Chapter 61: Aftermath
Walter Pov
"Stop moving so much, it will only make it hurt more," I mutter as I try to place the bandage on Oril’s face. We’re seated on the carpet in my room, the air still heavy from the fight that broke out twenty minutes ago. Torin and Oril had been pounding each other mercilessly until Augi finally decided to get off the couch and help Kei and Oracle peel Torin away from him. I haven’t seen the bitch who caused all of this since.
"I can’t sit still, it hurts. I feel like my face is about to burst," Oril whines, flinching as he speaks. I roll my eyes, ignoring his complaints. He wouldn’t be in this condition if he hadn’t thrown the first punch. Stupid alpha‑brained ass, playing right into Lorali’s trap. Torin and Oril gave her a perfect show. I still have the wink she gave me replaying in my head.
"Do you think Oracle was involved in Torin’s scheme? Is that why he delayed us from returning?" I ask suddenly, suspicion gnawing at me. Oril shakes his head, his expression firm despite the swelling. "My brother may be a Torin loyalist, but I don’t think he would ever scheme against you."
"But Lorali is his fated mate, the one he bonded with. That could have clouded his judgment." The words taste bitter in my mouth. It kills me to remember that Lorali is Oracle’s fated mate. It reminds me that I have no right to hate her for bonding with him, it was the will of the moon goddess. And who am I to question her?
"And yet he is ever so willing to keep his distance from her, all because he cares about you," Oril says, his voice steady despite the pain. "Oracle cares for you, Wals. He would never betray you. I believe this was the work of Torin alone."
I nod slowly, choosing to believe him. I can’t doubt Oracle now, not after all he has sacrificed for me. Maybe he really just wanted pizza.
"You look like a pufferfish," I chuckle, pressing the hot cloth against his swollen eye harder than necessary, venting my frustration. "I don’t get why you always fight with Torin. Haven’t you learned by now that you’re always in worse condition when the fight ends?"
Oril winces, sucking in a sharp breath. "Was I supposed to let him insult you and me like that?" I sigh, dipping the cloth back into the warm bassinet of water before placing the cloth on his other eye. "It’s not like what he said was true. I’m not insecure. I know you all love me."
I glance at him, his battered face a reminder of how far things have fallen. There was a time when Oril and Torin got along, enough for Torin to make him his second. But those times are long gone. Their fallout happened when I was still at the Omega Institution so I don’t know what happened, the only thing I know is it happened right around the same time Oril lost his singing voice. I can’t help but think both matters are connected, though no one ever speaks of it.
"I am a good Alpha to you, right?" Oril asks, his eyes nervous, searching mine for reassurance. I sigh, lowering the cloth from his other eye. "You are the perfect Alpha to me," I whisper, leaning closer until my lips brush his.
Oril takes full advantage, deepening the kiss, his tongue dancing against mine as his hand slips inside my pants. A shiver runs down my spine, my breath catching.
"Let me knot you," he growls, his voice rough, sending chills through me. Gods, how I would love for him to knot me right now, to lose myself in him completely. But before I can answer, a knock rattles against the door. I gasp, pulling away, lungs desperate for air.
"I need to check who it is," I say quickly, rising to my feet.
"Leave it," Oril groans, trailing kisses down my hand, gripping me tighter.
"It could be important news. Like today, when we chose pizza instead," I mutter, prying myself free. His frustrated groan follows me as I cross the room. As much as I want him—want to be knotted, claimed and consumed—I can’t risk missing something important again.
I unlock the door and open it slightly, peeking out, expecting Oracle or another packmate. But there’s no one. Not a single soul.
Instead, I’m assaulted by the scent of vanilla.
"Augh," I scoff, covering my nose. "This place needs a deep clean. Every corner smells like her." My mood sours instantly, the sweetness clinging to me like poison. I slam the door shut, cursing myself for opening it at all.
"Now, let’s pick up where we left off," Oril calls from the bed, already shirtless, sprawled across the sheets with a hungry look in his eyes.
I roll my eyes at the sight, the scent of vanilla etched into my mind, refusing to fade. My mood is completely ruined because of that scent. "Not in the mood anymore," I snapped, my tone coming out irritated.
"What?" He tilts his head, confusion flickering across his bruised face.
I ignore him, climbing into my nest and pulling the blanket over myself. He tugs at it, trying to get me out of it but I yank harder, wrapping it around me like armor.
His hand touches me through the blanket, tentative and seeking affection.
"Go to bed, Oril," I say coldly, shaking his hand off and turning to face the other side.
Damn that scent. Damn her.
Torin Pov
"You don’t have to do this," I murmur as Lorali walks up to me in the bathroom, a first aid kit clutched in her hands.
"I want to," she replies softly, her voice soft and tender. "You took care of my injuries. I want to take care of yours." She offers me a gentle smile, and in that moment, I feel as though everything I endured today was worth it, just to see her smile again.
I watch her place the kit on the bathroom island near the sink before she opens the tap and wets a cloth with warm water. "Get down," she says, tilting her head up toward me.
"I have a better idea," I whisper, stepping forward and grasping her waist. I lift her easily, placing her on the bathroom island. Her cheeks flush crimson, and I laugh softly.
"There isn’t anything funny," she protests, her voice flustered.
"There is," I counter, leaning closer, my breath brushing against her skin. She nods, her blush deepening, and gods, she looks so cute when she blushes.
A warm sensation spreads across my face as she presses the cloth to my cheek. I keep my gaze locked on her, even though she avoids mine, her eyes darting away.
"Sto...p staring at me," she mumbles, her lips trembling.
I smile. "I’m just admiring my mate. Can I not do that?"
"What’s there to admire? I’m covered in plasters and bandages," she pouts, moving the cloth away from my cheek to run it under the tap again.
"Everything," I confess, my voice low. She presses the cloth back against my cheek, and relief spreads through me. That damn Oril really knows how to throw a punch. He should become a boxer instead of chasing after a dead career.
"You know," she says suddenly, her voice dropping, concern lacing every word, "you didn’t have to go public about me. The last thing I want is any of you fighting because of me."
"I did something that should have been done a long time ago," I answer firmly, raising my hand to cup her cheek. My palm brushes against the bandage there, and my chest tightens. "Do not blame yourself for what happened. I deserve the wounds I got today—and a lot more—for what has happened to you."
She nods, biting the inside of her cheek as she finishes tending to me, stamping my wounds with hot water, then applying numbing cream and blowing gently across my skin.
"I’ll return to my room," she says quietly, sliding off the counter.
I catch her hand before she can leave. "This is your room now. You’ll sleep here from now on."
She tilts her head, her eyes wide, scanning the space. "Here?" she asks, confused. "But there’s only one bed."
"I’ll sleep on the floor. You can take the bed."
"No, you can’t take the floor, this is your room. It’s fine, I’ll sleep on the floor," she says nervously, shaking her hands as if to ward off the idea.
I shake my head, refusing before I up walk to my cupboard and pull out a large blanket. "Trust me, I can sleep on the floor. If you slept in that shed for half a year, you can see this as me apologizing for that." I spread the blanket across the floor near the bed and sit down on it.
"Come on, take the bed," I say, motioning toward it.
She hesitates, then reluctantly makes her way to the bed. "Here, at least take a pillow," she says, grabbing one and tossing it toward me. I catch it, smiling ear to ear.
It warms my heart to know she cares for me, even in small gestures.
I fluff the pillow, inhaling the faint trace of her scent, and set it on my blanket before laying down. "Good night, Sugarplum," I murmur, staring up at the ceiling.
"Good night, Torin," she whispers back.
Comments