something else." He moved his thumbs to lightly touch my lips. "The next time you kiss me, I want you to mean it."