Ruthless Alpha, and his Curvy Saint-Chapter 34

Terrell’s POV

I needed to find Angel.

The need was almost physical - a pull in my chest that wouldn’t let me rest until I saw her, spoke to her, tried to fix the misunderstanding between us.

I found her standing in the clearing near where the tents were being erected, her posture stiff and uncomfortable as she watched Lyra work.

The girl was setting up Angel’s tent with exaggerated care, clearly trying to prove her worth as a servant. Every time Angel moved to help - reaching for a stake or trying to hold a corner of fabric - Lyra practically swatted her hands away.

"No, no, Luna! I’ve got it! Please, you shouldn’t have to do this!"

Even from a distance, I could see how much the attention made Angel squirm. She wasn’t used to being served. Wasn’t comfortable with someone fawning over her.

It was the perfect time to talk to her.

I approached slowly, giving her time to notice me coming. "Angel? Can we talk?"

She didn’t look at me. "I’m not interested."

"Please. I really need to speak with you."

From the corner of my eye, I caught Lyra shooting me accusatory looks - like I was some predator circling her precious Luna, or because of what happened at the waterfall. The irony would have been funny if it wasn’t so frustrating.

Angel must have noticed the looks too, because she finally sighed. "Fine. But make it quick."

Relief flooded through me. "Thank you."

We walked away from camp, away from prying eyes and listening ears, until we found a small clearing surrounded by trees. The moonlight filtered through the branches overhead, casting dappled shadows across the grass.

I gestured for her to sit on a fallen log. After a moment’s hesitation, she did.

I sat beside her, and tried to figure out where to start.

"Have you eaten?" I asked finally.

"No."

"Why not?"

She didn’t answer, just stared at her hands in her lap.

"Wait here," I said, standing. "I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere."

She gave a tiny nod, and I took it as permission.

I hurried back to where my generals had set up our corner of camp - the area reserved for leadership, where the best food was always set aside. A fire burned low, and beside it sat the meal that had been prepared for me: dried meat roasted to perfection with herbs and spices, fresh fruits and a small portion of honey bread.

Food fit for an Alpha.

I grabbed the plate and turned to leave.

"Where are you taking that?" Gareth asked, eyebrow raised.

"None of your business," I grumbled.

Kade snorted. "Let me guess. Your ’friend’ Angel needs to eat?"

"I said it’s none of your business."

"Oh, it’s definitely her," Bellick said, his scarred face cracking into something resembling a smile. "Look at him. He’s practically glowing."

"I don’t glow," I snapped.

"You’re right," Kade agreed, grinning. "You’re radiating. Much more accurate."

Their quiet laughter followed me as I walked away, my dignity in tatters but the food secure in my hands.

Angel was still there when I returned, exactly where I’d left her. Relief filled my chest.

She’d waited.

"Here," I said, offering her the plate. "Eat this."

She looked at the food, then up at me, her expression unreadable. "I’m not hungry."

"Angel..."

"I said I’m not hungry."

"You need to eat," I insisted, kneeling in front of her so we were eye level. "You need your strength for the remaining journey ahead. You’ve been through hell the past few days, and your body needs..."

"What’s your real reason for giving me this food?"

The question caught me off guard. "What?"

"Your real reason." Her blue eyes fixed on mine, searching. "Why are you so insistent that I eat?"

"Because I want you to be healthy. To be strong. To..."

"No." She stood abruptly, cutting me off. "You’re giving me this food because you want me to stay fat. You don’t want me to lose weight."

The accusation hit like a slap.

"What? No! Angel, I didn’t even think..."

"Stop lying."

"I’m not lying!" I stood too, the plate still in my hands. "I genuinely just wanted you to eat. That’s all."

"Then answer me one question." Her voice had gone quiet, dangerous. "Do you want me to lose weight or not?"

"You’re misunderstanding..."

"Answer the question, Uriel." She crossed her arms over her chest, her jaw set with determination. "It’s simple. Yes or no. Do you want me to lose weight?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried to find words that wouldn’t hurt her but wouldn’t be a lie.

"Should I lose weight or not?" she repeated, each word sharp as a knife.

I sighed, the fight draining out of me. "No. I don’t want you to lose weight."

The hurt that flashed across her face was so painful to look at.

Without another word, she turned and walked away, her shoulders rigid, her steps quick and angry.

"Angel, wait..."

But she was already disappearing into the shadows, leaving me standing there like an idiot with a plate of food in my hands.

Dammit.

I’d handled that terribly. Should have lied. Should have said yes, of course she should lose weight if that’s what she wanted, should have...

Footsteps.

I looked up, hope flaring in my chest.

Angel was coming back.

"Angel, I..."

She marched straight up to me, snatched the plate of food from my hands without a word, and stormed off again.

This time, she didn’t look back.

I stood there in the empty clearing, my hands still raised in the position they’d been holding the plate, watching her retreating form.

"Well," I muttered to myself. "That went well."

*******

Angel’s POV

Bastard. Lying, manipulative bastard.

I marched back toward camp, the plate of food still in my hands, fury and hurt warring for dominance in my chest.

He didn’t want me to lose weight.

Of course he didn’t.

Because then I might actually be attractive. Might actually be the kind of woman he’d have to acknowledge as desirable instead of just tolerating out of some misguided sense of duty or friendship or whatever this was.

He wanted to keep me fat and ugly so he wouldn’t have to feel guilty about preferring girls like Lyra.

The logic made perfect sense in my angry, hurt brain.

Well, fine. I’ll eat his stupid food. And then I’ll lose the weight anyway, without his permission or Sheena’s herbs. I’ll find my own way.

I reached my tent - now fully erected, thanks to Lyra’s efforts - and pushed through the flap.

The interior was small but comfortable. A bedroll had been laid out, along with a blanket and a small lantern that cast flickering shadows on the canvas walls.

I sat down heavily on the bedroll and looked at the plate in my hands.

The food looked incredible. Roasted meat that still glistened with juices and herbs. Fresh fruit - actual fresh fruit, not the dried, shriveled pieces I’d seen the other warriors eating. Even a small piece of bread drizzled with honey.

This was Alpha-quality food. The best of the best.

And Uriel had given it to me without a second thought.

Don’t read into it. He’s just trying to keep you fat.

But even as I thought it, doubt crept in. The way he’d looked at me when he’d offered the plate. The genuine concern in his voice when he’d asked if I’d eaten.

That hadn’t seemed manipulative.

That had seemed... caring.

Stop it. Stop making excuses for him.

I bit into the meat, and flavor exploded across my tongue. It was perfectly seasoned, tender, delicious in a way that made my empty stomach growl with appreciation.

When was the last time I’d eaten something this good? Before the convent, probably. Back when my mother still cooked family meals and I’d sit at the table with my parents and Agnes, laughing and talking about nothing important.

Before everything went to hell.

I ate slowly, unconsciously enjoying the food, my mind too full of conflicting thoughts at the same time.

Uriel had defended me tonight. Had sent away the travelers - risked the Alpha’s wrath - because Lyra had hurt me.

But he’d also spent all day riding with those same travelers, laughing with them, making it clear what kind of woman he actually enjoyed spending time with.

He’d given me his best food but told me he didn’t want me to lose weight.

What was I supposed to make of that?

I reached for a piece of fruit, absently biting into it.

Something slithered against my leg.

I froze, every muscle in my body going rigid.

At first, I thought I’d imagined it. My mind playing tricks in the darkness and exhaustion.

Then I felt it again. Something smooth and cool, winding its way up my calf with deliberate, sinuous movement.

I looked down.

The lantern light caught scales. A triangular head. A forked tongue tasting the air.

A snake.

A snake was coiling around my leg.

The scream that tore from my throat was primal, terrified, inhuman.

I threw the plate away from me - food scattering across the tent floor - and tried to scramble backward, but the snake’s coils tightened, holding me in place.

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP!"

My hands scrabbled at my leg, trying to grab the creature, to pull it off, but my fingers kept slipping on the smooth scales.

"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF ME!"