#Chapter 5 Love Bite

Ellie's POV

How could I have lost that earring? It was a gift from Anna. I feel a little guilty that I don’t know where it is. I hope it’s not at the hotel because there is no way I can get it back now.

I don’t think about my missing earring long enough because my thoughts and my fear turn toward a much more pressing issue, the Alpha King. I bite my nails and then stop myself, but the nervousness at the pit of my stomach doesn’t let up.

The Alpha King has been away for two years fighting vampires and rogue werewolves. I hear how he has mercilessly slaughtered a lot of bodies and cut off plenty of heads. If his enemies fear him, then what hope do I have?

Just what my punishment may be, I have no idea. Will he keep me grounded? Will he stop me from seeing my friends? Or worse, is he gonna hurt me?

I look out the window and allow myself to be comforted by the whizzing blur of the trees as we move along the road to the palace. The driver looks at me through the rear-view mirror every now and again, no doubt noticing my nervousness. I basically can’t sit still and keep shifting and moving in my seat.

I may be frightened inside but I am not going to let the Alpha King or anyone else know that when I get there.

The taxi driver pulls up at the manor and I get out confidently as if I have been out having lunch with a friend, not sneaking back from a one-night stand with a handcuffed stranger.

I walk through the gate of the manor still finding the designs and patterns of the gate a majestic masterpiece. I see the butler at the entrance door eyeing me.

I smile at him as I get close.

In response, he leans in to whisper, “I'll take that smile of yours as a greeting because there’s nothing funny here. Be careful not to contradict him or argue.”

He gives me a concerned look and I nod at him. "Thanks for the heads up, uncle." I move past him into the palace.

As much as it is annoying to have someone tell me to behave, I know he is only looking out for me. He knows the Alpha King well enough and what sort of mood he is in. The butler has always been here for me the last two years and I am grateful for his support.

Austin sits in the living room in complete and utter ownership of his surroundings. He makes me feel like I am the intruder even though this has been my home for the last two years. Deep within, I feel an intense fear to face him but I do my best to hide it. I can pretend very well if I need to.

He raises his chin at me condescendingly as I enter the living room, giving me the impression that he is looking down on me.

The familiar feeling of desire I felt at the pool, returns. I feel the heat of my body grow more intense as I look at his powerful stature and demeanour and as I feel the intensity of his focus on me. I find his deep authoritative voice, gruff mannerisms and how he has control of everything so sexually attractive. It’s annoying to admit but I am attracted to him and I just hope he can’t tell.

Even though he has undoubtedly been under intense stress over the last two years, he looks no older than before he left and despite being twenty years older than me. He looks boyish and somewhat youthful, which sometimes makes it harder for me to respect him as a much older man.

He speaks to me domineeringly and with little patience, that mouth of his tight and unmoving.

“Where have you been Ellie?”

“I told the Butler I was at Anna’s last night. I did the right thing by letting him know my whereabouts.” I try to answer meekly.

"And who is Anna?"

"She's my best friend," I tell him. "We met in school."

“So you were at Anna’s all night?” He seems unconvinced. And I’ve gradually lost my patience with his interrogations. I don’t like being treated like a prisoner. It makes me uncomfortable to not be trusted.

"That's what I said." I try to control myself.

He shakes his head as if offended. His mouth moves as if he is going to smirk, but he doesn’t. His brow and facial features scrunch into a display of disgust, as if I am typical of so many other young women who jump at the opportunity to sleep around with whomever they want. The look of irritation on his face is annoying and exasperating but I try not to let it affect me.

I feel I am ready to speak up for myself again when his eyes drop to my tummy and shakes his head again.

“Why are you wearing so little?” He points at my bare midriff.

“Little? This is what all the young women wear. It suits me fine and I don’t need anyone else to approve of it.” I control my voice, telling myself to maintain my respect in front of the Alpha King.

But why did he treat me like a prisoner once he came back? If he wants to kick me out, he can just tell me directly instead of constantly interrogating and picking on me.

"Except Anna, right? Your best friend has obviously been a bad influence on you."

"You don't know that," I say, and fold my arms in a defensive posture and meet his gaze with my own lifted, haughty chin. He shouldn’t have said about my friend Anna like this. I swear Anna is a good girl. I feel my patience is approaching its limit.

A flash of anger smarts across his face for a second in response to my defiance, but then I see him looking at my body again. This time his eyes linger on my svelte waist and my short midriff top. I can tell he sees I am pretty now; I am not like I was two years ago. So is that why he is making such a big fuss about my clothing? Bit to be honest, I deliberately wear clothes with my midriff showing to look more mature like Anna.

“You cannot and will not stay out all night. You will stay here after ten so I know where you are.” His eyes and stature are unmoving. His eyes bore a hole into me.

“I’ve been out many times while you were away and nothing has happened to me. I can take care of myself.”

"So you've been wayward, huh? Well, let me tell you something right now. This time, you will answer me. You say that you can take care of yourself, so why did you come to me for help? Why didn't you just go ahead and take care of yourself?"

“You don't have to make my insecurity obvious. But being home by ten p.m.? That’s basically no social life at all!” I squeeze my fists by my sides tightly in anger. Okay, now I’m sure of it. He hates me and wants to get rid of me. Otherwise why would he treat me like this?

His critical eyes and interrogative tone, as if whatever I do is wrong.

I don’t wanna bear it anymore. Fuck it!

“You’ll survive, I’m sure.” He looks at me coolly.

“This is not fair at all. I am nineteen years old! I’m an adult!”

He doesn’t respond and looks bored of my complaints. I stand there for a moment fuming. I am about to speak my mind and argue with him about this stupid rule some more, but he interrupts.

“You can write yourself a self-criticism report and I want to see it.” He crosses his right ankle over his left knee in self-satisfaction, like he has given me a hard puzzle to figure out. One I’m gonna have a good, long, hard time trying to figure out.

Writing a self-criticism report is the last thing on earth I want to do.

"I don't think I can do it," I tell him.

"Can't do what?"

"Write the report. It's stupid. I mean, I'll just look stupid writing it."

"I think you can, Ellie. You've got a big mouth. Just put it in black and white."

I want to reiterate that I won’t be doing his stupid report, but at the same time I don’t have the courage to defy him outrightly like that. I’d hate to see what happens when he goes into complete rage. Still, I think I can think of a way to avoid this self-criticism report. I’ll tell him my hand is too sore and painful to write.

I look at him while I muster up the courage to come up with an excuse not to do the report. I take stock of his thick neck and shoulders, hardened and strengthened from years of fighting. I think of what his body would look like without his clothes for a split second and then pull myself away from those thoughts.

I am meant to be angry at him. Then I notice something pinkish on his neck that looks like a raspberry. It looks like someone else has been enjoying the sight of him beneath his clothes.

Suddenly, I forget everything I had been planning to say next.

I point at it and ask him,” What is that?”