Chapter 206
Chapter 206
Sarah’s POV
I hadn’t expected that in the darkness, with just a single touch, she would recognize me instantly,
When she threw herself into my arms, my body tensed reflexively.
A strange sensation spread through my chest–something primal and unsettling.
She knew me too well, familiar in a way that disturbed me.
As if no matter how I appeared before her, she would identify me without hesitation, without doubt.
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She clung to me like I was her sanctuary, her home. The wolf inside me–Orion–stirred with satisfaction at her response, a reaction I fought to suppress.
“Alexander!” Her voice broke with relief, thick with emotion. “What took you so long?”
Something stirred within me—a flicker of something I couldn’t quite name–but I forced it down, hardening my heart against it.
Why did she have this effect on me? Why could she so effortlessly provoke feelings I’d buried long ago?
No one–not even those I’d once called pack or family–had ever gotten under my skin like this.
I didn’t answer her question.
Instead, I seized her hand and pulled her toward the exit, my grip firm, my silence louder than any explanation.
Once outside the ballroom, the harsh lighting made her squint, but I didn’t give her time to adjust. I pushed her roughly against the wall.
“Who gave you permission to wander around alone?” My suppressed rage finally erupted. “Sarah Winters, what the hell were you thinking?”
My voice dropped to a dangerous growl. “You knew damn well this place wasn’t safe for you. Why are you so determined to get yourself killed?”
“Can’t you, for once, stop causing trouble?”
I knew my tone was harsh, my expression terrifying, but I couldn’t control it.
The image of what might have happened if I hadn’t arrived–her blood pooling on the floor, her body lifeless— made my chest constrict like a thousand–pound weight had settled there.
“If you’re so eager to die, do it far away from me,” I snarled. “Not under my watch.”
I loosened my tie, my chest heaving with barely contained emotion.
I expected her to argue back–to snap at me, to cry, to say something.
But she didn’t.
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She just stood there, silent.
Her silence only fueled my anger. “Say something!” I roared, my voice trembling with intensity. “You’re usually so talkative. Why are you standing there mute now?”
She parted her lips, het voice barely audible. “I… I’m hurting…”
Slowly, she raised her hand, revealing her palm–a mess of torn flesh and blood, vividly red against her pale
skin.
The metallic scent of her blood hit me like a physical blow.
“Alexander, look… I’m injured,” she whispered. “Could you not be so rough with me? Please… not so angry right now.”
My eyes locked on her wounded hand, and the anger within me faltered, immediately replaced by a wave of concern that threatened to drown me.
My wolf howled in distress, urging me to tend to her wounds, to lick them clean as wolves do for their mates. Something about this woman dismantled every wall I’d built, and that terrified me more than any enemy ever could.
“You think this will earn my sympathy?” I forced a cold laugh, deliberately cruel.
“Sarah, you don’t deserve pity. This is entirely your fault. Your injuries, your pain—you brought it all on yourself. If you’d died tonight, that would have been on you too.”
*You shouldn’t speak to her that way,*Orion growled within me.
“Shut up,” I snapped back internally.
I knew my behavior was wrong–cruel even–but I couldn’t stop.
It was as if my emotions had broken free from their restraints, shattering all rational thought. I didn’t understand why.
Her shoulders trembled beneath my gaze. She looked like a wounded animal, vulnerable and betrayed.
I expected her to break down crying, but she didn’t.
Instead, she forced those tears back, stubbornly tucking a fallen strand of hair behind her ear.
Her lips curved into a fragile smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh… well, I guess I’ll head back to my room then… I’m tired.”
As she turned to leave, instinct took over. My hand shot out, gripping her shoulder and pulling her roughly back
to me.
She collided with my chest, and my arms immediately wrapped around her, holding her tight as if I wanted to absorb her into my very bones.
“Alexander…” she murmured against my chest.
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“Be quiet,” 1 growled, my voice hoarse with emotion I refused to acknowledge.
“But I
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“Don’t. Speak.”
I feared that one more word from her lips might shatter what little control I had left.
She fell silent, nestling against me as if she belonged there.
Why did it feel like I had held her like this a thousand times before?
The thought unsettled me more than I cared to admit.
Finally, I exhaled sharply and let her go, reaching down to gently take her uninjured hand instead.
Her wound needed tending–fast.
“Hey, Alexander, what are you doing now?” she asked, a hint of confusion laced in her voice.
“Come with me. No questions,” I ordered.
She had the audacity to joke, as if she hadn’t nearly been murdered tonight. “Couldn’t you be a little gentler with an injured person? Aren’t you worried I’ll get hurt worse?”
She laughed lightly, saying that any other man would have carried her like a princess by now, or at least offered a piggyback ride.
I stopped abruptly, jealousy flaring hot and unexpected in my chest. The thought of another man–any other man–carrying her, touching her.
She bumped into my back with a soft “oof.”
“Alexander…” she started.
I cut her off coldly: “Sarah.”
She hesitated. “Yes? What is it?”
“I am not those other men,” I stated firmly, my voice like ice over deep water.
“What… what do you mean?” she stammered.
“So don’t expect me to take the bait.”
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“And I,Alexander Blackwood, despises fickle women above all else.”
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“I’ll never hear anything nice from you in this lifetime,” she muttered under her breath.
I scoffed quietly, not bothering to respond.
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An hour later, a doctor was bandaging her wounds while I pretended to read a book nearby.
She exaggerated her pain, clearly trying to draw my attention with each increasingly dramatic whimper and
gasp.
I stayed where I was, eyes fixed on the page, as if entirely absorbed in the words before me.
Inside, though, each sound of pain–even the fake ones–made me bristle with concern.
The doctor looked uncomfortable, wrapping the bandage while explaining: “Although Ms. Winters‘ wounds aren’t deep, you’ll need to keep them dry for the next few days.
“With this weather, infection is a real risk if the wounds get wet. I’ll come back tomorrow morning to change the dressings.”
The doctor packed up her supplies and prepared to leave.
As he stepped away, Sarah looked up at me with a soft, almost pleading smile. 1
“Well… I guess I’ll just have to rely on you then, Alpha Alexander,” she said, her voice sweet and vulnerable.
I said nothing, pretending not to hear, my eyes still fixed on the book in my hands.
But deep down, a part of me–the part I’d never admit–welcomed the excuse to keep her close.
