His Promise

(Alina's POV)

The warm light coming through the window seemed to scald my skin. My body hurt, but my heart was an even further ache.

I lay staring at the ceiling and tried to put together pieces of my life that I was picking up in shards. Every breath I took reminded me of how weak I was, how powerless I would always be. My throat pulsed in pain with every intake of air, a sharp, relentless reminder that even my voice, my only way to scream out my agony-was gone.

My parents…

Their struggles flashed in my mind then, the stifled screams, the pack's jeers, the sadistic laughter that had haunted me as I had crawled on my knees in supplication. I clutched at my chest as if that would hold it inside, keep it from bursting free, but it wouldn't. It never did.

I had sworn vengeance, hadn't I? I had promised to destroy them all. But now, I couldn't form the words to repeat that promise.

Tears slipped hot and uncontrolled down my cheeks. Mom and Dad gone, my pack gone-everything I'd ever known, ripped from me. I should have died in that forest. Maybe that would have been better, at least that way.

But instead, it was here.

It was he who saved me, and he was cold, with glass-cutting eyes, and his overwhelming aura seemed to shut my chest tight with his presence alone.

Mate?

I laughed cynically, but no noise was able to pass through. The motion caught in my throat, and I winced, grasping at my neck. The very thought was impossible. It had to be. Marcus, the only mate I'd ever known, had rejected me just yesterday. And this. this stranger was claiming me as his?

I clenched my fists.

But none of that mattered anymore, and I knew that. What I needed was finding a way to get this settled, get back at whatever had done this to Mom and Dad. No matter how much my screaming wanted me to break now, I couldn't afford to.

Sobs convulsed my body, and gasps of air escaped that I tried to hold off, shoving my face against the pillow, pressing hard enough that it muffled them.

I was lost in thought, consumed in the overwhelming wave of grief, that I didn't even hear the door open.

A soft knock pulled me from the haze and I turned my head in surprise to him there.

He had been the presence that commanded a room. Sharp and chiseled to perfection, he was something that ought to be relegated to the shadows. sharp and chiseled to perfection, his grey-silver eyes piercing, impossibly cold.

Tall and imposing, but something in the way he was standing now-reluctant, almost cautious-completely threw me off.

"Good," he said, his voice low even. "You're awake."

I sat up cautiously, wincing at the harsh ache in my ribs. His gaze flickered to my throat, and I saw something shift in his expression, something that almost looked like regret.

"Don't push yourself," he said, stepping closer.

Instinctively I recoiled, and he froze, working his jaw as if he were angry.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly.

And for reasons that escaped me, I knew he wouldn't.

He drew closer a chair and sat down-eyes that fired off a racing in my heart-regarding me. "You have been through hell," he said, in a quietened voice. "But you are safe here. No one will hurt you again."

Safe.

That word felt foreign almost; where it was not laughable. What was I to be safe from where all I'd ever loved was gone?

He caught the doubt in my eyes, it seemed. "I mean it," he said, his eyes locking onto mine. "I'll protect you. No one will touch you, not while I'm here."

Something in the shadows of those eyes stirred an ember in me, one I didn't want to come alight.

Then he did the very last thing in the world I would have expected.

He leaned forward, brushing a stray tear from my cheek with a tenderness that sent a shiver down my spine. "I'll make this right," he murmured. "Whatever it takes."

I stared, rendered speechless as his lips came into contact with my forehead.

My heart stuttered in my chest.

Why was he doing this? Why did he sound so sincere?

"I need to know your name," he said suddenly, jerking back to see me. "I really can't continue to think of you as her in my mind."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook and pen, holding them out to me. "Here, write it down."

 

I took them with shaking hands, the pen felt foreign in my grasp. I slowly wrote my name: Alina.

 

He pulled the notebook toward him, his silver-gray eyes scanning the page. "Alina," he said, the word low. He said it once more, to savor the name. "Alina."

The sound of my name in his mouth caught my breath in my chest.

 

He set the notebook aside then rose, going to a tray on the bedside table. "You need to eat," he said, the voice firm, brooking no argument.

I wanted to refuse, I wasn't hungry, but he was already reaching for a bowl of soup and a spoon.

 

"Open," he said, holding the spoon toward me.

I hedged, but something in his eyes told me he wasn't going to take no for an answer. So I took a small sip, the heat of the soup feeling strange on my throat yet somehow reassuring in a way that I did not quite anticipate.

"Good," he said. the anger gone, his voice softer now.

I did a couple more before I shook my head, full. He didn't press it, instead set the bowl aside and sat back down.

"My name is Kennedy," he said finally, eyes intense. "You'll be safe here, Alina. I promise you that."

 

His tone was firm, but in his voice lay something-quiet resolution that made me want to believe.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. In, caving in-my chest weighed heavy and I turned away, ashamed.

Kennedy reached forward, softening. "We'll fix this," he whispered. "You will speak again, Alina. I will find a way.”

 

I wanted to believe him, but the fear and doubt were chipping at me. After everything that had been torn from me, how could anything ever be fixed?

"Why did they come after you?" he asked suddenly, his eyes sharp. "Who are you running from?"

The question hung heavy in the air, unanswered.

Shaking, I fought for words struggled to explain, and could only shake my head.

A flash danced across Kennedy's eyes, his wolf pained slightly in them. "You don't have to worry," he growled low, "Whoever they are they will regret ever laying hands on you."

It sent a shiver down my spine because of the intensity of the statement.

I couldn't tell what to make of this cold commanding man who'd somehow morphed into my protector. But as I watched him, something strange happened.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, there was hope.