Page 8 of Outcast
A large variety of sliced meats was the main appetizer, as that's what they enjoyed the most, courtesy of their inner wolves. I managed to spend almost thirty minutes in blissful silence until someone burst through the doors to the main room. A strong pine scent wafted through the room, and I rolled my eyes without looking up.
Jameson.
"Hurry up, Kira. My patience is running thin with you today," he growled.
"Isn't it always?" tumbled out of my mouth before I realized I’d voiced my inner thoughts.
My eyes darted to him, and my hopes that I’d mumbled it quietly enough for him to not hear were dashed when I saw the anger simmering there. His pale skin, just a few shades darker than his white hair, caused his piercing eyes to be the first feature you fixated on when you looked at him.
He looked like the embodiment of winter, the picture definition of what the season would look like if it came to life. Skin as pale as snow and blue eyes as pale as ice.
So much anger radiated from them that I visibly flinched. Such bright eyes for such a dark soul.
Why did they call to me?
I found myself simultaneously mesmerized and terrified that he was going to kill me.
"Speak when spoken to, Kira," he ground out between clenched jaws.
Fuck that and fuck him. I had endured this in silence for far too long.
I still held the knife from slicing meat and waved it as I retorted, "Did you not just speak to me? So guess what? I spoke back." I ended with a jab of the knife in his direction to punctuate my last word.
The distance between us shrank in a span of seconds as his long legs ate up the space with ease.
His hand shot out and twisted my wrist until the knife dropped from my hand and fell to the floor, precariously close to my exposed toes. My face turned to the side to look at the spot where his hold teetered on the line of cutting off the circulation to my hand.
My hand tingled, and I was pretty certain that, if he tilted my wrist in any direction, it would snap like a toothpick.
A hiss of pain slipped from my lips, and I attempted to turn my head back to face him, but suddenly his mouth pressed against my throat, and he growled. Actually fucking growled at me.
As if this fucker was about to bite my neck with his blunt human teeth to assert dominance.
Would he pee on me next?
Instead of cowering as we both expected me to, with my body in a state of pain and shock, something clicked in the back of my mind and refused to let me submit to his show of dominance.
“I’ll never accept you as my alpha, Jameson. In case you forgot, I’m human, so I bow to no one.”
A threatening growl came from him before he moved his lips up to my ear and spoke with malice dripping from his every word, “When I’m Alpha, I’ll outlaw you from this pack in the dead of winter with no way of surviving, little human.”
He meant it. There was no doubt in me that he’d love nothing more than to see me dead as a piece in his revenge plan for his mother’s death. Because somehow he thought it was my fault that the Daimona showed up that day.
Somehow, it seemed it had never crossed his mind that I’d lost the only woman I remembered as a maternal figure that day as well.
My jaw tightened as my teeth ground together, fighting the fear I felt. Sweat dripped down my brow, and my heart beat so rapidly that all I heard was the pounding of the blood in my head.
In an instant, he strode across the room and headed back into the dining hall, leaving me gasping and wondering what the hell had just happened.
Why did I speak back to him like that?
It’s like I was asking to be buried six feet under. Wherever this new backbone of mine had come from, it needed to chill out before I had no life left to defend.
I doubled over, placing my palms on my knees, and took a moment to just breathe deeply in an attempt to calm my racing pulse. My hair fell around me, and for just a moment, I let it cocoon me, relishing in the protected feeling it provided.
As my heart settled, it also sent a pang through me at the memory of a little boy with the sweetest smile and dimples. The boy I had thought would be my best friend forever. I guess our paths were always meant to be entwined—but in the darkest of ways, with senseless anger and pain at its core.
Straightening up, I spun around to turn on the sink faucet and splashed some water onto my neck and chest to cool down. Grabbing paper towels, I quickly wiped away the water, but not before a few streams managed to soak through the upper part of my white dress.
