Chapter 5 Five

The Building Of Trust

Peter's Point of View

She stood there holding the knife as if it were a snake. I remembered those clothes, they were mine. A woman had never worn my clothes before, and here she was.

"I have something you might want to eat. Downstairs."

I didn't wait for her but left the door and headed down the stairs. There was the painting of my father wearing a red suit and sitting in an orange background.

I had arranged a table and two chairs by the fireplace. I sat down on one and waited for her to appear.

It was the first time in thirty years since I had a meal with someone. I wasn't sure how it made me feel, but it was different. On any other day, it was just me and the fireplace with my father's paintings looking down at me.

When she finally joined me, she looked at the plates arranged on the table, and asked, "What are we eating?"

"Meat," I said.

"What kind of meat?" she probed.

"Does it matter? We are beasts in human clothing."

"For us to work together, there should be some sort of trust."

I took my fork and knife. "Then it is venison. And the thing in the cups is grape wine."

The table was small. I had forgot to change it to a longer one since I was already used to it. Our knees touched more than once and she glanced at me to see if I had noticed it. Well, I wasn't wood. I certainly did.

"So tell me why you did not listen to your advisors," I said, breaking the awkward silence.

"Beg your pardon," she said, and toyed with the fork in her hand like it was sweet on a stick.

"I know you had advisors and they probably told you not to go ahead with your plan, but you refused anyway. Why?"

"I trusted him," she said, and that made me smile. She scoffed when she realized the reason.

"You do take trust seriously, don't you?" I said. "You trust people enough to be blinded by their real intentions."

"Kevin didn't have any unreal intentions. He was completely open with me."

"Kevin, huh? That was his name?"

"Yes. Kevin Oates. Why that look, do you know him?"

I looked at my father's painting on the wall again. "No, I don't."

She stopped eating the meat halfway and told me that she was done with it.

"Great, then I'll take your ration," I said and picked the rest of her meat and added to mine. "This place is like a jungle. You eat what you get."

"How long have you been here?"

"A generation."

"What really happened to you?"

I stopped eating. "Was a mistake. Went out of control and there she was. Innocent and for the taking. Tried to hold back the pull of the moon, but no. Jerked me off balance and I bit down on her."

"They said she was a witch."

"Who did?"

"The sages."

"No, she wasn't. But her mother was. The girl was just sacrificial lamb. The coven was going to offer her to some spirit in exchange for power. And I tainted their sacrifice so I paid the price. Wrong place wrong time. When that time comes, I get to relive the pain she would take on that altar before she died. Only I can't."

As I spoke, her eyes went round like ostrich eggs. They were filled with horror and shock.

"I never heard that part of the story," she said, and I could hear her voice tremble.

"Why would you? It's a man's personal experience."

"But you were king then. How come you couldn't control your change?"

"No, I was just boy of twelve years old. My father had died and left me an empire. It is the pain that makes me go crazy and being here alone just worsens it."

"So why don't you get help?"

I chuckled. "No one wants to come near me. They are scared of what I might do to them. So I made the blade. And that's for anyone willing. It keeps me down until morning."

"Sounds like you have tried it on yourself a couple of times," she said.

"Yeah," I said. "It is the only way I can control the pain and rage."

She just nodded her head and we were back to that awkward silence. I stood up and took the plates to the kitchen. Dumped them in the sink and left them there. I leaned against the cabinet and thought if bringing her to the old house was a good idea. I didn't even want to know her name. I wasn't sure how long she would last with me, but something inside of me said I need to try.

She walked into the kitchen tentatively, her eyes darting everywhere. To the corners, possibly wondering if I had something or someone else in there.

I folded my arms over my chest and watched her.

She stopped some paces away. "I have some questions."

I waited for her to continue.

"About what we are going to be doing. The revenge stuff. How are you going to make it happen?"

"We do to him what he did to you," I said. "Simple."

"You think it is that simple?" she asked.

"Is it not?"

She shook her head. "Alright, so how do we begin."

"First, I need to know that you are not going to back out when we start."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Once you are in, there is no going back. It is part of the deal."

"I thought I was already in the moment I took that vial and didn't die."

"Just want to be sure."

She breathed our slowly. "Look, maybe he was seeing some other woman better than me while we were still together, and that is why he rejected me for her. But what I cannot reckon is why he would want me dead."

"You were right about him seeing another woman, but why would he would he wait until you made him Alpha King of..."

"Tweed pack," she completed.

"All I can say is that there was a plan between him and that beta of his to get you out out the way," I explained to her. "But whatever means necessary. See it like some honeypot. Bad investment. Chose the wrong Spud. Because if you had not let him on to what you wanted to do for him, he would never have done this to you. Probably started planning your death the day you told him."

I could see that her eyes began to fill up with tears. It was the part I hated the most. Seeing people crying for something other people did to them. It was pathetic. Not that I usually got the chance to tell them so. But here she was.

She began to cry. Right in front of me. Just let the darn tears fall. I stood there watching her until she got a hold of herself. Cleaned her eyes with the back of her hands.

"I'm so-sorry," she said. "That just came out."

"You didn't have to cry," I told her.

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

"But do you?" I pursued, and she gave me a look that was both awkward and blaming. I went on, "I see tears as a sign of weakness. That someone is going to break, or going to compromise. And it isn't needed if you really want to get the job done."

"You say it like it's going to be horrible."

"It is, I won't lie. Because what he did wasn't lovely by sight."

"But he saved me," she protested. "Doesn't that make him look like he had a change of heart later on?"

I chuckled for a while at what she said.

"What? What is funny?" she demanded to know.

"He called you Sabrina, righ? That's your name?"

"Yes. So?"

"He didn't save you, Sabrina," I revealed.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I saved you. While you were out letting yourself bleed to death, I walked up and took the vial. Opened it and noticed that it was just sleeping potion. It would not have cured you, Sabrina. It would have have just made dying a whole lot easier, and less painful."