Fated: The Alpha's Unwanted Luna-Chapter 79: End of competition/ possessive Alpha_Part 1
"I know you are not weak. Now stop talking, cariño. The venom is already moving through your blood," he whispered as he put one arm around her waist and held her against him before reaching with his other hand to close and then lock the door behind them.
After locking it, he turned fully to her, bent down, and carried her into his arms, walking toward the single sofa in the resting room given to the participants to freshen up after each round.
She was burning up so much he could feel the heat through his clothes, seeping into his skin. The little fool had walked away from the arena like nothing was wrong, but Sebastian had already seen how the black howler’s claw had dug into her chest. He knew there was no way in hell she was fine, and she wouldn’t be if she wasn’t taken care of immediately.
He had been the one to call her weak repeatedly, but Sebastian knew he would never be able to call her that again after what he had watched her do, again. Even Laila, who had an Alpha wolf, hadn’t been able to fight off the poison of the black howlers and had fallen unconscious the moment she defeated them. Yet this woman in his arms had gotten up and walked away on her own legs like nothing had happened.
Sebastian looked down at her sweaty, flushed face. Her eyes were pressed tightly together in pain, and her lips were parted as her breath came ragged through them. Her lashes were long and curly, ebony black like the hair on her head, and her thick, sharply curved brows sat above her doll-like eyes. He didn’t know whether to think of her as remarkably brave and courageous or foolishly so, because who in their right senses would have done what she had done and displayed in the arena?
This woman was full of surprises he couldn’t help but want to uncover and peel away little by little. Just who was she? She stirred both his curiosity and a deeply rooted protectiveness. If she was this brave and strong without a wolf, he wondered just how she would be with one. She was small, and yet remarkable.
Sebastian had never kept or been with a woman this small. All the women around him, and in his life, had been tall. And as much as he hadn’t wanted her at first and had strongly believed she didn’t fit into his world or life, he could now see just how much she would fit into it. She would do as the kind of woman he wanted beside him and for his next plan in breaking his cursed prophecy. But to make that possible, he realized he had to keep her alive through this poison and every obstacle that would block her from becoming his Luna.
Sebastian gently put her down on the sofa, but she moaned in pain at the movement and clutched tightly to the front of his shirt.
"It hurts... don’t touch me," she protested, a deep crease forming between her brows.
Sebastian chuckled softly, his gaze dropping to her slender, bruised fingers clutching the front of his shirt. How shameless. She was the one holding onto him so tightly, yet telling him not to touch her.
She always held him this tight whenever he carried her. Only now, her blood was smeared across the front of his shirt, snapping him out of his amusement and the thought of how cute he found her.
"Well, to save you, I will have to touch you, niñita. Not only touch you, I will have to take off your suit," he told her as he reached out and slowly began to pry her fingers from his shirt.
But as expected, she was gripping it so tightly that he would have to hurt her to free himself. Why did she always hold onto his shirt whenever he carried her? She clung to him like she was afraid of something, like letting go would cause her to fall into something unseen.
Unknown to Sebastian, she was indeed afraid of something, something that lived deep inside her, something that lured her toward a vast, dark emptiness that came with sleep. That was why she held onto him so desperately, because it felt like holding onto a light she didn’t even know she needed in her life.
Though Sebastian was far from being a light to anyone’s darkness, especially hers, Viola’s subconscious didn’t know that, nor did it agree with it. That was why, whenever she slipped into sleep or unconsciousness, his presence unknowingly balanced something inside her, something even she wasn’t aware of.
With a sigh, he instead swiftly ripped his shirt open at the front, letting her keep her hold on the torn fabric.
It seemed it would become a habit for him to destroy his shirts whenever she grabbed onto them. The little woman had a grip of steel.
She didn’t reply to his words about taking off her clothes, and Sebastian belatedly realized her mind must be processing things slowly now, the pain and toxin likely catching up to her.
Her face was growing redder, her breathing more ragged. Though he could call for an antidote to be brought, it would raise questions about why he cared enough to ask for one for her. And if the healers came and took her to where Laila was, there was no doubt the elders would use their connections to ensure she was given more poison than antidote. She had just shown everyone she was capable of being their Luna.
Her capabilities would be a threat to many, especially the elders, who believed that because they had been in power two decades ago and had ruled the Silver Pack when his parents first died, when he was only ten years old and held as a prisoner by Moonwillow, they could do almost whatever they believed was good for the pack, even if it meant eliminating a wolfless and blaming it on the toxin of the dark howlers.
That left him with only one option to save her, even though he had a feeling she wasn’t going to like it.
"Niñita?" he called as he slipped an arm beneath her to lift her torso and reach for the zipper of her suit.
She tried to swat his hand away, even though her eyes remained tightly shut.
"Don’t call me... that. Don’t touch me... I don’t like you..." she grumbled, her face scrunching up in pain, her chapped lips pouting in displeasure.
"You are one stubborn woman, cariño. You are on the verge of falling unconscious, and you are still fighting me. Stop that," he chided when she blindly struck at his face with her good hand and tried to move away from his touch. Did she hate him so much that she wouldn’t allow him to touch her even when she might die and he could save her?
Sebastian felt a bitter taste rise in his throat at that thought, followed by a string-like tugging pain in his heart. Your mate wasn’t supposed to hate you like this, even if things were strained, and yet here she was. Still, he understood then that this was his fault. He had tormented her for believing she was too weak for him.
Sebastian found the zipper of her suit and pulled it all the way down to her waist. Her struggle had grown weak, and she was now leaning her head against his chest, her warm breaths fanning against his bare skin where he had ripped his shirt, stirring goosebumps along his body.
"Don’t touch me..." she muttered again as he began to pull the suit from her shoulders and then slowly eased her arms from the sleeves. She strained one arm, refusing to let him remove her clothes, but she was too weak to keep fighting and eventually let him do it.
She moaned in agony when he began to free the injured arm, and Sebastian immediately paused. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, "Sorry. I will make the pain stop very soon. Shh," he coaxed, pressing his lips gently to her damp temple, knowing she was in unbearable pain.
He felt her tears soak into his chest, and his jaw tightened as he whispered soft, soothing words into her ear, holding her carefully while her body trembled against his.
