By the ti I made it to my room, my legs were jelly. My pulse thudded in my ears, drowning out every other sound, but I still kept glancing over my shoulder half-expecting to see him there, half-knowing I wouldn’t have ti to scream if he was. The latch clicked down with a shaky little snap. The chair screeched across the floor as I shoved it up under the handle, the wood trembling in my grip. Then I just stood there, staring at the door, barely breathing. My fingers tingled from gripping the chair too hard. My whole body felt too small to contain my heartbeat.
His Inner Voice: (low, amused): There it is. The little ritual. Chair under the handle. Pulse in your throat.
I swallowed. "Not listening," I whispered to no one.
His Inner Voice: (silky): You’re always listening, Elie.
I forced myself into motion, pacing the small space like a caged animal. One, two, three... turn. One, two, three... turn. Every ti my heel hit that one uneven floorboard, I imagined it creaking under soone else’s weight.
I flicked my gaze to the lamp. The pool of warm light was the only thing keeping my spine from locking up entirely. Darkness was his elent and I refused to give him that advantage.
Hi Inner Voice: (mock concern): You think light will save you? Light just makes it easier for to see your face when you break.
I turned the lamp down just a little. Not for him. For . To make the corners dim enough that maybe he wouldn’t see so clearly if No. Stop. Don’t finish that thought. I sat on the bed with my blanket pulled tight around my knees like a child again, hiding from the monster under the bed. Except my monster didn’t crawl. My monster walked straight through doors without knocking. I kept telling myself to stay awake. To keep counting my breaths. One, two, three... Sowhere between thirty and forty, my numbers started slipping. The blanket got heavier. My eyes dragged shut.
When I opened them again, I wasn’t in bed. Cold stone bit into my bare feet. My breath fogged in the air. The corridor stretched out in both directions, dim and endless. Behind , my door stood open a crack, a thin stripe of yellow light spilling out onto the floor.
His Inner Voice: That’s better.
My stomach dropped. I turned slowly and there he was. The crazy psycho. He stood at the far end of the hall, a darker shadow inside the dark, leaning against the wall like he had all the ti in the world. I froze. My body locked in place, every nerve screaming don’t move. Then he started walking. Very slowly. Just... certain.
His Inner Voice: (predatory): Your pulse is stuttering. Makes it harder to run, little toad.
I forced my legs to back up, inching toward the light from my door. My heel touched the threshold. Safety was one step away The door slamd shut.
I flinched so hard my teeth clicked. "No..."
He kept coming, each step asured. Moonlight from the narrow windows washed over him in strips, catching the sharp line of his jaw, the cold glint in his eyes. I turned and ran. But It didn’t matter. Every corner I rounded, every hall I darted down, he was already there sotis ahead of , sotis behind.
His Inner Voice: (low chuckle): Four runs tonight. Should we make it five?
I spun in place. "Leave alone!"
Shouting didn’t wake .
The air shifted behind .
A hand closed around my wrist hot, unyielding, and so strong I felt my bones grind together. I gasped, twisting, but he didn’t loosen his grip.
His Inner Voice: (soft, dangerous): I warned you what happens when you run.
He yanked forward so fast I slamd into his chest. My cheek hit leather. His scent dark, cold air over sothing raw filled my lungs until I couldn’t breathe anything else. His grip slid from my wrist to the back of my neck, fingers curling around the base of my skull. Steering .
The corridor narrowed. The stones here were older, rougher, and slled faintly of damp.
"You’re hurting ," I said, voice cracking.
He didn’t answer with words anyone else could hear.
Inner Voice: (dark, satisfied): Good. You’ll rember better if it hurts.
He stopped at a door I’d never seen before. Heavy wood. Iron bands. No handle on the outside. One push, and it swung inward without a sound.
The room beyond was... wrong. No windows. No lamps. Just the faint spill of hallway light over the threshold. The air was colder here, heavier. The walls seed to lean in. He stepped inside first, still holding my neck, guiding in like I was nothing more than a stray animal he’d decided to pen.
Hi Inner Voice: (soft, coaxing): In you go.
I shook my head. "No—" but He pushed forward. Not hard enough to knock down, but enough to make stumble a few steps inside. The door shut behind us with a sound like finality.
I turned back to him. "What is this place?" But he didn’t answer. He just leaned back against the door, watching with the kind of focus that made my skin feel too tight.
His Inner Voice (low, curling): Mine.
My mouth went dry. "You can’t—"
Three steps, and he was in front of , tilting my face up with a firm grip under my chin.
His Inner Voice: (predatory amusent): Still fighting. Good.
My thoughts tangled panic knotted with sothing I didn’t want to na.
"I want to wake up," I whispered.
He leaned close enough for his words to graze my lips. "Who said you’re dreaming?"
Before I could answer, his other arm snaked around my waist, hauling flush against him. My breath hitched.
Hi Inner Voice: (satisfied): Now you understand.
The air in the room thickened. My vision blurred at the edges. When it cleared, I was back in my bed. The lamp still burned. The chair was still against the door. But my blanket slled faintly of leather. And my wrist where his fingers had gripped bore the red imprint of his hand.
I yanked the covers up to my chin, my whole body shaking.
His Inner Voice: (soft, lingering): I’m hungry.
"I–I will cook right away, Alpha," I heard myself say, even though my voice sounded like soone else’s. Thin. Brittle. The kind that would snap if he pushed too hard.
He looked at with shock written all over his face.
Inner voice: how does she know that I’m hungry?"
But I didn’t wait for him to give permission. I moved. Not too fast too fast would make it look like I was running from him, and running never ended well. But not slow either, because that would an I was making him wait. And waiting made him bored.
And boredom in psycho Alpha Zach was worse than anger.
"Look at her shuffle away like a little wind-up toy. I should wind her up more often. Maybe tighten her until she squeaks. In his inner voice.
His voice wasn’t in my headit was just him, talking without moving his lips. That strange, quiet murmur that always ca from sowhere just behind , too close to the back of my neck. I hated it. It crawled into my ears whether I wanted it to or not. I reached the kitchen, my hands already trembling before I even touched anything. The tiles under my feet felt too loud, every step echoing in the silence. I didn’t need to turn around to know he was there.
"Little oga thinks if she keeps her eyes down, I’ll forget she’s shaking. I see every twitch. Every breath. Every heartbeat trying to run away from . He said in his inner voice.
My fingers fumbled with the cabinet door, and it banged too loudly against the fra. I froze, pulse stuttering. Behind , his footsteps were soft. Too soft. Like a hunter walking through snow.
"What will you make?" he asked, not out loud. Just that smooth inner voice, a voice that could’ve been seductive if it didn’t sound like he was planning to eat with the food.
"I swallowed. "S-soup, Alpha. And bread. Quickly."
"Quickly, she says. I like that word. I like when she tries so hard, thinking she’s saving herself a little pain. hehehe. But I have never tasted her soup, I hope it’s not flavorless like the one’s Elizabeth and the other stupid ogas cook or else I will break her hand, he said in his inner voice
The pot was heavier than I rembered. My wrists shook as I placed it on the stove. I could feel his gaze pressing between my shoulder blades, like he could see straight through my skin. I grabbed the knife, chopping the vegetables as fast as I could without slicing myself open.
"That knife’s bigger than her hands. Imagine if it slipped. Imagine the ss. I’d make her clean it up, of course. On her knees. She looks good on her knees. He said in his inner voice.
My stomach churned, but I kept chopping. Onion, carrot, potato. The blade clicked against the cutting board, and I flinched every ti. A shadow fell over the cutting board. His arm ca into view, braced against the counter beside , caging in without touching . I could sll him sharp, like cedar and smoke, with that underlying heat of wolf musk that made my instincts curl in on themselves.
"Keep going, he said in his inner voice.
I couldn’t tell if my hands shook from the knife or from him. The water in the pot began to boil. I tipped the vegetables in, but a splash of scalding water hit my wrist. I bit down on a sound. If I cried out, he’d notice. And if he noticed I stirred the soup, watching the steam rise, trying to focus on anything except the warmth of his body just inches behind .
"Do you want bread, Alpha?" I asked, because his silence felt like I was standing on thin ice.
"Bread. She wants to feed like a peasant. Maybe I should make her taste it first. Make sure it’s safe. Make her chew it slow so I can watch her throat. He said in his inner voice.
My knees weakened.His words were half-mocking, half-nacing, this ti like he enjoyed watching suffer. Crazy psycho.
The bread knife was dull, but I cut through the loaf with desperate precision. The crust crumbled onto the counter. My hands wanted to brush the crumbs away, but that would an taking too long. So I left them.
"ssy little oga. Maybe I should punish that. Or maybe I like it. Maybe I like her ssy. He said in his inner voice.
The soup simred. The bread sat ready. But he didn’t move. He stayed exactly where he was, his breath warm at the side of my neck.
"Plate it," his inner voice commanded, low and slow.
I obeyed. Two bowls. One for him, one for though I knew I wouldn’t eat. Not unless he made .
"She thinks she’s getting one. How sweet. Stupid toad, he said in his inner voice.
I placed his bowl on the table. My hands shook so badly I almost spilled it.
"She’s trying so hard not to spill. I almost want her to. Just to see her face when it happens. He said in his inner voice.
He finally sat down to eat but his eyes never left . "Sit," his real voice said this ti low, dangerous.
I sat imdiately. He took a slow spoonful, his eyes on the entire ti. "Better," he said, though his tone made it impossible to tell if it was praise or a threat.
"If she keeps cooking like this, I might keep her. Or break her faster. Haven’t decided yet. But this is this best soup I have tasted in my life. He said in his inner voice
I forced my hands to rest in my lap, though every muscle scread to run. The kitchen was too quiet. The only sounds were the scrape of his spoon and the pounding of my heart. And then, without looking up, his inner voice slid into like a blade:
"Still hungry.
My stomach dropped. "I—I can make more, Alpha," I whispered imdiately, the words tumbling over each other as my body trembled.
"Yes. Let’s see what else you can make. Let’s see how long you can keep those hands steady. He said in his inner voice
I stood, moving toward the pantry, already feeling his shadow following .
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