1.3 | vidar thorvald

Written on December 17th and 20th, 2018

C H A P T E R 6

Reluctantly, Tara follows the tense Sigrid. Her eyes are primarily focused on the ground, afraid to make eye contact with Wolves the ladies might encounter on their way to the Alpha's office. Nervousness flows like crazy through Tara's petite body. This causes her to start biting the inside of her cheeks, using the pain as a distraction from what is happening in reality right now.

She starts to taste the taste of blood - light iron - more and more intensely. However, Tara doesn't care about that. In the meantime, she scratches her nails over her forearms. This gives her a reassuring feeling while walking. Her eyes wander in all directions; wanting to get to know as much as possible about her new - and unknown - environment.

The carpet on the floor doesn't seem very welcoming in Tara's opinion. It is dusty, with gray colors. For the most part it is heavily worn. And if you look closely you'll see the destruction that the carpet has had to undergo. Here and there a piece is missing or bloody spots can be seen. Only if you look very carefully.

The ladies proceed one corridor after another, with almost to no daylight visible. That is no problem for Tara; in the dungeons of the Pugna Vincula there was no light most of the time. A dim light here and there when important figures came to visit the prisoners.

The moment Tara looks up and lets her eyes wander to the walls, she notices the torn paintings. Large claw prints adorn the torn canvas. Although something in Tara is awakened and is actually curious about what could be seen in the golden frames, Tara does not deviate from the shuffling pattern that moves her.

'We're almost there,' Sigrid announces. She stops walking as soon as she stands in front of a tall staircase, where it only seems to get darker the higher you go. With a half turn, the maid turns so that she can look Tara straight in the eye. Her whole face is tense and emotion is hard to find. 'Behave,' she begins. 'Only speak when asked to speak.'

A whole list of the code of conduct that Tara must comply by, is flying around her head. Fear is now starting to increase; this Alpha is probably not at all what she expected. She wraps her arms protectively around her upper body. She scratches hard over her damaged skin with her sharp - and now clean - nails. Since Sigrid is so busy addressing the young girl, she doesn't pay attention to this.

* * *

The door is slightly open. Weak light burns from the Alpha's office. Unsure whether she should just walk in or wait for him to call her in, Tara remains frozen. She has one arm up; her hand clenched into a small fist so she could knock.

Since Tara has no sense of time after years in the Pugna Vincula, she does not realize that she has been standing stock still in front of the oak door for five minutes. Her heart is pounding so loudly that a Wolf could hear her miles away, the same goes for her ragged breathing. With her other hand she holds her elastic band as best she can, only now realizing that she will soon see the Alpha. Wearing pants that are still too big on all sides.

What Tara doesn't know is that the Alpha has long noticed that she is at his door. He remains seated in his chair with an emotionless face. He enjoys listening to Tara's loudly beating heart, how her blood rushes through her veins and how her breathing becomes increasingly difficult.

With a slight crook at the corners of his mouth, the Alpha stands up. With more force than necessary, he pushes himself off his desk and stretches his legs. He rests his hands on the desktop for a moment. He takes one deep breath through his nose, closes his eyes and then calmly blows out the air.

In an instant the door is swung open. A fierce man looks at Tara intensely. His eyes are black. Pitch-black. Tara has never seen such dark eyes before; and she has had to face many dark looks. It is said that the eyes of both Wolves and Humans are the mirror to the soul, but this appearance makes Tara wonder if that is really the case.

A breaking sound fills the deserted hallway and, startled, Tara looks at where a door used to be stuck on its hinges. A loud growl leaves the throat of the Alpha in front of her. Another vibrates menacingly in his chest. The Alpha turns around, seething, and violently throws the piece of door he still has in his hands onto the ground.

Immediately, Tara's brown eyes shoot to the person who caused this scene. The man in front of her has the muscles to smash thousands of skulls in one, plus his intimidating limbs are completely covered in heavy tattoos. Tara responds by collapsing completely and producing soft - submissive - sounds.

'Stop it!' He roars. With loud and furious steps he strides towards the girl. He grabs her by the hair and unceremoniously pulls Tara into the room. As roughly as he just handled the door, he easily throws Tara into a corner of the office. She now holds her arms high in front of her face as she rolls into a fetal position.

Of all the ways this meeting could have gone, this was the last way she expected. Tara probably deeply disappointed this Alpha by not suffering enough during the execution at the Pugna Vincula. That's the only thing the scared girl can think of and curses herself for it. What a failure she is.

'I-I'm sorry,' Tara says, wincing. She hopes to please the man this way. It leaves her mouth as softly as can be. While most Wolves would not have heard it, the Alpha before her did hear it. He is not like most Wolves, he is Alpha Vidar Thorvald.

* * *

The Alpha looks at the young woman in front of him with an extremely satisfied feeling. The corners of his mouth are turned up viciously and his arms are folded. This shows off the biceps that have caused many people pain, just like the hands that have the blood of many on them. Vidar's brows are furrowed as he takes in the entire view.

Something about this girl appeals to him, makes his Wolf crazy and longing for something that the woman - at least seven years younger - would not have thought of in her wildest dreams. He, on the other hand, knows exactly what he wants - and will do - with her. Normally he does not buy prisoners from the masters who run the Pugna Vincula, but now Vidar had no choice.

'Name,' Vidar asks, breaking the tense silence between the two. He watches with amusement as the girl searches for words and is actually too scared to say anything. 'I asked,' he repeats icily, '-for your name!'

Tara's eyes immediately shoot open and she looks at him with wide eyes. 'T-T-Tara,' she stutters, holding her hand to the side of her head. She had hit it hard through her own clumsiness when she entered the Alpha's office.

'Tara,' the man mumbles, letting the letters of her name roll off his tongue. A shiver runs down Tara's spine and she tries to keep the shiver that is all too audible to herself. An action that the Alpha is not pleased with.

'Stand,' he orders her and walks slowly towards the dilapidated leather bench where Tara is sitting. Like a tame sheep, Tara obeys and immediately perks up. Because she is still light-headed from a few minutes ago, her eyes see black for a few seconds. With a lot of effort she manages to maintain her balance and thus remain standing.

She clenches her jaw tightly and - without realizing it - holds her breath when the Alpha is only a few millimeters away from her. Goosebumps spread across her arms and back as Vidar traces the shape of Tara's view with just his finger.

'So fragile,' he sighs softly. 'So vulnerable.' With only her eyes, Tara follows the man who starts walking around her. He stops behind her. One of his hands rests on Tara's bruised hip. Then Vidar brings his mouth to Tara's right ear. His breath tickles her neck slightly and a hand stroking Tara's hair to one side feels strange. He takes all the time to do this, to increase his effect on her.

'So fragile,' he repeats his words in a whisper. Without having time to react, Vidar violently pulls Tara's hair. It's not hard enough to break her neck, but it's powerful enough that Tara now stares up into the Alpha's terrifying dark eyes. 'And now you're going to listen to me carefully.'

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