Chapter 3

After two days of working, I decided that I could not do this. At least three times a day, I climbed up and down four flights of stairs, driving my feet crazy. They were swelling to the point where my shoes were fitting tightly, and the blisters had opened, causing the new skin to become infected. Every time I had to bend over for something, I felt the gash on my back reopen and the cold sensation of blood trickling out. Whenever I had to reach for something above my head, it felt like someone was stabbing me between each rib. At this point, I was sure swallowing shards of glass would have felt better. Despite my injuries, I did not falter with my tasks. Or at least I tried my best not to stutter. Annika had caught me limping on my feet, gasping for air, or grimacing in pain on more than one occasion. She kept harassing me about seeing the pack’s doctor, but I kept ignoring her and returning to my task.

I ensured that the King had his meals on time and that his study was cleaned and organized before lunch so he could work there for the rest of the day. While he worked in his study, I cleaned his bedroom and bathroom and did his laundry. While waiting for him to eat dinner, I cleaned my room and the hallways, sweeping and mopping as I went. When I had served his snack at 8 pm and took his dishes back down to the kitchen, I was exhausted and ready to crash. Sleeping hadn’t been as easy as I thought it would be. The bed was like laying on a cloud but trying to lay on my stomach, the back or left side, was out of the question, leaving me to sleep on my right side. But laying on my right side all night made my arm go numb or sore, continuously waking me up. Even if I didn’t have the injuries, I was sure I wouldn’t have gotten any sleep anyways. Every time I closed my eyes, I could still see those bleeding, neon-red eyes that looked like the personification of hell and those gleaming, ice-white canines.

The nightmare of being torn to shreds slowly, limb by limb, was enough to keep me awake. I must have been screaming in my sleep one night because not only did I wake up with my throat feeling scratchy and raw, but one early morning I had woken up with a comforter wrapped tightly around me. I recognized the comforter and remembered putting it on the King’s bed the previous day. It smelled like him, like a spring wind after a rainy day. For some reason I could not explain, it comforted me and made me feel safe. I had pulled the blanket around me tighter, buried my nose deep into it, inhaled his scent, and fell back into a relatively more peaceful slumber. A few hours later, when I had woken, I returned the blanket to the King’s room only to find it back on me the next night. So I kept it, falling asleep to his scent. By the end of the fifth day of working, I could have dropped to the floor and wept from pain. My legs trembled from the pain in my feet as I fought to stay on them. I had just delivered the King his snack and was sweeping the hallway between our rooms as I waited for him to finish. After thirty minutes, when I was sure he had finished, I knocked on his bedroom doors, my knuckles aching in protest.

“Enter.” The King’s crisp and clear voice rang out as it had for the past five nights. He spoke with a modulated tone. I grabbed the cold brass doorknob and pushed the door open, closing it behind me before heading to the coffee table to collect his dishes. He was sprawled out on the couch before the marble fireplace with a book in his lap. The heavy air lifted as it always had the previous nights as if he lowered his aura for me. I forced myself to approach the coffee table and collected his plate, bowl, and mug, Keeping as silent as possible so that I wouldn’t disturb his reading. I attempted to do it on steady legs, but as I headed back to the door, my right ankle thought it was the best time to give out on me. Swelling from my feet had crept up to my ankle, and my ankle had decided it had enough. I let out a little gasp as the rest of my leg gave out. To my surprise, I was able to catch myself and hoist myself back up to two feet before I could allow the dishes to fall to the floor. Gritting my teeth to keep from crying out in agony, I place my weight firmly back on my right foot. I felt the air shift as the King’s aura flared slightly in annoyance from the clumsiness disturbing his reading. I gave a quick bow and lowered my head in submission.

“Forgive me, my king, for my clumsiness,” I said hastily. “I’ll be more careful.” Giving another quick bow, I hurried out of the room before I could make a fool of myself again. Before I could reach the door, the King’s voice cut through the air.

“Halt.” Even if I wanted to keep moving, I couldn’t because as soon as he said that word, his command took over my body, forcing it to stop. His dominance enveloped me like a shroud. I could hear his book snap close and his feet brush against his rug as he stood and moved behind me. “Set the dishes back down on the table.” I did as he asked, watching him move to the other side of the couch, his hazel eyes never leaving mine. He slowly moved around the couch and began to circle me like a vulture, getting closer to me with each rotation. My heart drummed inside my chest. “Did you know an infection gives off a very sour and potent scent?” He sniffed hard for emphasis. Sweat began to bead around my forehead. “Annika told me that she tried to get you to see the doctor, but you refused.” I Swallowed hard. I knew that if the doctor saw my broken ribs and infected feet, I wouldn’t be allowed to work. I wouldn’t be able to earn my keep. I wouldn’t have protection without being able to earn my keep, and I had told the king that I wouldn’t allow my injuries to prevent me from working. I swallowed again, my words getting stuck in my throat.

“My injuries are minor, my lord, nothing to fret over.” I breathed hoarsely, earning me a low, menacing growl as Conri stopped behind me.

“I can smell blood and infection on you, Rieka. What did I tell you about lying to me?”

“I’m sorry, Lord King.”

“Remove your shirt.” I stopped breathing as the King moved around me to his bathroom. I started shaking like a leaf in a wind storm. Not this again.

“Please, my king, I’m fine. I’m jus—” Another vicious growl cut off my words from inside the bathroom.

“Do not argue with me, Rieka. You had your chance. Do not make me repeat myself.” My bottom lip wobbled as I fought back a whimper. I clutched the hem of my shirt, my arms shaking as the King reentered the room with a first aid kit. He narrowed his eyes at me when he saw that I had not removed my shirt yet. I tried my best not to cower under his hard stare. “Please do not make me command you.” My eyes burned with tears as I fought back a sob.

“I can’t lift my left arm up.” His nostrils flared once as he set the first aid kit on the coffee table before standing back in front of me. He placed two fingers on my chin to tilt my head as he had done when I arrived at this manor. His aura dropped tremendously, and it felt like I was breathing in the fresh spring air. I looked into his eyes to see them soften.

“I will not hurt you, Rieka.” I stared at him for a long moment, something in my chest pulling me to him, urging me to trust him. He slowly moved around me, Keeping his aura low, trying not to frighten me. His fingers barely brushed against my skin as he grabbed the hem of my shirt and lifted it. My chest tightened as his knuckles continued to skim across my skin, up my sides barely. Gingerly, his firm grip grabbed my right arm to pull it through the shirt before lifting it over my head and down my left arm. No pain from my left arm barely moving. He grabbed my left wrist and slowly raised my arm up, but when my arm aligned with the floor, I hissed in pain as the muscles in my side stretched along my ribs. He set my arm back down as slowly as he had raised it. He gingerly prodded the tender muscles along my ribs, and I fought the urge to pull away from him. Pulling away from the King would be a sign of disrespect. “Your ribs are broken. How long have they been like this?” I shook my head, not wanting to tell him how long I had been in pain. A growl of annoyance vibrated through his chest. “Rieka, answer me.”

“Since before I got here, my lord.” His growl became harsher.

“You’ve been working for five days with broken ribs? Why?” Tears threatened to spill over as a lump formed in my throat.

“Because it’s unfair for me to stay here for protection if I don’t earn my keep.”

“We’re not savages, Rieka. We won’t throw you to the wolves because you’re injured.”

“I can still work, my lord.”

“Absolutely not. You will remain here until you’re healed.” My blood froze, and I felt the color drain from my face.

“Please, sir, I want to continue to work.”

“You don’t have a choice in the matter. Your wound is becoming infected.” He grabbed the first aid kit and removed some disinfectant before applying it to my gash. The color returned to my face, not from me calming down but from embarrassment. I was astonished that the Alpha King was touching me like this, applying ointment to my wounds. It felt foreign for him to touch me, but a part of me wanted to lean into his touch, let him worship me, and take care of me. My heart rate raced faster, and my face heated at the absurd thought. I was nothing more than a lowly Shifter. Of course, the King didn’t want me. He just wanted me healed so he could have someone to be at his beck and call. “The infection needs to be gone before it can be bandaged.” He slipped my shirt back on the way he took it off but in reverse, careful not to move my left arm as much as possible. “Sit.” At this point, I knew it was impossible to argue with him, so I moved to sit on the couch, hissing at the contact of the cushions on my back. The King knelt before me on the floor, and I didn’t think my face could get any more red at the sight of the King of Guardians kneeling before a Shifter like me. He gingerly removed each of my shoes and socks before swearing under his breath at the sight of them. They were beet red and swollen from the open blisters.

“I’m not used to wearing shoes.” The King let out a breath that sounded like a low laugh as he ran the pad of his thumb over my calloused heels.

“I can tell.” He grabbed some more ointment and rubbed it gently into my blisters. When he was finished, he held a roll of bandages from the first aid kit and proceeded to wrap my left foot, rolling it around my ankle and foot again. He repeated the same process on my right foot. When he had finished, I couldn’t stop the sigh of relief from the compression already alleviating some of the pain. The King stood up and towered over me, his hazel eyes soft like a forest at dawn. I attempted to stand to return to my room, but his eyes hardened, and a growl slipped from his lips. “Stay.”

“Sir, I must return to my room so you may get some rest.”

“You’ll sleep here tonight. It’s best to stay off your feet for right now. Do not try to argue with me. I can assure you, Rieka; you will not win.” My cheeks heated as I settled back into the couch, knowing this was a losing battle. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, my lord.” He took a step to move around the couch towards his bed, but he stopped and looked back down at me. He stared at me for a quiet moment before speaking again.

“Conri.” My brows furrowed quizzically. “My name… Conri. You can call me Conri.” He wanted me to call him by his name. I didn’t think I could bring myself to do that. It would be odd to call the King by his name and a sign of disrespect, so I nodded my understanding. Conri’s lips tightened into a firm line before returning to his bed and grabbing the comforter off it. He brought it back to me.

“Lay down.”