[CrimsonMoon Pack - Alpha's Study]
Dante was back in the pack. It had been a few hours…but he didn't sit…nor did he calm down…
He stormed back and forth across his office.
His steps definitely echoed like some impatient war drum.
A stack of files sat neatly on the corner of his desk…he slapped them to the ground with a snarl as the papers scattered like startled birds.
A pen rolled off, clattering uselessly.
He kicked the stool out of his way, sending it crashing into the wall.
"Fuck!" he spat, dragging a hand through his hair. "What the hell was that, Amara? What the fuck did you think you were doing?"
He grabbed another pen, flipped it carelessly, snapped it in two without meaning to, ink bleeding down his palm. He stared at it for a heartbeat, chest heaving, then hurled the pieces into the fire.
But no matter how loud he cursed, how hard he tried to shake her from his head, she still lingered.
The taste of her lips still lingered.
That kiss…that clumsy, desperate, too honest kiss…that carved straight through his well built armor.
Dante froze mid step.
His breath hitched, ragged, as the memory replayed. The taste of her mouth. The sound of her laughter…dizzy against his chest.
His rage faltered. Something softer crept in, uninvited.
He saw her the first time they met…her eyes bright with defiance, her voice too damn stubborn for her own good…those sweet sweet innocent days…
Then the night she had fallen asleep at the table, head tipped against her folded arms, hair falling across her cheek…and he had stood there like a fool, brushing it back too carefully…without waking her up.
His throat tightened. He sank back against his desk, fingers curling into the wood.
"Damn you, woman, " Dante spat, hoarse. "Why does it feel like I've missed you? I hate you…hate you, whore!!!"
For a moment…just a fleeting moment…the anger bled into longing…a hunger that made his chest ache, his body tremble… but… but how was this possible?
Their mate bond was gone. That woman should not have any control whatsoever over his body… his senses…
Dante's lips curled into a snarl. His hand slammed down onto the desk, claws gouging deep scars into the wood.
"No," he growled to the empty room. "No.There is no scope for weakness.She nearly killed us both…this might be her new game…I need to get to the root of it…that vixen can not be trusted…at all!!! Fuck…" Dante grabbed the last piece of pottery on his table and flung it carelessly, across the room.
The vase exploded against the door with a deafening crack…only for the door to swing open a heartbeat later.
Beta Archer stepped in…dusting a shard off his shoulder like it was confetti thrown in his honor.
"Well, damn," he drawled, tilting his head. "Didn't know you redecorated!"
He looked down, lips twitching.
Dante's eyes snapped up, blazing. "You are late."
"Late?" Archer gave an exaggerated grimace, stepping lightly past the wreckage. "Forgive me, Alpha, for not scheduling myself in time for your little 'smash everything in sight tantrum'. Next time I will bring protective boots and maybe a helmet."
Dante growled, raking a hand through his hair again, his body restless. "Spit it out, Archer. What's the development?"
Archer sauntered closer, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes sweeping the chaos like he was rating Dante's redecorating choices. "You mean the little spectacle you left us with in the middle of the woods?"
Dante's jaw flexed. "Yes! That woman. Amara." He forced the name out like it was venom, his tone low, deliberate. "Where is she?" What he meant to ask was 'how'... How is she?!
Archer's brows rose, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Straight to the point. How unlike you."
"Answer me," Dante snapped.
Archer sighed with mock gravity, then perched casually on the edge of the desk…right where Dante's claws had scored deep gouges into the wood. He tapped one finger against the scar. "She is in the healers' quarters. We dragged her there after you so gracefully abandoned her."
Dante's nostrils flared.
He folded his arms, feigning indifference. "Good. Let them deal with her. The sooner she's patched up, the sooner she can get back to being useful for the pack. Oh she still needs to pay for a lot."
Archer chuckled under his breath. "Mhm. Sure. That's exactly why you are pacing holes into your floor like a wolfhound waiting for his master."
" Watch your tongue Beta! I am not in a good mood! "
"Oh! I can tell! Alright then…I will be leaving. Since you don't want the rest of the report, there is no more need for me here…"
Dante's glare sharpened, but his voice came out cold, clipped. "What's her condition?"
Archer leaned back on the desk, swinging one leg carelessly. "Well, the healers said dipping her in the geyser was a brilliant idea. Slowed down the poison spreading through her bloodstream."
Dante's lips curled into a grim smile. "Of course it was. I knew it would."
"Don't pat yourself on the back just yet." Archer's grin turned sly. "You also left her in there so long, her body nearly froze and boiled all at once. Apparently, fragile little things don't take kindly to being marinated in nature's bathtub."
Dante's chest tightened, but he rolled his shoulders, masking it with a scoff. "She's stronger than she looks. She will survive.She is a sly little thing. Nobody knows her better than me. She looks fragile but she is capable of breaking the hardest of souls…"
Archer tilted his head, studying him. "Maybe. Maybe not.Things like souls, can get very complicated. Anyways, the healers say her body is fighting but the damage was… delicate." His smile dimmed, though the mischief never quite left his eyes. "Might take a while."
Silence stretched. The fire crackled.
Dante turned away abruptly, picking up a shard of pottery, rolling it between his fingers like he didn't care at all. "So… what you are saying is… she will be wasting more of our resources." His tone was deliberately sharp, dismissive. "Figures. Always dragging people down with her recklessness."
Archer smirked. "Ah, there is the 'hatred to die for' again. I was starting to worry you'd gone soft."
Dante's eyes flicked to him, dark…dangerous. "Don't push me."
"I am not pushing anything," Archer said cheerfully, rising from the desk and brushing off his hands. "I was just… observing. You ask about her like you don't give a damn, but your eyes, Alpha…" He gestured lazily at Dante's face. "Your eyes look like you are one breath away from sprinting to the healer's ward."
Dante let out a low, bitter laugh. "You see too much for your own good."
"That's why you keep me around," Archer quipped, tapping two fingers to his temple.
Then, suddenly his expression changed…he added softer. "She is alive, Dante.Does that really bother you so much?! "
The words hung heavy.
Dante didn't answer.
His fingers clenched around the pottery shard until it cut into his palm…blood started dripping in droplets…slow and dark onto the floor.
Archer saw it but said nothing, only smirked faintly before heading for the door. "Try not to break anything else before I am back. Or at least save some furniture for me…I love smashing chairs too."
The door closed behind him, leaving Dante alone again.This time, the silence roared.
For the first time in hours…Dante wasn't moving.
His knuckles tickled from gripping the pottery shard too hard. Blood still dripped, pattering against the wooden floorboards.
With a growl, he yanked open the drawer, pulled out a bottle of amber liquor, and twisted the cap with a snap that echoed like a gunshot.The strongest kind of brew for the stronger wolves… not enough for someone like Dante… but it would do.
"Useless…" he muttered under his breath, tilting it to his lips. The burn scorched down his throat, sharp enough to sting, dull enough to barely dent the ache twisting inside him. He slammed the bottle against the desk, wiping the back of his mouth with his sleeve.
Another swallow. Another.
He was about to take the third when…
Something slammed into him.
Dante's hand jerked. The bottle slipped, crashing to the ground…the liquor spilled across the rug in a widening pool.
His breath seized.
It felt like invisible fingers had wrapped around his throat.
A chokehold…tight, merciless.
His own lungs convulsed, fighting for air.
"What…the fuck…" he rasped, clutching at his neck. His claws scraped his own skin in a futile attempt, trying to rip the unseen grip away.
Then came the second blow.
His heart lurched with an agonizing twist…like someone had dug claws straight into the muscle and was squeezing it.
Dante staggered back against the desk, gasping, pupils blown wide.
"No…no, this pain…this isn't mine…" His voice cracked, hoarse, disbelief curling like smoke around the words.
The pain sharpened, doubled.
His vision almost swam a little. He dropped to one knee, teeth bared, spittle glistening on his lips.
At this point Dante realised…this pain…was hers.
He didn't know how that was even possible… but he just 'knew' it was hers…
Someone…someone was choking the life out of Amara.
"Fuck!" His roar ripped from his chest, echoing around the room.
He clutched at his sternum, then staggered upright, shoving himself off the desk. A chair toppled behind him. The liquor spread further across the floor, glistening under the firelight like spilled blood.
"No… No, this can't be…" he growled, shaking his head hard. "Our bond is long gone!What the fuck is this trickery…"
And yet, each strangled gasp rattled in his lungs as though her lungs were his. Each crushing spasm in his chest pulled him back to her.
His wolf howled inside, frantic. "Mate. Save her."
Dante's eyes flared gold. The denial splintered, shattered.
He didn't think anymore.
And before another breath, he was gone.
The study door slammed open so violently it cracked against the wall. His boots thundered down the corridor, claws slicing through his skin as his wolf surged closer to the surface.
By the time anyone could register the blur of him passing, Dante was already outside, cutting through the night, tearing towards the Healers' quarters…