Page 23 of A Chance at Redemption for the Alpha
*MARCELLUS*
Micah and Sheila prove to be the reliable companions I hoped they would be. None of them picks a fight with the vampires. They have probably realized, themselves, that the group isn’t in any shape to cause trouble.
The man with the baby hands the child to Micah, relief on his face. “She isn’t mine,” he explains. “We just saved her from death.”
“You were attacked?” Sheila asks.
“We were in a battle,” the man adds. “I am Lucian, Lord Silas’s general and his friend.”
“Silas?” Micah asks while rocking the baby.
“Our prince and leader,” the man explains.
“And who attacked you?”
“That was Silas’s brother,” he says.
He doesn’t tell us much, just the basics. Apparently, they are from a coven of high-ranking, pure-blood vampires. All of them are of nobility, but didn’t want to follow the rules of Silas’s crazy brother. Silas himself was his co-ruler, but couldn’t bear his antics anymore. The dude was on a mission to kill any babies of his former lovers, because he wanted to keep his bloodline clean. Or something similarly disgusting.
“Please help His Highness,” one of the female vampires begs me. “He was hurt the most.”
I had been waiting for an opportunity to sneak away and talk to my mate.
He is currently resting inside the cave. When I approach him, he is awake and looks at me thoughtfully. “A wolf’s mate…” he mutters. “Here I am, running from a brother who betrayed me and a lover who betrayed me, and I meet a wolf.”
“You know?” I ask him, once again, stunned by how beautiful he is.
“Comes with experience and age,” he says quietly.
“I ran from betrayal, too,” I say shortly. “From my brother and my ex-mate. It’s not as gruesome as your story sounds, though.”
Silas hums. “Interesting,” he says.
“They said you were hurt?”
I angle for Micah’s backpack and retrieve some bandages and antiseptic. “We only have the basics.”
“That’s more than we do,” Silas says.
“Allow me?” I ask.
“Sure,” he says, gently tugging off his robe and black shirt, revealing his back to me. The skin of his white back is torn to pieces, one bloody tear under another.
“What the fuck happened to you?” I growl, Amos pushing forward in a sudden surge of anger. “Who did that?”
“My brother dearest,” Silas says dryly. “Don’t worry, he can’t kill me. Quite literally. But he can hurt me. That was the worst whipping of my life. Are you done staring, or do I need to nurse myself?”
His whole attitude and casual way of handling both me and this conversation is truly mind-boggling. I have never met someone like him. If it’s true what he is saying, he just went through a whole traumatic experience, yet his eyes and expression remain calm and stoic.
When I disinfect his wounds, however, I see him flinch. I try to be as gentle as possible while I wrap his torso in a bandage.
“What’s your name?” he asks all of a sudden.
“Marcellus.”
“Is that your real name?” he wants to know.
“Yes.”
