The Alpha I Shouldn't Crave

Sloane Grayson’s POV

Hospitals didn't scare me anymore. 

Not when it had become a second home to me. The strong stench of copper, bleach and antiseptic filled the air, but it didn't make me nauseous just like the first time I had stepped foot into the hospital….that was a long time ago.

I sat on the cold exam table, my heart pounding vigorously in my chest but my expression remained calm on the surface, the fingers balled into a tight knot on my lap so hard my knuckles turned white. 

I stared at my reflection on the cabinet's glass, my gaze scanning my appearance….the dark circles that had formed under my eye due to sleepless nights, the way my cheeks sunk inside, my hair wet from being under the rain earlier. 

Today was the day I finally got the correct diagnosis of whatever was wrong with me….after more than twenty years of wrong diagnosis. 

I looked up, my gaze fixed on Dr. Harlan who stood a few feet away from home. He tilted his head up, those kind eyes staring at me pitifully. I saw as he exhaled deeply, then slowly shook his head. That made it worse, like the news he was about to give wasn't worth hearing. 

Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke up after what felt like an eternity of reading my test reports. “Miss Sloane….” His voice rang out, trying to sound professional but I could still hear the slight hint of sadness and emotion in it. “It's…. it's been concluded after a series of investigations…. it's moon sickness” 

I said nothing, just let the word linger in the sterile air, and at this moment, it felt heavier than the fluorescent light that hung above us. 

My stomach dropped to the pit as I finally spoke up, my voice low, barely above a whisper. “N…no” I shook my head, my voice cracked. 

“I'm sorry, Miss” he said again, scanning the test results once more. “The tests are all conclusive and no decision was made rashly. The sickness is already in its advanced stages. And your body has been holding up for so long….but unfortunately….” He paused, taking a deep breath. “It can't anymore. You have less than nine months to live” 

“Nine….nine months” I repeated with a sarcastic, painful scoff. 

Nine months left to live and endure the humiliation and shame of being the almighty Alpha's Broken daughter. I could still hear my father's voice loud and clear, deep in my head as he called me a defect, a failure, a disgrace. 

My fiancé’s voice followed next, how he called me defective as well and how he was doing me a favour by marrying me…all because my father had promised him a third of his assets. 

I wanted to drag my hair off my head in pain, to scream at the top of my lungs until I couldn't anymore, to rip down this building in shreds and break every vile of medicine that had once sustained me. But instead, I did the complete opposite. I just sat there, frozen, eyes wide open, my nails digging deep into my palm until it stung painfully. 

Just then, I felt a hand land softly on my shoulder and slowly looked up. It was Doctor Harlan. 

“I'm so sorry, dear” he muttered, this time, letting his emotions be obvious. 

I pursed my lips and nodded, but couldn't speak up due to the lump that had formed in my throat. At this moment, it felt as though my senses had all heightened, I could hear my heart beat, the clock ticking too loudly. And then, the world spun, like I was sliding deep into the dark…. one I didn't expect to happen too soon. 

Just then, Dr. Harlan’s voice boomed once again, breaking the silence. He excused himself to go get something and when he left, the room only grew more emptier and suffocating. 

I sat there, all one with no one to share my pain with. I pressed my hands to my face, fighting back the urge to burst out crying. “Goddess…..I don't want to die yet. Not like this” 

Just then, instead of a reply, I suddenly heard a sound. 

It wasn't the patter of rain against the hospital's ceiling l of the voices and movements of the staff…no. 

It was more than that, more like a heavy slam. 

I heard the hospital's doors burst open with such violence that literally made the ground shudder beneath me. Followed by loud, screaming voices and crashing of metals against the tiled, marble floor, then the heavy thud of something unnatural stepping inside. 

I swallowed hard and straightened up, my breath hitching. 

Then, closer to my room's door, I heard heavy, slow footsteps approaching, followed by a loud, guttural growl which literally vibrated through the thick, concrete walls of the hospital. 

My heart rate spiked, the hairs on my skin rising as a lump formed in my throat. 

Just then, screams echoed once again, followed by a loud shout down the hall. “Everyone clear the way immediately! Clear the…oh Goodness me! What's…. What's that…..” 

The voice cut came too quickly, then game that smell….it wasn't the usual antiseptic or bleach, no. Something even more darker and ancient, thick with the scent of blood and smoke. 

Almost immediately, the door to my room banged wide open, making me flinch in shock and a hint of fear. 

And then, a figure stepped in. 

Broad shouldered, tall, intimidating. His rain soaked coat was draped around his shoulders, his raven black, long hair sticking to his wet cheekbones, those golden eyes burning as thick blood poured from his left arm, splattering in the white marbled tiles. 

He had a deep, ugly cut that ran from his shoulder down to his elbow and around it were black spidered veins as though his flesh had been poisoned.

Behind him, chained and growling, came the creature. It ducked low to fit under the frame, its scales wet from rain, fur standing up like knives along its back. Its eyes glowed hot, its nose puffed out smoke, and every step of its claws screeched on the floor. 

The nurses ran away, one fell over a chair and crawled away on hands and knees, crying. A guard lay passed out in the hallway where he’d tried to stop him. 

The man didn’t slow down. He walked forward like he was in charge, like the world was his kingdom and we were all too scared to move. “Room. Now.” His voice boomed through the walls, strong and commanding. 

Dr. Harlan stumbled in after him, face pale. “M….my lord, we….we’ll get ready for surgery….” 

The man’s head tilted, eyes fierce. “Here.” One word. Final. Harlan obeyed, struggling with gloves, his hands shaking so hard he could barely put them on. The man held out his arm, blood dripping on the floor. “Silver blade. Mixed with poison.” His tone was calm, unconcerned. “It won’t heal.” 

I couldn’t look away. The poison made a hissing sound where it touched air, the skin around the cut was burned black, yet he stood firm, his gaze fixed….not on the doctor, not on the wound, but on me. 

“You…” The word slipped out before I could stop it. My voice shook. “You should have healed up by now.” 

The corner of his mouth curved up, cold and humorless. “Should I?”

The creature growled, smoke rising until the lights flickered, but one gesture from him made it quiet. The beast backed off, like a monster on a chain. Harlan cut through his sleeve, showing muscles cut with deep wounds. 

The smell of poison filled the room. My stomach turned, but I couldn’t look away. The doctor’s hands shook as he examined the wound, pulling out a sharp piece of silver. The man’s jaw clenched, veins bulging….but he didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound. 

“You’ll die if it spreads,” Harlan whispered. 

His eyes glowed hotter. “I don’t die.” 

But I saw it. The small catch in his breath. The shake in his fingers, the sign of death hanging over someone who shouldn’t have known it.

As Dr. Harlan stitched up the wound, it felt like an eternity, my hands trembling slightly in my lap, my breath coming in gasps with each pull of the needle with no anaesthesia administered to the man, my gaze still locked on him. 

And finally, when it was all finished, Dr. Harlan exhaled deeply, taking some steps back as he wiped off beads of sweat dripping from his face. “Fi….finished…my lord” 

I watched as the man nodded slightly, then he stood up for his full height, his monster standing up almost immediately like a protective shield. 

Then, his gaze shifted to me again. 

“Little wolf…” he snarled, those piercing eyes staring into mine. And for the first time, I got a much clearer view of his face and goddess….he was handsome, what you'll call a greek god, crafted on a special day. “You didn't scream, impressive” 

I missed a slight brow, finally speaking. “Did you expect me to?” 

I saw as the slightest, faintest smirk curled across his lips. “Everyone did” he snarled as he reached into his coat with his uninjured arm and then, he pulled out something…black, metallic, small and had a sharp edge. 

Then, he flicked his wrist and tossed it towards me, clattering against my chest before landing right into my laps. 

I stared at it. I picked it up with shaking fingers. The metal cut my skin, sharp enough to make me bleed. Silver letters shone in the bright light: ZAURIK THORN. Lycan king of the Deadlands. One Year. One Rule. 

My heart beat fast like a trapped bird. “Why me?” I whispered. 

He moved closer, heat coming off him, shadows growing with his movement until they covered mine. He leaned down, his breath felt hot on my ear. “Because you smell like sadness,” he said, his voice soft but sharp. “And sadness… always makes deals.”

Then he stood up, turned around, and walked out with the creature following him. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving only the bad smell of blood and poison. 

I looked at the card cutting into my hand, a small stream of my blood on its edge. The Lycan King had bled in front of me. And instead of killing me for seeing he was weak… He had chosen me. 

My stomach felt sick. I had never used it. Never said his name out loud.

But the card felt alive in my hand, like it was waiting for this moment. Like it knew something. 

I didn't let it go, didn't throw it away, just gripped it tighter. Hard enough to cut my palm. Blood dotted the letters. And I still held onto it