Chapitre 3: Chapter Three: Assumptions
Kinsley’s POV
Terron left hours ago and Lucas hasn’t stopped trying to pry an answer out of me. I’ve been given more food than I can eat, stretched out on the comfy couch with a soft blanket draped over my body.
I’ve never felt such pleasantries before and I refuse to move, scared there is a tree in this pack with chains wrapped around the base with my name on them.
Whatever my name might be.
“Do you have a family?” Lucas asks, shifting through every question possible. “Do you know where your family is from?”
Something aches about that question more than any other. “Fa–family?”
Lucas sits up straighter now, his hands folding uncomfortably in his lap. “Yes, family. Do you know who they are? Do you know what pack they are from or if they were rogues?”
I flinch at the mention of rogues. I hope if I do have family somewhere, that they aren’t anything like the rogues I’ve been trapped under for the duration of my life.
I curl into a ball on the couch, my head spinning at the thought of what it would be like to have a family.
“I don’t–I don’t know,” I admit in a pathetic whimper. “I don’t remember...”
Lucas knits his brows. “Well, now that you’re talking a little more, can you tell me your name?”
I stare into space for a minute, drifting through the countless times Ace had called me something in place of a formal name, but never once could it have been an identifying mark for me. I fight back the urge to be upset, knowing it won’t help.
I have to clear my throat to feel my tonsils relax, my voice strained and weary. “I don’t know.”
He seems oddly content with that reply. “Okay. Is there anything you do remember?”
Ace’s dark eyes flicker through my memory, the strongest thing I can recall.
“The Rogue Prince.”
Lucas narrows a look at me now, something haunting in his features.
He pulls at the collar of his shirt, yanking the fabric down to the middle of his chest where a light pink scar settles from the base of his throat, down over his chest. The rest of it disappears behind the fabric of his top but I can tell from the depth of the mark, that it’s longer than it appears.
“His group of rogues attacked our pack a few months ago. I fought him off for a while,” Lucas mutters, releasing the collar of his shirt. “Terron insisted on going after him for revenge but we didn’t know where his rogues were hiding.”
I swallow hard, thinking of the fight they had in the woods earlier tonight. It was far more savage than anything I’ve ever seen before. I knew Ace was a dangerous rogue and that he spent most of his days sinking his teeth into any pack that stood in his way.
“He hurt you?” It brought me a weird semblance of peace knowing I wasn’t the sole focus of his torment. “I’m sorry that happened, Lucas. It’s not right.”
He almost chuckles at my words. “Why would you apologize to me, little wolf? You were chained up in the woods. You’ve been starved and dehydrated; not to mention a few scars of your own. None of this warrants an apology from you.”
I nod to his words. Of course, I know some of my wounds won't heal fully without some kind of connection to my wolf, but I haven't seen my reflection in so long that if I were to look at myself in a mirror now, I may not recognize the woman looking back at me.
That probability haunts me more than anything else.
“What happened here?” he asks, motioning to his own neck, under his left ear, to insinuate my neck where I know a little pink mark sits comfortably under my jaw. “What made that scar?”
“It’s a birthmark. That’s what Ace told me.”
A cough caught in my lungs, my throat is so dry and tired from talking. I’ve never had to speak this much– not for the last few years.
Lucas lightens at the sight of it. “It’s very unique.”
I only shrug. “I’ve never seen it.”
“What?”
“I haven’t seen it. Ace only tells other rogues about it, like it's some kind of identifier.”
Lucas cranes his neck, popping the bones in his spine as he stands. “I feel bad for not having offered this sooner but maybe I should draw you a bath. It would help get you cleaned up so you can get a good look at yourself not covered in dirt and–” he stops, his body shuddering while I watch his hand meet his chest.
“Blood,” I say, the word crude and ugly to speak but it’s the truth.
I am still covered in dried blood.
He offers me a meek glance of affirmation. “I’ll run the water and see where Terron ran off to.”
Before he takes off down the hall, I ask, “Is he angry with me?”
“No,” Lucas says without a hint of apprehension. “Finding your mate tied up in the woods isn’t exactly ideal. He is struggling to come to terms with what happened tonight. None of his frustrations are directed at you.”
As he closes the door and leaves down the hall, a rush of water pours into the bathtub.
My body is weak, my hands running down the ridges of my ribs that poke out of my sides. I stumble when I walk, my joints unsteady and my balance just as horrible. When I take a step forward, I fall, my knees taking the brunt of my pathetic weight.
“Ah,” I bark, trembling on the floor like a pathetic pup. I press a hand into my thigh, needing to settle myself before I attempt to stand again but I don’t know if I will be able to. “How? How am I mated to an Alpha?” I whisper to myself.
Lucas is lingering in the hallway, clearing his throat to indicate his presence nearby. “You can take your time, little wolf. There is no rush for you to move around.”
I stare at my hands, my fingertips gripping half-moon indentions into my thighs. “It’s not right. It can’t be true. I can’t be mated to an Alpha.”
Lucas is obviously uncomfortable with my claim. He taps his hand against the wall in a methodical, uneasy tic.
“It’s too soon for you to be critical of your matehood. Terron is a strong Alpha, a great man, and you just met a few hours ago. You can trust me, as his Beta and practically his brother, he is a really sympathetic Alpha. Give him some time to come to terms with everything.”
“What if we don’t have time?” I think of Ace, of his obsession with me. “The Rogue Prince is a monster. He will come after me.”
“Why? Why is he obsessed with you, little wolf?”
“I– I don’t know,” I breathe. It’s a pathetic reply but it’s the only one I have. “He was waiting for my wolf to come through and she just– she hasn’t yet. I don’t hear her, I don’t shift. I don’t have a wolf to feel a mating pull through.”
The world crumbles around my shoulders.
“Maybe finding my mate is a lost cause.” My head is too chaotic to process this many thoughts at one time. “Could I even reject a mate if I don't feel the pull in the first place?”
The hut shudders as the front door is blown open in what I think is a terrifying storm. When I peer over my shoulder, it’s clear I've made several mistakes on a few different levels.
“So, she does talk,” Terron says, his voice strained, “just not to the mate she wants to reject.”
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone