Chapter 9 C9

He's taking me back to the village. And back to that cretinous

asshole. Fantastic.

• • •

The entire way back he follows close behind- close enough for his

hot breath to fan the back of my neck.

By the time we reach the the Alpha's cabin, which is assumedly

his now, I feel like a prisoner. He escorts me right through the

door, not offering the chance to falter a single step. My cheek is

bleeding again and a dampness is on my hairline that I can't

decide between being moisture from his breath, nervous sweat, or

werewolf slobber. I settle for not knowing.

I'm guided through the large living room with, up the stairs, and

down the hallway. He prods me in the shoulder with his nose for

the hundredth time, silently ordering me to stop in front of the

door to the guest room from before.

Taking the hint, I open the door and enter.

He gestures into the room with his head. Hesitantly, I walk further

in, looking around. The door suddenly clicks closed, leaving me

alone.

Now what? Does he expect me to do something here? Is he

waiting for me to make a run for it again?

I sit down on the bed, sinking down in the plush comforter. I look

at my lap, spacing out while mindlessly picking at the hem of my-

his- shirt.

I'm still zoning out when the doorknob turns suddenly, making me

jump in my own skin.

He's is standing in the threshold of the door. My eyes go directly to

what's in his hands.

"What are you doing?" I blurt out with a bit of a squeak. I swallow

nervously, watching his every movement like a hawk.

He approaches me, a long, thick rope hanging in his grip.

"Hold out your hands," he orders, standing in front of me now.

"Are you serious? You're gonna tie me up now?" I ask with a

skeptical laugh. This might not be the time to be laughing, but are

you kidding me?

He growls loudly and suddenly, making me yank my arms up in a

heartbeat and hold them out at his mercy.

He starts by tying my wrists together, then my hands while my

fists are balled, making it impossible to spread my fingers, and

henceforth impossible to use my claws. He ties the opposite end

of the rope to the bedpost, giving me leeway to move around a bit

but never leave. Just like a dog on a leash.

He avoids eye contact the whole time he works, making me

wonder if it's possible that he feels somewhat guilty for this.

The lighting of his obsidian irises is doing the flickering thing

again, like his wolf is trying to come out but he's fighting to

restrain it.

Typically, a werewolf's eyes only turn black when its primal

instincts are triggered. His have stayed dark, which means he's

been on the edge of losing control to his wolf this entire time.

He starts towards the door and I suddenly feel the need to stop

him. Like some part of me wants him to stay, if only for a few

seconds longer.

"Are you at least gonna tell me your name?" I ask indifferently.

I know his name. I've heard it off of Alpha Andre's tongue. But

something, some part of me, needs to hear it off his.

He pauses with his hand over the light switch, not bothering to

turn around. Even beneath the fabric of his shirt I can see the taut

muscles of his back tightening.

"Riot Sydney."

A few seconds pass as the name sinks in. Goosebumps rise on

my skin and entire body prickles with alertness. I visualize the

spelling of it in my head and repeat it various times.

He looks over his shoulder, not at me, but exposing the side of his

face in my direction. "What's yours?"

I'm quiet for a while before answering, "Why should I tell you?"

I say it mostly to annoy him, but partially because I truly don't see

a reason to tell him. He doesn't deserve that yet.

"Because I told you mine," he growls, something he seems to do a

lot. His fingers grip the frame of the doorway harder, causing the

wood to crack loudly.

"So? I didn't offer you a trade," I huff as I lay over on my side and

squirm to get comfortable. Which is a challenging task when

unable to spread my arms at all.

Once settled, I rest my head on the pillow and close my eyes.

"Goodnight," I say curtly.

It doesn't take long for the light to flip off and for the room to be

bathed in darkness. Directly following that, the door slams

aggressively closed.

Despite it, I can't find it in me to be scared anymore.

I lay there, fully ready to go to sleep, but something eats at my

conscience.

In the back of my mind, I know that it's because he's angry with

me. But I push that thought away.

I got the last word in and that's all that matters.

My sleep was restless the entire night. Tossing and turning,

accommodating for my tied hands. I wake up for about the fifth

time, this time to morning sunlight illuminating the curtains from

behind.

Right then the door opens, revealing a very worn looking 'Riot

Sydney.' His eyes are tired and there's dark purple semicircles

beneath them. He looks freshly showered, his wet hair pressed

down on his forehead.

His smell makes my wolf howl to the point that I have to take a

few breaths to retain myself. A masculine cologne mixes with his

natural piney, musky scent, making for my heart to falter a few

beats.

He walks over, still refusing to look at me. My spirit drops.

For some reason, I crave his attention. That reason more than

likely being the mate bond.

Doesn't he feel it, too?

He holds his palm out towards me.

"Hands," comes the same emotionless command.

I oblige, placing the tied bundle of rope in his open hand. With the

other one he starts to cut me free with a single protruded claw on

his index finger.

It slices the rope like a razor blade on paper, making me shudder

inwardly. The thought of that same claw pressed against flesh,

doing that exact same thing, is mortifying.

Once cut, the ropes fall from my wrists. The skin is an angry red,

irritated and rubbed raw. The sweat in the abrasions only make it

burn worse.

Riot seems to flinch at the sight, his eyes locked intently on my

rose colored hands. For a brief moment, I get excited. The look in

his eyes- locked anxiously on my hands- almost makes it look

like he cares. Like it pains him to see.

When I think he's finally going to say something, he turns away

abruptly with a quiet growl and heads for the exit.

And just like that, I'm left alone again.

• • •

Half an hour passes before I finally will myself to wander

downstairs. When I do, there's no trace of Riot.

To both my dismay and my pleasure, I find his scent lingering

faintly about the house. It triggers a desolate feeling in me.

Something unexplainable.

Am I... missing him?

Before I get the chance to figure out what it is, three solid knocks

sound from the front door.

At first I freeze, remembering Alpha Andre's latest command: put

her back in the cell. Now they've come to get me. They know Riot

brought me back and now they know that he's gone.

I take a shaky breath as the icy chill of vulnerability clenches my

heart.

A few seconds later, three more knocks come, more impatiently

now.

"Goddamn it, open the door, Adrienne!" A very irritated, yet

comforting voice yells from the other side. A voice I've got stored

away in my memory as belonging to the only friendly person in this

pack.