CHAPTER 10: The Shared Table

Earlene

I stared at him. I wanted to look shocked. I wanted to look intimidated by the fact that the Alpha of the North had just enter my room for the first time. But the initial surprise quickly melted into a hot irritation.

I looked at his dark leather armor, his broad shoulders, and the lethal, predatory grace he carried in every single movement. Then, my eyes dropped to the ceramic plate he was holding in his large hand.

He looked completely out of place. He was a ruthless warlord who commanded armies and conquered nations, yet here he was, carrying a steaming dinner plate of roasted beef and potatoes like a common tavern servant.

He set the plate down on the small wooden table in front of me.

"Jane said you were being stubborn," he muttered. His voice was a low, even rumble. He did not sound angry, just deeply annoyed that he had to deal with this.

"I am not being stubborn," I fired back, refusing to shrink back into my chair. "I am asking for basic decency. I told her I would not eat another meal alone."

"So you decided to starve yourself," he replied, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "That is not bravery, Earlene. That is stupidity."

"Why aren't we eating together?" I demanded, ignoring his insult. My voice rose, bouncing off the quiet walls of the chamber. "If we are supposed to be mates, why am I eating alone in a room? Why are you hiding me in this wing like a dirty secret?"

His expression remained perfectly flat. "I am not hiding you, Earlene. I am busy."

"You are avoiding me," I challenged.

"I do not avoid anyone," he countered, his tone dropping a dangerous octave. "My schedule is erratic. I run a massive territory that is currently dealing with feral border breaches. I eat when I have time, and I sleep when I have time. My hours are not dictated by a dining room table."

"That is an excuse," I said, shaking my head. "You make the rules here. If you wanted to eat with me, you would. But you refuse to even acknowledge the bond you claimed in front of my father. You are treating me like a prisoner."

Thorne’s jaw tightened. A small, hard muscle jumped in his cheek. He stared at me for a long moment and the silence in the room stretched until the air felt too thick to breathe.

I thought he was going to yell. I thought he was going to unleash that crushing, suffocating aura and force me to my knees for daring to question him.

Instead, he reached out and grabbed the back of the small wooden chair sitting opposite mine.

He pulled it out, the wood scraping loudly against the stone floor. He sat down, his massive frame completely dwarfing the delicate furniture. He crossed his large arms over his broad chest and stretched his long legs out beneath the table.

"I am sitting now," he stated plainly. His dark, unreadable gaze fixed entirely on my face. "Now eat."

I looked at him in disbelief. "Are you not going to eat?"

"I have already eaten," he said. "I will not leave this chair until your plate is empty. Pick up your fork, Earlene."

I swallowed hard. This was not the victory I had wanted. I had wanted him to admit he was avoiding me. I had wanted a conversation. Instead, I had backed him into a corner, and now I was trapped in a staring contest with a predator.

I reached out and picked up the silver fork. My hand trembled slightly, but I forced my grip to remain steady. I cut a small piece of the roasted meat and brought it to my mouth.

The food tasted like ash on my tongue. The tension in the room was absolutely suffocating.

I took another bite, chewing slowly. Every single time I lifted my fork, every time I shifted in my seat, I felt the heavy weight of his eyes on my skin.

He did not look at the roaring fire. He did not look at the snow falling outside the window. He looked only at me.

It wasn't the look of a guard watching a prisoner. It was something entirely different. It was dark, primal, and intensely focused.

His gaze tracked the movement of my throat as I swallowed. He watched every one of my movements and it made the fine hairs on my arms stand up.

My skin prickled with a sudden, undeniable heat. I felt like prey sitting in the middle of a clearing, trying to act completely normal while a lethal beast watched my every move from the shadows.

"Is the food not to your liking?" he asked softly, breaking the long silence.

"It is fine," I lied, forcing another piece of potato down my tight throat.

"You are shaking," he noted calmly.

"It is cold by the window," I deflected, refusing to meet his eyes. I kept my focus stubbornly on the plate.

He didn't argue with my lie. He just continued to watch me. I forced myself to finish the meal.

It took me nearly twenty minutes, and Thorne did not move a single muscle the entire time. He simply sat there in the heavy silence, breathing slowly, trapping me in his unwavering focus.

Finally, I placed my fork down on the empty plate.

"I am finished," I said quietly.

Thorne uncrossed his arms and stood up. The sudden movement made me tense, my breath catching in my throat.

I expected him to turn around and walk straight out the door. He had fulfilled his promise. I had eaten, and he was free to leave.

But he didn't turn toward the door.

Instead, he took a step around the small wooden table. He stepped directly beside my chair.

I froze, my hands gripping the edge of the table.

Thorne leaned forward. He placed one large, leather-clad hand on the back of my chair, caging me in. He leaned down so far that his face came right beside mine.

I stopped breathing entirely. I went completely still. He had never been this close to me. I could feel the intense heat radiating from his broad chest. He was so close that when he exhaled, his warm breath brushed directly against the sensitive skin of my neck.

My heart slammed against my ribs in a frantic, desperate rhythm. My analytical mind completely short-circuited. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if he was going to hurt me or if he was trying to intimidate me again.

Thorne stayed there for a long, agonizing second, simply breathing against my skin.

"The scent of the South is finally fading from your skin," he said softly.

His voice was a dark, low whisper that vibrated right into my bones.

I froze, my hand hovering inches above the table. The sudden realization hit me like a blow. He wasn't just watching me eat. He was smelling me.

He had been intimately paying attention to how I smelled since the day he took me. The thought that this cold, distant warlord was secretly memorizing my scent terrified me more than his anger ever could.

I lowered my hand slowly, unable to speak.

Thorne did not wait for a response. He straightened up and walked across the room. He didn't look back. He opened the door and stepped out into the dark corridor.

The door clicked shut.

I sat alone in the chair, my chest heaving as I desperately tried to pull oxygen back into my lungs.

As the fire crackled in the hearth, the silence in the chamber suddenly felt much heavier than before. And my heart raced wildly in the quiet room.