The Lunas Second Chance Mate
(Book 2) Chapter 11

Alyson

I wait until he thinks I've fallen asleep, watching his insurmountable pacing finally cease before he returns to the suite off of his bedroom. I hear the water fill the tub. I work at my wrists, bloody with blisters so that my wrists slide out freely, only at the mercy of a hiss. I look up, hearing the water part at the Alpha settling into his bath, and eye the bedroom door.

Whatever I had to drink at dinner wasn't just wine. I know by the feeling in my gut now that it was the same poison as I had before, the muting potion that lingers in my blood making it hard for me to sense my wolf, if at all, and I can't tell if there's another outside the door or down the hall. In my woozy state, I must try.

Even with a drunken, hazy stagger, I limp through the bedroom and into the hallway, seeing it empty thankfully. I press to the wall, walking slowly as I try to replace which way is out of this packhouse. My senses are stunned, my body weary, but I push myself to continue, replaceing a door slightly ajar with a darkened room.

I force myself inside of it, failing to my knees in the corner of what appears to be a kitchen, my breath ragged and sharp in inhale. I lean to the wall to keep me somewhat upright, feeling the weight of the last couple of days finally pressing into my chest.

I picture my mate, his precious light eyes and his curly, untamed hair. I can almost feel his hands gripping my sides, his lips pressing to my throat, making out with the mark he made to prove to the world that I am a taken woman, a proudly presented Luna, and that the mark he made was the last significant step to our lives together.

Reaching out through the mind link, I feel so disconnected.

"Ryan," I breathe, my head falling forward, my body slowly shutting down.

There's heavy steps pounding through the hallway, catching my attention. I peer around the kitchen counters from the floor, watching warriors of the rogue pack rush through the hall, toward Olivera's room. My head snaps back in place, my mind tricking me into a taking a break when I should have been replaceing a way free of this damned place.

I groan, attempting to stand, instead falling sideways onto the tile floor, my vision kicking around in my head for a few seconds. I grumble. This is not going to work very well. I regret the wine, allowing him to poison me again, and I regret not attending the dinner with my mate the night I was taken. I knew I should have stayed and I left anyways.

"FIND HER NOW!"

I shiver, reaching for the cabinet nearby, pushing aside some of the pots and pans and crawling inside the cupboard. Curled upright, I manage to shut myself into the darkness, my breathing even more ragged in this cramped spot. Tilting my head back, my vision settles on the sight of my mate.

Alpha, I hum, sitting up to see Ryan placed before me, smiling wide. What are you doing here, Alpha? We aren't safe here.

I came to see you, he replies with a cheerful edge to his tone. How's my mate doing?

I miss you, I admit shamelessly. Olivera isn't nice to me. He blames me for the death of rogues I've never met, Alpha. He hates us and he hates the elders on the board. Are they truly terrible people, Ryan? Would they kill rogues just-just because?

His features soften, his eyes full of pity. Even wolves who try to be good can stray in the effort to be so. I don't know if they have done what he accuses, but you can't make a judgment until you know for sure. You are good at conviction, darling, you will know what is right.

The cupboard door is ripped open, almost off the hinges, and the vision of my empathetic mate is torn from my sight. I flinch backwards, scooting my back flush against the wall, staring down the hateful eyes of a rogue.

He tips a head over his shoulder, severing his gaze from my own. "In here, Alpha!"

"Don't touch her," I hear Olivera growl, shoving the rogue aside as he kneels down to my level, still capable of towering over me in his vicious height. His red eyes are fuming, his fists clenched at his side. "Do you dare defy me so blatantly, Luna?"

My head droops to my shoulder, my world still spinning through the haze in my head. "Where did he go?" I breathe, wishing I had seen Ryan just a moment or two longer. "He was just here talking to me. Now-now he's gone and-and-" Olivera's fierce exterior seems to fall ever so slightly. He looks to one of his warriors. "Who spiked her wine with the wolfsbane?"

"Thomason did, Alpha."

"How much did he put in her drink?"

There's a brief hesitation before I hear someone speak from across the room, "Seven, maybe eight drops. Enough to fill the glass dropper to the base."

Olivera stands erect, his fists now trembling at his hips. "Are you serious?"

"Yes-yes, Alpha."

"She is only capable of two drops a night, dammit, what were you all thinking?" Olivera is snarling now, his voice tainted with his growling wolf, the noise so throaty and raucous that I have to blink to make sure he hasn't shifted yet. Thankfully he hasn't. "She drank that whole glass of wine without anything to eat the day before. Are you trying to kill my captive?!" "No, Alpha," a few warriors reply in hasty unison.

"Scatter, now, all of you!"

I hear the room clear in a stampede, the only bull left being Olivera. He mumbles a few profanities to himself before returning his light eyes to me, any spec of anger gone now, thankfully. He reaches into the cabinet and pulls me forward, letting me hit the tile and curl into a ball at his feet.

He wears a simple tee-shirt now, loose pants meant for sleep and a set of shoes I assume he threw on to run after me with when he noticed I had left the bedroom. I can't even recall how far away I made it from the bedroom but I don't think I'll have to worry about the trek getting back to it.

He grabs for me, holding me to his chest, his body so hot in temperature that I replace myself curling into his warmth in hopes it will smother me. He releases a strangled sigh of exasperation, his arms twisted over and under my body, waltzing down the hall where I am met with the soft cloud of his bed under my back.

My stomach drops, seeing him reach for the chains.

He sets them over the headboard, away from me, and it makes my heart patter to an end.

He looks aside, tossing a set of blankets over me in my nightgown, before pacing to the couch at the foot of the bed, facing me, and leaning back like he intends to watch me throughout the night. I could fake it again, run when he falls asleep, but I'm far too exhausted to further fight the urge to pass out.

Wherever my mate is, I dream he is in front of me no matter the truth.