THE ALPHA’S ADDICTION

Emma’s hard breathing could be heard as she took sharp intake of breaths, in and out, intermittently.

What had she just seen? She queried her mind, her eyes blinking continually as if in sheer disbelief of what she had seen.

She ambulated towards the painting again, hoping to see the glow which had scared the life out of her. But when she had gotten to the painting, caressing it even again, hoping for the glow that had sharply burst forth out the painting few minutes earlier before dying out as fast as it had come, she had been disappointed; the glow wasn’t forthcoming, and the picture had returned to its former state.

Had she been imagining it? She thought to herself, then shaking her head voraciously the next second, as she refuted the thought. She hadn’t been dreaming or imagining; she had been wide awake and had seen the painting shone for some seconds.Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

For the next minute she cussed about her fiddle-footedness; she would have been able to see something or perceive something if she had stood her ground. She thought, before pretending to turn away from the painting, taking into account that it had shone when she had tried to turn away the first time. But it was all to no avail. The painting remained still, except one thing which Emma realized with a sudden intensity. The eyes of the woman in the painting was staring at her intently, with a small smile on her face!

“Oh…my…God!” She shrieked, covering her mouth the next second as she remembered that she was in someone’s sitting room at midnight, maundering about. She had to kept her voice low.

Cautiously, she approached the painting for the third time, staring in shock at what she was still seeing. She must be in some kind of horrific tale. She thought, already wracked with fear as she remembered the horror movies she had usually with her sister or friends at midnight where the persons in the pictures or paintings in a house, move unexpectedly.

She took off her eyes from the painting and gazed around the sitting room, hoping and half believing, but also in the same minute, cancelling the hope and belief, of seeing something out of the ordinary like an ugly looking ghost, or the phanthom she had encountered in the forest. She didn’t want to see either of those things. She might faint out of shock and fear. She looked back at the picture, and shouted, falling to the ground the next second, as she saw that the woman in the painting was smiling widely now, her beautiful white display on display.

“This house is haunted…” She kept muttering, her teeth clattering in fear, as she stared back at the picture, already prepared for the worse to happen.

And when she heard heavy footsteps moving in the hallway, getting nearing by the passing second, she closed her eyes, bracing for the worst, her body bathed all over with goose bumps and fear.

It’s here now. She thought, as she felt a presence close to her.

She was about opening her eyes and mouth, to start up a pleading case, even though she had remembered that the wicked ghosts in the horror movies she had watched at that time doesn’t listen to pleas, when she heard the voice of a man; the slumbrous voice of a man.

“What are you doing here?” The voice had asked, causing her to unclose her eyes and look up from her fallen state. The presence she had felt, the voice she had just heard belonged to Derek’s father!

Could this night get any more worse? She thought as she scrambled around, trying to get on feet to face the man which she had never spoken to one on one, a man whom she had never seen at a close range for the first time, a man who was the father of the guy she loved, a man whom she is supposed to make a good first impression on; a feat which had just been conquered by her lying ungainly on the ground. She had to rectify that.

“Good morning sir.” She greeted when she had finally stood up, her fear about the painting forgotten at that time. She hoped that it was near morning. There was no clock in the sitting room. A first. She thought, having believed that a clock must be present in a sitting room.

“Good morning.” Alpha Peter replied, staring at her with skeptic eyes.

He had been sleeping, when he had heard the first shout, then the second. It had been faint, but he had heard it. But then, he hadn’t been sure if it was reality or his imagination. An so he had gotten out of his bed slowly and gently, not wanting to wake up his mate unnecessarily, in order to prove the trueness of the situation.

As he had left his room, he had perceived the scent of the human, the redhead which he had noticed was getting unnecessarily attached to his family, the human girl who had reminded him of his old friend, Sheila.

Cussing loudly, he had traced the scent and had followed it till it led to the sitting room.

When he had seen her lying gracelessly on the floor with her eyes shut tightly as if anticipating some unseen evil, he had soughed, wondering whether she had been sleepwalking and dreaming at the same time or if something else had happened. He had decided to go for the later. Nothing serious could have happened in his pack without him knowing.

“What are you doing here?” He finally asked her, after watching her scramble to her feet, whilst trying to compose herself and make a good impression. Up close, he was hit again by the canny resemblance between her and his old friend.

“I…I…” Emma stammered, suddenly at a loss of words as she stared into that deep blue eyes. Now at close range, she wondered if the blue eyes she had seen in her dream was his own, rather than Derek’s own. They both had similar eyes.

‘Well, they are blood.’ Her mind said to her, and she couldn’t agree less. Blood was really thicker than water.

“You should take a deep breath in and out. I won’t hurt you.” Alpha Peter stated, before taking a seat on one of the sofas.

“You should sit too.” He added patiently, while pointing out the next sofa to him, by the left.

“Okay. Thank you.” Emma replied, paying heed to his words dutifully. She took deep breaths, in and out, to calm herself down, even as she walked towards the sofa that the older man had pointed out to her, and sat down.

“So, what were you doing here by this time of the night?” Alpha Peter asked for the third time, hoping that it would be the last time too. He wasn’t really a patient man, and already longed for the confinement of his mate’s arms.

“I couldn’t sleep. So, I had decided to take a walk around the house.” She answered, twisting her fingers on each other, her head totally bent down.

She wasn’t sleep walking then. Alpha Peter concluded. So, what could have been her object of terror? What could have made her shriek three times and fall to the ground in abject fear? Had something attacked her? The witches perhaps? He wondered, remembering the event that had transpired in the forest few weeks ago, where the redhead had almost gotten his son killed. Well, it had really been her fault though. He admitted. But she had attracted a deathly phanthom and a colony of witches to his pack. He didn’t need the extra attention now, even though he was very curious about the redhead human and what her deal really was with the queen of the witches.

It still left him befuddled. The fact that they had sent a phanthom to capture her, like she was some strong superhuman, who would have resisted attacks ordinarily from her fellow band of humans, unless they had been watching her closely and had noticed that she had gotten quite close with his son and his family, in general. His mate even seemed fixated on her, always in communication with her witch friend which he had never seem to get along with, for updates on why the witches were interested in a mere human.

“Why couldn’t you sleep? A bad dream?” He asked, trying to be less opinionated, trying to show care to the familiar human; after all he had a daughter too.

“Yeah.” Emma replied, hoping that he wouldn’t ask for the dream that had gotten her awake in the first place. She felt that it wasn’t necessary for a governor to hear unnecessary and wild dreams of a common girl. She thought that he had much better things to do.

But her expectation was cut short, because in the next beat of time, he asked her of the question she had hoped he wouldn’t ask.

“What was the dream all about? Could you share it?” Alpha Peter asked, surprised at himself for going an extra mile for the human. Perhaps, it was because she reminded him of Sheila. He concluded.

Emma bit her lips, knowing that she couldn’t say no to this man of a high authority. And so, taking a deep breath again, for the umpteenth time that night, she opened her mouth to talk about her weird dream when a voice interrupted her.

“Emma, what are you doing here? Peter, what is wrong?” The voice coated with worry had asked.