Chapter 8.1: Interruption

Chapter 8.1

He looked up, his eyes wide with shock. How dare an ordinary soldier hit a Supreme Alpha? Had he no fear for his life?

He stood up slowly, still reeling in shock from the slap.

It was ironical— someone who he was physically larger than had that much force.

“What did you just do?” Theron seethed, walking towards her menacingly.

She stared at him defiantly, jaw clenching in anger. Her lips still tingled from the kiss and her starved self wanted more.

But she couldn’t.

She hated his guts and hated that everything about an idea of them was wrong no matter what sexual chemistry seemed to be developing.

“What did you just do?” Theron seethed again, anger bubbling beneath his skin.

“What did it feel like?” She spat back, her heart hammering against her chest. Goddess, he had been so close to feeling and knowing what her secret was.

“Cael, how dare you?”

“No,” her voice was filled with fury. “How dare you? Do you not have dignity as alpha? Enough dignity to know that yoh should not…” she stopped herself, unable to say the words. “You should not with a man?”

“Right?” Theron laughed bitterly. “Like you didn’t kiss me back. Like you didn’t act like you wanted it too.”

“Stop deluding yourself and projecting what you get on me—“

“Theron!” A fragile but deep voice called out from outside the tent. The flap opened and Beta Gerald walked in.

He was a lean, weathered man in his fifties with greying hair at the temples. His thin lips were downturned, and his eyes were a soft brown color.

Gerald had a cast of white bandage wrapped around his arm tightly. He stopped short, looking between the two of them for a brief instant. “Is everything well?”

“Of course,” Theron replied, still seething in anger but he had to comport himself. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I wasn’t expecting the death of your father either,” he said solemnly, blinking rapidly as though trying to contain tears. “The moment word got to me, I made the three day journey back to Althara. How have you been holding up son?”

“Just fine.” Theron said. “What happened to your arm?”

“I was attacked. But it is nothing.”

“Your arm is in a cast. I beg to differ.”

Gerald’s ignored him, his eyes moved once again to Maera. “Commander Cael. We meet again— it has been years. I remember the small scrawny boy conscripted at what was it again? Thirteen? You, barely growing, no title… you have grown into a fine young man… still scrawny, but I have heard of your many victories.”

“A pleasure to see you again,” Maera almost curtsied but she caught herself in time. It was one mistake she still struggled not to make even after several years. “I shall excuse the rwo of you.”

She brushed past Theron before he could respond but without sparing Theron another glance. The tent flap fell shut behind her, cutting off her scent.

Theron’s hands curled into fists in anger.

The slap still burned his check and he had to act like all was fine, he could still taste Cael’s mouth and worst of all, the humiliation would not even leave him.

Gerald who was oblivious exhaled deeply. “Theron,” he said softly, the way one would speak to a grieving child, “sit. You look—”

“I’m fine,” Theron snapped too quickly. He dragged a palm over his face, trying to force calm into himself. “I’m fine,” he repeated.

Gerald studied him for a moment, then took a careful seat, his injured arm resting across his lap. “Your father’s death… is a tragedy.”

“It is,” replied Theron, his eyes drifting to the tent flap again. A muscle ticked in his jaw.

He had kissed a man, and that man had slapped him.

A man had made his knees weaken, even if only for a second.

He hated himself for it.

“Theron,” Gerald called again, noticing thy Theron was distracted and he was always looking towards the entrance of the tent. Nothing ever went amiss in his ever observant eyes. “Did something happen before I came in?”

His head snapped up. “No.”

Gerald raised a brow.

“I said no,” Theron snapped, unable to keep his annoyance away.

Gerald nodded slowly, accepting the lie for what it was. “You must rest. Grief does not settle in one day.”

Grief.

If only grief was the thing clawing at his chest.

When Gerald finally left the tent, offering a respectful bow before disappearing, Theron let himself collapse into the nearest chair.

His fingers rose to his lips.

He felt stupid, weak and reckless.

He had kissed Cael.

And worse, Cael had kissed him back.

He slammed his fist into his thighs,“What the hell is wrong with me?”

He was Supreme Alpha and not supposed to lose control.

He was not supposed to get swayed by a soldier… by a man… and not a scrawny little thing like Gerald had said.

Theron dragged a hand through his hair, restless. He didn’t sleep that night at all. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Cael again and felt the kiss, the slap, the fury and the fear. He kept glancing towards the other end of the tent, waiting for him to return, but it seemed like Cael had other plans.

By the time dawn broke, his decision was made.

If Commander Cael could unbalance him this deeply, then he needed Cael away from him.

He was going to get him out of sights and out of reach completely.

And more importantly…

out of his thoughts.