Alpha's Cruel Addiction

Killorn thought a dried leaf had touched his cheek. That was how weak she was. Ophelia was as small as a bunny in his eyes. How could a prey possibly hurt a predator? It was not with her hands, but her gaze.

Ophelia's watery eyes were filled with hatred. She bit on her bottom lip, a scorned expression on her innocent face. She was trembling more than thin branches weighed by winter snow. Her stare was shaky with no resolve, but her hatred for him was clear.

Ophelia abhorred him.

"Do it again."

Killorn bent his face so that it would be easier to hit him. What else could she do? This little wife of his, he thought all she knew how to do was cry and hold onto him tightly. He was surprised that a bunny's paw could be used to harm others. Her mouth was quivering, the hatred evident.

Killorn experienced a stir in his chest. That was impossible. The only emotion he felt was rage on top of fury. Hatred. Disgust. Annoyance. He seldom felt many good things in his life.

"Come now, I know you can."

Killorn even caressed his cheek, showing her the perfect surface to assault. A lone tear slid down her face. He had never seen someone as innocent as her with such a venomous glower. When she was calm, she was graceful as a swan. When she attacked, one saw the peck of a violent bird.

"Alpha—I mean, Commander."

"There is no use in hiding now." Killorn straightened up. He yanked his cape's hood over her head even further, hiding her lovely face. Only he got to marvel at her beauty. And he certainly wasn't the kind of man to share.

"Gerald." Killorn narrowed his gaze.

"It smells like a barbeque," another voice loosely whistled. "If you count the burnt human and vampire flesh as appetizing."

Ophelia's stomach churned with disgust. She wanted to flee. Her legs were begging her to. She should run for the hills, screaming bloody murder. But how in the world would she possibly escape a man like him?

Ophelia didn't know. She had just done the most astronomical thing in the world—an action that should've earned a beating to the ground. Ophelia thought he would grab her by the hair and smack her until she tasted blood. If a regular slap from a man was bad, how painful would a metal-gloved hand be?

Ophelia warily glanced at his gauntlet.

"You're a cannibal now, Beetle?" Gerald dryly commented, casting him a disguised glance.

"If you've eaten a woman with your tongue, wouldn't that make you a cannibal too?" Beetle sardonically responded

What kind of name was Beetle? Did his mother not love him? Ophelia wisely kept the name to herself.

"Stupid and Stupider," Killorn gruffly introduced his second and third in command to Ophelia. He saw her hesitant glances their way. His chest tightened and he suppressed a growl.

Killorn grabbed his wife by the waist. Was she going to pretend she hadn't just struck him in the face? To his surprise, she willingly let herself be tugged in his direction. Did she want to obey him in public and disobey in private?

Killorn narrowed his eyes. He tightened his grip on her hip, but all he felt were bones. His blood boiled. He should've tortured them far beyond burning them all alive and then letting their ashes be carried by the wind. The worst death known to mankind.

"And who's Stupid? You, Gerald?" Beetle snickered, his eyes crinkling like a Cheshire cat licking at his paws.

Killorn quirked a warning brow.

That alone was enough for Beetle to nervously laugh and raise his hands in defeat. But he did glance to the side, hiding a mischievous smile. What a rare occasion for the Commander to not punish him. He only had a lovely lady in an oversized cape to thank.

"You should be worrying about who's Stupidest, Stupidest," Gerald deadpanned whilst dragging the man by his collar towards the direction of the stables.

"I'm pretty certain that's you," Beetle retorted. "All brawns and no brain—"

"I'll show you brawn—"

"Get onto your damn saddles," Killorn barked.

"But—"

"Before I cook it with this fire and shove it down your throat," Killorn hissed, his patience running thin.

The two men grumbled and complained the entire walk through the dark alleyway next to the burning houses. By now, the horses were neighing and tugging at their reins. At their masters approaching, they quietened down enough for their leashes to be untied.

Ophelia watched the entire ordeal unfold with a silent expression. She didn't know what to feel. Her heart dared to be giddy with relief. Killorn was here. Her husband was here in flesh and blood.

Killorn had saved her.

—too late, her brain reminded her.

So, Ophelia could only close up her excited heart. She lowered her gaze to the ground, in the same manner that her attackers taught her. Obedience was instilled in Ophelia since birth, but she was further reminded of it in the auction house. She would never forget the lessons she learned there.

"Come here." Killorn gently beckoned his wife. When she remained rooted to the ground, her head bent to him, he felt his emotions tick.

Ophelia's submission unnerved him. Killorn always knew she was a proper and well-bred lady. Killorn expected her elegance and demure nature, but didn't think it was this extreme.

"This is an ugly dress," Killorn stated when she simply gawked at his audacity. He raised his head, saw his men were occupied, and bent to caress her face.

Ophelia flinched back. His expression darkened.

Killorn gritted his teeth with a brooding stare. Immediately, she averted her eyes, backing down too quickly for his taste.

"Let me help you, my lovely wife." Killorn grabbed her waist and lifted her off her feet. She yelped in shock and raised her head in time to see an approaching carriage stop right in front of them.

Ophelia's eyes widened. He hoisted her with ease onto the carriage ride. Her heart raced and thumped wildly.

Ophelia was startled by the softness of the velvet. This kind of carriage was something her eldest sibling always wanted, for it rivaled the luxury of the royal family. But the Eves were never that daring enough to compete with the empire.

Killorn couldn't care less. He chose the fanciest carriage just for Ophelia.

"Will you not speak, Ophelia?" Killorn gently asked.

Ophelia gawked at him. Who was going to tell him the truth?

"What exactly did those scum do to you?" Killorn cupped her face. She stared at him as if she were mute. There was no joy or light in her eyes.

Ophelia turned her face away. Did he know the horrid lesson they put her through? Not to mention, the heavy cuffs still weighed her wrists down. They were crafted from titanium, one that was meant to keep magic at bay—not like Ophelia possessed it anyway.

"Prepare yourself." Killorn's voice was cold as ice. "We're heading to the Nileton estate."