Alpha's Cruel Addiction

Chapter 125  Don't Go

"Don't go." Killorn released a slight groan, covering his eyes with his knuckles, a grimace of pain flashing upon his rogue features. Even in the midst of his agony, he commanded attention with his rugged charisma. "Everything still hurts, Ophelia."

Ophelia panicked, leaning closer to her husband, palm resting upon his chest. She peered down at his chiseled face and body, marked with tales of victories. His broad shoulders were accentuated by his tunic, his soft lips pressed together.

"W-where," Ophelia demanded, pressing against him.

"Everywhere," Killorn complained, wrapping his freed arm around her. "I need you here with me."

Ophelia's heart softened as she worriedly nodded her head. "W-would you like more b-blood—"

"No, just you."

Ophelia blinked in confusion. "A-after I help the people downstairs—"

"I feel like I'm dying," Killorn continued, pulling her down upon him. She couldn't even protest, as he wrapped his entire body around hers in a tight cocoon. "Won't you honor your husband's last wishes?"

Ophelia's heart was heavy with concern, as she peered helplessly at him. His face etched with exhaustion, his brows pulled together, battling unseen demons. She reached out, her fingertips tracing his jawline, where an angry vein popped out.

"Oh give the lady a break," Reagan snorted. "This buffoon is not injured anymore, he simply used a different battle tactic."

"B-but Killorn isn't that kind of m-man…" Ophelia rebutted. Her tough and solemn husband never acted this childish and needy before. If she could give him her heart to heal him, she'd gladly do so.

"His injuries have stopped bleeding," Reagan observed, before muttering something under his breath, and waving a hand over the two of them.

Ophelia was shrouded with a soft breeze, and glanced down, to feel her sliced palm was healing by the second. She was amazed by Reagan's power, but also saw how quickly her blood dried on the spot. Was that what he used to fuel his spell just now?

"But very well," Reagan finished. "Your husband can hog you to himself while his wounded men cling onto their last shred of sanity before succumbing to their agony."

"You'll be at my side in my worst, won't you, my sweet wife?" Killorn murmured, peering into her eyes, his mixed with desperation. His voice strained, yet determined whilst he mustered a weak smile. His hand trembled as he brushed against her cheek. "Those were our marriage vows, darling. Don't you forget."

Reagan walked out, his words leaving a wake of heavy silence between the couple. Ophelia's chest tightened with worry, her brain scrambling to pick between saving the love of her life or more than just one person. "You'll be at my side in my worst, won't you, my sweet wife?" Killorn murmured, peering into her eyes, his mixed with desperation. His voice strained, yet determined whilst he mustered a weak smile. His hand trembled as he brushed against her cheek. "Those were our marriage vows, darling. Don't you forget."

Ophelia responded by kissing his cheek, pulling back seconds before he tried to capture her mouth.

"More, darling." Killorn leaned down, but she turned. "Y-you wouldn't l-lie to me, right?" Ophelia pressured. "Y-you wouldn't f-fake your pain? B-because it hurts me to s-see you like t-this…"

"I—" Killorn paused. "I just," he thought about his next approach. "Won't you let your husband seek comfort in his lovely wife?"

Ophelia frowned. The longer he spoke, the finer he appeared. His eyes, the color of liquid amber, scanned her features, with a mixture of intensity and intrigue. Yet a hint of mischief danced within his smile, reminding her he was a man who walked between the line of danger and allure. His dark hair, tousled and wild, framed his face. "A-and my strong, powerful husband will n-never lie to me?" Ophelia pressed. His lips, full and inviting, curled into a half-smile that held too many secrets. As he stroked her cheeks, his actions fluid and graceful, betraying the lethalness of his touch. "Not after today," Killorn promised, cupping her face and bringing her closer. The muscles beneath his shirt rippled with strength, coiled and controlled. "S-so you're lying to me r-right now," Ophelia realized, twisting herself from him.

Killorn exhaled, flopping onto his back as she sat upright. She glowered down at him, much to his sheepish gaze. "I just don't wish for you to turn into a blood cow, meant to be drained for the sake of my people," Killorn warned her. "The more you give tonight, the more they'll want tomorrow. And again. And again. Until that is all you're good for."

Ophelia nibbed on her bottom lip. She understood his concern. "W-what if I just give you a vial and y-you distribute it as a potion that R-Reagan made."

"It takes more than just a few droplets of your blood to heal people. And besides, any seasoned warrior, much less a werewolf would recognize the smell," Killorn finished. A rough knock echoed in the room. Killorn grunted under his breath, sliding out of the bed, much to her protest.

"But your injuries!" Ophelia cried, scrambling after him, just as Beetle entered the room.

"Alpha, Luna," Beetle acknowledged.

Too formal.

"Many of the men are still injured downstairs," Beetle stated. "You usually visit them, Alpha. Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," Killorn deadpanned, tugging his shirt off in search of a new one to wear. He didn't want to cause an unnecessary concern on his people, even if they knew he'd survive the worst of wounds. "N-no, he was just in pain earlier," Ophelia expressed, trailing after him like a lost puppy. The flicker of candlelight did wonders upon his sun-kissed skin. The air clung to him, and so was her eyes, mesmerized by the contour of his muscles.

His chest, carved with definition. His abdomen rippled with strength as he searched for something to wear. His back, strong and sculpted, bore the marks of countless battles, each one a story of survival that frightened her. Feint and old scars told tales of distant lands and triumphs. She was gnawing with fear that he'd strain something downstairs, but now he'd never let her accompany him.

"Don't worry, Luna, our Alpha is always the epitome of health," Beetle snorted, crossing his arm. Ophelia flushed, glancing away before Killorn saw her. Too late. His piercing eye glued to the side of her head, while his sharp mind formulated another plan to keep her in bed with him. As he brushed past her, eluding a wild elegance of raw power and untamed charm, her stomach began to flutter. He was a force of nature, an embodiment of strength that commanded attention with every stride.

That was why Killorn needed to be downstairs. He was a solid foundation for his injured soldiers, a reminder that they'd made it out of the battles alive. He was an undeniable charisma, a presence that'd leave an irreversible mark upon all who crossed his path.

"My wife hasn't eaten all night," Killorn instructed Beetle. "Bring her supper upstairs and call for Janette to prepare her for bed."

"B-but I can help—"

"Help me by staying in our chambers, safe and pampered," Killorn interjected. "You need to be brimming with health tomorrow to reassure the women and children. Let me deal with the wounded."

Ophelia gritted her teeth, refusing to back down. "I-if you could just l-let me—"

"I did let you," Killorn warned, his tone lowering with ferocity. Her shoulders caved in. "I let you onto the battlefield and found you fainted on the floor with Layla, and your dress ripped, with dead beasts by your side. Not long, the monsters started dropping like flies, and you whispered to Layla some foolish parting words for me."

Ophelia froze. She didn't think she had said it out loud.

"So please," Killorn heaved. "For my sanity's sake, stay up here. You've done enough for tonight, Ophelia. Truly."

His words were supposed to be reassuring. His parting kiss on her cheeks should've warned her. Yet, when Ophelia sat down on the bed, she had never felt more alone. She peered at the floor, at her sliced palm already healed. She stared at her feet, even when Janette came with supper, then helped bathe the lady, and change her into a nightgown.

Ophelia's mind wandered to the monsters from tonight, how abnormal everyone made it seem. If only there was something she could do. If only, she had enough blood for everyone.

"My lady?" Janette called out when Ophelia jumped to her feet. Neil. Ophelia's eyes widened. Neil had taken ten bottles of blood out of her! "Q-quick, Janette dresses me to see everyone in the hospital. I-I have to tell Killorn something."

Janette's lips parted. She was on orders to tuck the lady into bed and make sure she wasn't getting herself in more shenanigans. "I can relay the message to Alpha—"

Ophelia already threw her closet doors open, pulling out a purple gown her husband must've ordered. "T-this one."

"As you wish, my lady," Janette softly sighed with a slight smile, knowing the lady can't be persuaded once she made up her mind. She could only do her best to support the lady from the sidelines, and that meant the quickest and simplest attire possible. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Before the two ladies knew it, Ophelia was already dashing down the stairs, a vision of lavender. She had an idea now and knew there must be a way to save everyone. She just hoped Killorn would agree.