I tug my legs closer to my body, wincing as the open cuts scrape against the dirty concrete. Through the wild curtain of my hair, I can feel the massive, chained alpha’s dark eyes on me.
A soft growl vibrates through the air.
I shove myself backwards, away from him, as far as the chain around my ankle will allow. A whimper leaves my throat in response to the terrifying noise.
The room is still full of the overwhelming scents of all the other alpha handlers. I’ve never been around so many alphas in my life, let alone that many posturing alphas who were shoving their dominance at each other like they were brawling it out on the floor.
The mix of their scents almost makes me dizzy. Especially because my body seems to reject the majority of them.
There is one scent though that cuts through the scent of mold, manure, and spoiled milk.
The scent of fresh eucalyptus.
The alpha moves, his chains clinking menacingly, and I flinch backward again. The memory of his face, contorted with rage, sticks in my brain like tar.
All alphas I’ve met so far have proven themselves to be big and terrifying. This one is no exception.
But to my surprise, instead of lunging towards me like he did the other alpha handlers, he sinks back onto his heels, almost like he’s trying to make himself appear smaller. And not in a way that makes me think he’s preparing to attack me either.
He’s making himself seem like less of a threat.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he murmurs.
My gaze jerks up to his face, and I purse my lips, picking at cuticles nervously.
His dark eyes soften as they take in my assessing gaze.
I believe him.
“Okay,” I say, giving him a jerky nod. “Thank you.”
He seems surprised at my gratitude.
“’Course. I don’t hurt women.”
“But you do hurt men?”
He just shrugs, glancing away from me. “I don’t know if you want to hear the answer to that, sweetheart. Last thing I want is for you to freak out again.”
“You—you don’t like seeing me freak out?” I ask, my brows drawing down in confusion.
“Fuck no,” he snaps.
It makes my breath catch in my throat, but I do my best to steady my breathing and not flinch away from him.
“Why…why don’t you like seeing me freak out?”
“That’s a good question,” he huffs, shifting his weight so he’s sitting back against the wooden wall. “I don’t know. It just doesn’t sit right. Makes me twitchy. Like I need to cave someone’s face in.”
“Oh.”
His lips quirk with amusement at my single-syllable response, but seriously, I have no clue what to say.
“That’s probably a good enough answer to your question ‘bout whether I hurt men, though, huh?” He says, giving me a toothy grin.
On anyone else, it would probably seem menacing. But even though the look is still definitely predatory, there’s a handsome sort of charm that has me staring openly. My heartbeat picks up in my chest.
Despite the bruising dusting his cheekbone and the dark circles under his eyes, he’s really attractive. Almost breathtakingly so, in a masculine, could-rip-me-to-pieces-with-his-pinky-finger kind of way.
