Chapter 8 Jealousy

Jasmine

“You want a free three-minute phone call to your mom? Then start sucking my dick.”

“I’m not your whore, asshole.” Ashamed of my behavior, I turn my back on him as I lie in bed. All the things I’ve done for the last twenty-four hours come flashing back to mock me.

Happy now, bitch?

“Of course you’re not, but don’t plan on escaping, because if you run, I will chase you, and there’s no place in this world where you can hide from me. If you want to see the people you love alive again, don’t run.”

Terrified and exhausted, I close my eyes.

I wake up to an empty bed, no signs of Alek in the bathroom either.

When I check the door, it’s obviously locked from the outside.

I thought that after what we shared last night, he would allow me to walk around the house. I’m wrong to think that sex can solve my problem.

I’m still a prisoner of a mafia boss, a captive in his house.

After using the bathroom, I wait in bed until I grow tired. So I go back to the door to knock, hoping someone can hear me.

A few minutes later, I hear someone try to unlock the door from the outside and hope it’s Alek. To my surprise, it’s not him.

“I’m Mirom.” The man towers over me. He’s taller and bulkier than Alek, like he can pick me up with his finger.

I meet his gaze. “Hi. I’m Jasmine. Can I ask where your boss is?”

I wish I were a full-blown werewolf so that I could sniff if he’s a werewolf or something else. I don’t even have enhanced senses. I’m just a normal human, even though my parents are werewolves.

“He’s not here.” I realize his accent is thicker than Alek’s, which sometimes I can barely pick that he’s Russian unless he’s angry. His emotions bring out where he comes from. “He went to see his girlfriend. He’s not coming back in three days.” Did he just say girlfriend?

“Oh.” I swallow the bile rising in my throat. My stomach feels tight, something familiar and uncomfortable like jealousy roiling my insides.

I’ve known Liam for years. He’s six years older than me, so I’ve seen him date a lot of women during high school and college days, and I know what jealousy means.

“Do you need anything?”

“I want to get out of this room. At least let me walk around.”

“No. His order.” He drawls out the letter R.

“So, I’m gonna be locked up in his room for three days until he comes back?” I blink at him as I try to hide my discomfort.

“Yes, unless he changes his mind and calls me.”

“Great.” There’s no point in arguing with a man who’s loyal to their boss. “Then where can I get a bedsheet?”

“He said not to change the sheet until he comes back.” That asshole is clearly punishing me.

“You’re kidding, right?” I stare at him in disbelief.

“No, miss.”

My anxiety and anger grow. What am I going to do in three days? Wait for his return and spread my legs for him when he comes back after he fucks his girlfriend? No. That’s not going to happen.

“Do you need anything else?”

“I’m not allowed to use a phone, then by all means, get the hell out of my face. And don’t bring food.” I grab the doorknob and slam it right in his face.

“Bastard! Liar!” I go back to bed and look around.

Maybe if I burn this room, they’ll force me to get out, but if I interrupt Alek’s dates with his girlfriend, then he’d be furious and throw me back to the underground prison.

Instantly, I feel like the room gets smaller, and the walls are moving closer to me as claustrophobia hits me so fast.

I pull my legs together against my knees as I cover my ears and scream. Tears quickly blur my vision, overflowing in my eyes. There’s just something inside me that feels like it’s restraining me from being me, something that I can’t fully explain or understand.

Maybe this is why I’m still wolfless. I wish someone were willing to help me find my true self, but definitely not the mafia alpha.

The next day, I still refused to eat. I made a point with Mirom yesterday that I wouldn’t eat until he allowed me to go out and stretch myself, and he denied me.

By the afternoon, I’m so hungry, and I only drink water. By the time the dinner arrives in the room, I stand up and grab the water since they don’t serve me wine, and push it back to him.

“Take it.”

“You’re gonna be sick if you don’t eat.”

“Why do you care? Your boss will be glad to come and see me as a corpse.” I crawl back to bed and slip inside the duvet that smells of Alek. 

Everywhere reminds me of him. I’ve only met him a few days ago, but it feels like I've known him for years.

It’s crazy how I miss that asshole when he’s clearly having fun with his girlfriend. I bet she’s sexy, tall, blonde, maybe a model with a lot of enhancements, the type of woman a guy like him prefers.

This is so weird, liking the man who holds me against my will. I feel like I’m turning into one of the victims of Stockholm syndrome.

When I wake up early in the morning on the third day of my hunger strike, I feel so hungry and dizzy. I think I’m lacking sugar, but maybe if I collapse, how would someone from the outside know if I collapse?

I stand up, and my world starts spinning. Luckily, I managed to use the bathroom without falling. I brush my teeth and wash my face. I change the clothes that I wore for two days to his t-shirt and boxers, even though Mirom had brought some clothes from the other room here.

By the time I walk out of the walk-in closet, I feel so dizzy and start seeing black spots. I’m sweating despite the cold room. Before I fall, someone catches me with a scent of cedarwood, citrus, and musk— an expensive male cologne.

“Jasmine, can you hear me?” I feel a callous, large hand cupping my face, and a back of hand pressing against my forehead, like my mom used to do when I felt sick to check if I had a fever or not.

When I was a kid, I got sick a lot. I’m so fragile, unlike most pups my age.

“Jasmine, open your eyes for me, please?” The voice— it’s the asshole mafia alpha’s voice. He’s back, and he shows me as if he cares, but he clearly does not. He just doesn’t want to deal with my body if I die. “Just call a pack doctor.”

“Right away, sir.”

“No.” I open my dry mouth and lick it. “I’m fine.”

From lying on the bed, I’m quickly lifted and scooped and find myself pressed against a hard, muscular body. His intoxicating scent somehow calms me and makes me a little better. Before I even know it, I’m already resting my head on his chest, listening to his erratic heartbeat.

What the hell is this twisted game he’s playing? I just find it hard to resist.

“She hasn’t eaten since you left, boss?”

“For three fucking days?” His voice is like thunder rumbling in the room. “Then why the fuck am I just hearing it now? Why didn’t you fucking call? Bring her something to eat. Fresh juice. She may have low blood sugar right now. Go!”

As the door shut seconds later, I felt his lips on my forehead.

“Why did you refuse to eat, Jasmine?” There’s a worry in his voice, mixed with restrained anger.

“Put me back to bed.”

“No. Look at me. I need an answer.”

The most handsome face of Alek Voyslav swims in front of my eyes. Those beautiful, cold eyes stared at me, filled with anger and worry.

“You locked me up here for three days while you were having a good time with your girlfriend. Why didn’t you just put me back underground like a rat if that’s how you were going to treat me after fucking me?”