Page 32 of A Chance at Redemption for the Alpha
Idon’t even know her name, just that she is probably from Nova’s pack, but nothing else. She just looked at me and was grossed out. Not that I can blame her. She didn’t reject me, though. So maybe, maybe, there is hope.
Silas wraps some ice cubes in a towel and presses it against my head. “Use that, maybe it helps. You look far too pale for my liking. Are you sure everything is alright?”
He looks at me thoughtfully, like he is able to peek into my soul. He always has such a knowing gaze, which is kind of scary.
“Just a bit tired,” I explain.
“Micah said you helped him a lot,” Silas says.
“He still did most of the work,” I point out.
“Just accept a compliment when it’s handed to you,” Silas chuckles. “It’s not going to hurt.”
He turns back to the kitchen counter, starting to cut vegetables.
“Can I help you?”
“No, you can rest,” he says. “What is it with you and Marcellus not being able to rest for even five minutes!?”
“I feel useless then,” I admit honestly. In general, it’s easier for me to talk to Silas when we are alone. I don’t know why. He is a vampire prince, a very old and powerful one, but I feel more at ease with him than with Marcellus.
“Yeah, Marcellus usually says the same,” he states. “I could offer you some of my lavender bath oil. Believe me, a hot bath with that heavenly scent around you does miracles.”
I am not sure if I believe that. Silas is obsessed with bathing oils and bath bombs. Whenever he and Marcellus argue, Marcellus orders some new limited-edition stuff to make up with him, and Silas always falters. I don’t see the appeal of a scented bath, but Silas claims it makes him smell nice and his skin soft.
“Have you seen Marcellus anywhere?” Silas asks.
“Just briefly, when we unloaded the supplies we’d bought,” I say.
“I bet he forgot about dinner,” Silas groans. “I swear, if that man is going to be late again, I’m going to get annoyed. Can you believe that? I spend hours cooking, and then he is so late, the food is cold.”
I try not to grin. He and Marcellus are so funny sometimes, like an old married couple – at least like I imagine one. This would have been impossible in my old pack under my father. No one had fun there… aside from his closest men who could do whatever they wanted with whoever they wanted.
Silas grabs the can with olives, just to put them aside again. “Right, he doesn’t eat them,” he muses.
“Marcellus doesn’t eat olives?”
“No, he hates them,” Silas says.
“How come?”
Silas gazes at me and smiles. “You can ask him yourself.”
“I… yes, sure,” I say, unconvinced.
Silas sighs. “He is not going to bite your head off for asking questions, you know?” He stares at me, his eyes seeming to pierce my soul, again. “He is a very kind man.”
“I know,” I insist. “He has been very nice to me.”
“But?”
“He is the alpha,” I say.
Silas nods, his eyes turning sad. “You would be surprised by his story if you only dared to ask him.”
I don’t reply to anything, equally too confused and too anxious. Instead, I try to shift the topic. “Micah mentioned I could do well as a warrior,” I start awkwardly.
“He is right,” Silas agrees.
