Chapter 4
I sat in the VIP box, as Anders leaned in with that familiar smile.
He bent to adjust my shawl, warm breath tickling my ear: "Cold?"
I shook my head, but a sudden cramp seized my abdomen, as if a hand were twisting my insides. Anders noticed at once, fingertips pressing my waist: "Is it your moon cycle?"
Warmth pooled beneath me, heating my cheeks. I nodded.
Without a word, he pressed his palm to my stomach, massaging gently, voice thick with apology: "Does it hurt badly? Should we leave?"
I bit my lip, shaking my head.
When he couldn't persuade me, he called his beta for supplies-pads, heat packs.
All the while, his focus never wavered: asking if I wanted hot water, if my blanket was warm enough.
Half an hour later, a figure approached quietly: "Alpha Anders, the items."
We both turned-Caroline Chastain stood there, clutching a paper bag.
Her hair clung wet to her cheeks, paler than in the hospital.
Anders' face darkened: "You just recovered. Who told you to come.I called Beta"
Caroline worried her lip, voice tiny: "beta was in a pack meeting. I feared Miss Lagerfelt's pain... and that you'd wait too long."
She held out the bag, adding softly, "It's pouring. I forgot an umbrella."
Anders' expression shifted.
He took the bag, offering it to me: "Baby, I'll accompany you."
I took the bag and headed for the restroom.
When I emerged, Anders was gone.
As I turned to search, a faint sound came from the adjacent stall.
Peering through the crack ,
I saw Anders pin Caroline against the sink, kissing her wildly.
She pushed at his chest, half-resisting:
"Stop... Miss Lagerfelt is waiting..."
"Leave her," he rasped, gripping her chin.
"Running in this storm-trying to break my heart?"
"I just didn't want her to suffer... You hurt when she hurts, don't you?"
Caroline's voice cracked.
"I only want you happy..."
Anders seemed to soften, kissing her harder.
She gave a low moan.
He laughed, tone eerily gentle: "Feeling it now?"
Caroline blushed scarlet, shoving his shoulders:
"Go back to her. I can-"
"Can what?" His fingers trailed to her waist, playful.
"This needs a man's touch."
Fabric rustled; her breath hitched.
His voice dropped to a purr: "Good girl, relax..."
I stood outside, stomach heaving, heart split by a dull blade.
I remembered our first, him trembling under fireworks: "Jessica, may I?"
His lips had been as light as feathers.
I remembered our first night, his hands shaking with restraint, asking "Does it hurt?" until I nodded.
He'd held me all night, swearing "Only you, forever."
Now, those same hands-once used to soothe my cramps, to pluck my kite from trees-pleasured another she-wolf.
Anders Trier, how perfectly you've deceived me!
Cramping and heartache merged.
I staggered back, smashing the flower vase.
The crash silenced the restroom.
"Who's there?"
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