Alpha King’s Wolfless Mate by Scarlett Higgins

Chapter 8 Blake was impossible to live with. He was so secretive and he lost his temper every time he was around long enough to have a conversation with me. He demanded so much. Not only did he have Charles teaching me the harp but he was teaching me proper etiquette in high society. That included ballroom dancing, fine dining etiquette, greetings, and how to sit, stand, and even appropriate conversation. It was daunting because I didn’t understand half of it. Charles was patient, as ever, but it was hard for me to make sense of it when I didn’t know what the point was. “Charles, why do I have to know which fork is the salad fork and which spoon is the desert spoon?” I groaned, setting the utensils down. “In a fine dining setting, you need to know what the different utensils are to portray the appropriate appearance,” he explained. My eyelids twitched. If Clara was here, she’s probably already roaring. “That’s not what I mean. I don’t see any “fine dining” venues around here.” I pointed out. Charles chuckled gravelly, chortling in the back of his throat. “There are many things that Master Blake has asked me to teach you. I am not privy to the details. You’ll have to discuss them with him.” he told me. It was the same answer that he always gave me. Absently. I touched the spot on my n*eck that Blake had bit. It wasn’t a marking bite, like for mates. It was just a dominance bite. The scab was still there, reminding me of what he’d done. “The last time I tried that it didn’t go so well.” I whispered. I touched my l*ps next, thinking of the way he’d k*ssed me. It had been totally unexpected. I had tried not to think about the way my stomach had dropped into my feet at that k*ss. It had happened so fast that I hadn’t really had time to react. When Charles and I were done for the day. I went to my bedroom. It was down the hall from where Blake slept. His was the one room that I hadn’t looked in yet, because the door was always closed. We weren’t husband and wife. We didn’t act like a couple at all. We slept in separate rooms, spent the majority of our time apart. barely spoke, or even made eye contact. I knew that our arrangement was purely based on the contract we’d made with each other. There wasn’t supposed to be a romantic component. At the same time. Blake had gotten what he needed out of this and I hadn’t gotten anything. I was mostly trapped in a house being forced to learn things without any clue as to why. He had promised he’d help me find out what happened to Clara and how to get her back. He hadn’t even brought it up since we’d gone through with the marriage. Clara, where were you? As I lay on my bed and held my wrist where Jeremy’s bracelet used to be, I wondered what I’d gotten myself into. Maybe I’d been hasty in accepting Blake’s proposal. It wouldn’t be easy to get away from him. I’d have to force him to let his guard down. He was so paranoid and already kept a tight grip on me. I’d have to pretend to be the doting wife, doing as he asked until I could get him to sl*p. Then, when he wasn’t expecting it, I’d break free and run from him. Charles met with me the next morning. He had a crank phonograph with a classical music record on it. The music echoed through the house as I came down the stairs after Blake left. 1 yawned and went into the room where Charles kept the harp and piano. Charles was turning the crank, winding up the ancient machine. The music was beautiful but the record crackled from age. “What’s all this for?” I asked. I leaned against the doorframe and watched as Charles took up a dancing position.. “Come here,” Charles said, beckoning me. “Can’t I get breakfast first?” I asked. “Dance now. Then you can get breakfast,” he said. I sighed and pushed off the doorframe. Now I’d have to dance for my breakfast. I worked really hard to learn the dance steps until I thought I’d pass out from hunger. We’d gone over the dance several times. I was surprised to find that the steps were coming easier to me, now, Maybe I was starting to learn. When the record stopped playing, Charles brought me to the kitchen and started fixing me breakfast.. “You’re not complaining as much this morning,” Charles pointed out. “I was thinking that I was getting better at dancing.” I said, testing the waters. I needed an excuse to get Blake alone for a while, to start breaking down his guard. “You’re definitely improving.” Charles agreed, serving up some eggs and bacon for me. He set the plate in front of me. “Am I improving enough to show Blake?” I asked, grinning at Charles. “Hmm. I’m sure he’d be interested to see your progress. I’ll set it up for this evening,” he said. “Thanks,” I smiled with a nod. I spent the rest of the day practicing my other skills really hard. I worked on fine dining and playing a few easy songs on the harp. I knew I hadn’t mastered anything but I was ready to show Blake a few things. When Blake got home that night, I was waiting for him. I dressed in one of my new, nicer outfits. “You look… nice,” Blake said, his voice hitching with suspicion as he eyed me. “You’ve been demanding I learn so many proper skills, I thought I’d look the part while I showed you what I’ve been working on.” I said. “I’ve got some time,” Blake said, nodding. He followed me into the music room. I sat at the harp and waited for Blake to get comfortable on one of the couches. He looked at me expectantly. I cleared my throat and I put my fingers on the strings. “I’ve only played in front of Charles before, so don’t judge me too hard,” I said. My cheeks warmed when his eyes lit up. “I make no promises, he teased with a little smirk.

My stomach fluttered as I remembered his l*ps on mine again. I focused on the harp and took a deep breath before I began to play. That every note I meant to but my timing was a little off in a few places. At least, it sounded like I’d been practicing. “Not bad.” Blake said when I stood up and bowed. He clapped lightly, mocking me.. “Tve also learned to dance. Do you want to see?” I asked. I held a hand out to him. Again, Blake eyed me suspiciously. He really was paranoid and constantly on guard. Slowly, he rose from the couch and took my hand. We stood close together in a proper dancing position. Blake led, as he was supposed to, and I followed along with his steps I missed a couple, nearly tripping us both up Each time, Blake scoffed and smirked, like he was expecting me to falter. I just shook my head and kept going. I tried to focus on counting my steps and not his hands on me. It wasn’t supposed to be intimate but his touch was like molten lava on my skin and I had to close my eyes to block it out. “Charles said you’ve been improving,” he told me when we stepped away from each other. I took a couple of extra steps back to put more distance between us. It was nice that we had been in the same room together for over an hour without arguing. My plan was working. “This is good,” Blake muttered. “When we’re back, you’ll fool the others.” “When we’re back?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. Blake looked at me blankly, like he’d forgotten I was there. His l*ps curved down in a frown and a deep crease formed in his brow. I saw a patch of crimson soaking into his shirt. “Blake, you’re hurt!” I gasped, pointing to the fresh blood stain. Blake blinked at me and then looked at the blood on his shirt. “It’s nothing. I’m fine,” he said, waving off my concern. “You’re bleeding.” I said. If I really wanted Blake to let his guard down, I had to get him to trust me. “Let me take care of that.” “I don’t need you looking after me,” he argued. He tried to turn away from me but I grabbed the hem of his shirt. I pulled it up enough to see his wound. There was a deep ga sh in his abdomen and the skin around it was purple and bruised. I saw a lot of other cuts too. Some were scabbed over and some had already turned to scars. “This looks bad. Please, let me take care of it?” I frowned. He snorted, grabbing my hands. I didn’t release his shirt and he didn’t push me away. I looked into his eyes. His snarl softened and his face relaxed. “I’m supposed to be your wife. At least let me look after you when you’re injured,” holding his gaze, I was losing my patience. He covered his teeth with his l*ps, pressing them together. “Fine,” he muttered. “Take your shirt off and sit down. I’ll get the first aid kit,” I ordered. Blake went to the couch. As I left the room. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him taking his shirt off. He had his back to me. It bulged with muscle and I saw some fresh scratches and old scars. I bit my l*p and scurried out before he caught me staring at him. What was he doing every day to get so many cuts and wounds? He had years’ worth of scars all over his b*dy. He must have lived a very painful, tragic life to have so many scars. Whatever he was facing, it wasn’t over. He was still getting injured. I found the first aid kit in the kitchen and headed back to Blake. He was on the couch, with his shirt off. I knelt on the floor and got an antiseptic pad to clean the wound and keep it from getting infected. Blake hissed and his muscles tensed when the cleaning pad touched the open wound. “Sorry,” I whispered. I cleaned the wound with one hand. With the other, I touched one of his other cuts, then traced along an old scar. When I realized what I was doing. I pulled my hand away, my cheeks heating. I glanced shyly at Blake’s face and found that he was looking at me with a slightly relaxed expression. Had I already succeeded in chipping through his guard? “You have a lot of old wounds,” I commented. “It is the current ones that bother me,” he muttered. After I cleaned his cut, I found a bandage and I started taping it in place. I wanted to say something to make him feel better. It was the first time I felt he was opening up to me like I was scratching the surface of him, and I was going to use it against him. I said the first thing that popped into my mind. “You know, if you make a wish on a fresh wound, it’ll heal faster,” I said. Blake snorted. Our eyes met again and he had a slight smile on his l*ps. I quickly grabbed another alcohol wipe and got to work on the smaller scrapes and cuts. Carefully. Meticulously. As if my heart didn’t beat so fast suddenly.