CHAPTER SEVEN - STOCKHOLM SYNDROME

Yes, I had kissed him back that night.

We're reaching that part of the story where I'm wondering if I had developed Stockholm Syndrome.

Over the course of the next week, I wasn't so terrified with Roarke. In a way, he kept me on my toes, just enough. I quickly learned that he had a routine - he wasn't the type of man who sat around and relaxed. He always had to be doing something. If he wasn't in his office, he was with me. He shifted in the mornings. He trained with his pack. He ate at certain times.

Foster started invading my mind again. His sudden death, right in front of me. He was my friend - I mean, we argued a lot, but he was my person out on the streets. I didn't have to be alone because of him. I had someone to talk to. I had someone to suffer with during the cold winters. And, he was gone in a flash and I was too busy fighting my own battle to grieve him.

Roarke had noticed my saddened behavior. He continuously asked me what was wrong, but I knew better than to mention another man in front of him. Even though Foster was dead, the jealousy would still be there with Roarke. He was too possessive.

So, I played off my sadness as loneliness, which he soon believed because he was gone every day for several hours, leaving me with only Maurice. She spent the majority of her time cooking and cleaning. 

One morning, I headed to the kitchen after a hot shower, pulling my damp hair into a bun. When I turned the corner, I slowed my pace at the sight of Roarke. He was seated at the table, hunched over without a shirt on, grunting in pain. I could tell by his sweat and the redness of his skin that he had just shifted.

His dark eyes lifted, meeting mine. "You slept late."

I frowned, then glanced at the time. It was already noon. That explained why I felt so energized and hungry.

Roarke grunted again.

"Uh, are you okay?" I asked, hesitantly. "Where's Maurice?"

"She will be here shortly," he said, roughly. "Come rub me." It wasn't a question. I had quickly learned that Roarke hardly ever asked - he commanded. I wasn't going to argue with him and I could see that he was in pain. I walked over and stood behind his chair, placing my hands on his warm shoulders. "I'm all knotted up."

My eyes drifted across his broad shoulders. "Where are the women that usually do this?"

"Just rub me," he said, sounding irritated. I started rubbing his muscles, searching for knots and tightness. His skin felt hot on my fingertips. There were a couple of alarming scars on his skin, but I didn't dare question him about them. He kept his head dropped, his forearms resting on his thighs. "I asked them not to come."

I tensed. "Oh, the women?" 

"Yes," Roarke said, wincing when I located a knot by his shoulder blade. I wasn't an expert at massages, but I felt like I was doing an okay job. "I don't like them touching me."

"But, they help you - "

"You're doing just fine," he interrupted, flatly. "I prefer you." I bit my bottom lip, shifting on my feet. His muscles relaxed underneath my fingertips, his shoulders hunching further forward. The silence was awful. Deadweight. I was tempted to break it, but he started speaking again. "You get me in knots."

"How do I?" 

"Because, I'm trying to be patient and gentle with you," Roarke said, his voice intimate. "Ever since you tried to kill yourself. I'm trying." He lifted his head and rolled his shoulders back, his muscles shifting underneath my hands. "But, you will soon realize that wolves aren't gentle creatures. It's not in our nature."

My heart skipped a beat. "So, this is all an act?"

"Not all of it."

Roarke abruptly grabbed my arm and pulled me into his lap. He brushed my hair back with his fingers, tucking it behind my ear, continuing, "I will always treat you different from everybody else. However, my treatment towards you is out of respect. It's not who I am. I'm not normally this gentle."

"Out of respect," I repeated, slowly. 

"Yes, you are my female," he said, his fingers trailing down my neck. "You are the woman who will bear my children, who will give me a family. I respect you." His fingers lingered on my pulse, feeling how rapid it was, and his lips curled. "You have my respect. You have my patience. You have me."

But, I wasn't sure if I wanted him. There were benefits and drawbacks of my situation. I was trying to focus on the benefits - the food, the shelter, the bed. It all came with being Roarke's female, but was I willing to suffer the drawbacks?

"And, I have you," he said, his eyes darkening. "You're mine." He placed his hand firmly on the back of my neck, forcing me to look at him. "I will remind you every day. I don't want you to forget."

There was no way that I could forget. His breath was suddenly on the sensitive part of my neck and my entire body shivered. Our eyes locked and there was no mistake that I was seeing lust in his eyes. I should've climbed out of his lap, but I didn't.

He leaned forward, breaking the space between us, and smashed his lips against mine. I didn't expect him to be gentle - he wasn't. His teeth caught my bottom lip and tugged, hungry for me. In a swift moment, he was shifting me in his lap into a position where I was straddling him. I could feel his arousal better now, yet it didn't snap me out of it this time.

I don't have an excuse for my behavior, but I can tell you that I wasn't sure if I was trying to push him away or pull him closer. I didn't want him. I never wanted any of it, but I needed more.

I was following what my body wanted, not my brain.

Before I knew what I was doing, my hands were buried in his hair, tugging. His tongue had forced its way into my mouth while he cupped my ass to keep me in place.

What was I doing?

His lips traveled down to my neck, licking and sucking. It gave me a moment to breathe - and come to a realization of what was happening. What I was doing. I couldn't think straight when his mouth was on mine, but it wasn't any more.

With a shudder, I pushed at his chest, a silent command to stop. He pulled away and when his dark eyes met mine, they were still filled with lust. I didn't understand how I was letting this happen. I didn't understand why I felt an attraction towards him.

He inhaled my scent. "Blake is coming over soon - would you like me to ask him to bring Josephine?" 

I nodded.

"The two of you will stay in the house," he said, clearly it wasn't negotiable. "Maurice will cook you two some lunch."

"Where will you be?"

"In my office," Roarke answered, calmly. "I have important matters to discuss with Blake. Nothing that concerns you." He dragged his hand down my spine, then pressed a kiss against my throat. 

Nearly two hours later, Blake and Josephine arrived at the door. Maurice greeted them, her cheeks smeared with flour from baking, while Roarke stood with me in the living room. He was nibbling on my earlobe - yes, nibbling - and his hand was placed firmly on my hip. I tried to pay him no attention.

Blake strolled into the house, followed by Josephine, who was holding a bottle of red wine. 

There wasn't even a smudge of makeup on her face and her brown hair was messily braided back. Her tireless perfection made me feel inadequate in so many ways. But, the moment a smile stretched onto her face, I relaxed a little bit.

Blake nodded at me. "Chloe, I see you're doing well."

"I am."

"Come," Roarke ordered, pulling away from me. "Let's go talk in my office." Blake silently followed him out of the room, leaving me alone with Josephine. She seemed pleased that the men were gone, judging by her dramatic exhale. So was I.

"What's that smell?" Josephine asked, sniffing the air. "It smells so good."

"Oh, Maurice is making us pasta," I replied, my stomach growling. "I hope you're hungry."

She groaned. "Starving."

The two of us headed into the kitchen where Maurice was stirring the pasta at the stove. A pan of homemade biscuits were in the oven and to top off the meal, Josephine had brought a red wine. Maurice wiped her hands on her apron and faced us, crinkles forming around her eyes as she smiled.

"The biscuits will be done in two minutes," Maurice said, then reached into the cabinet for plates. "I hope you like this recipe - it's new."

Josephine rolled her eyes. "Everything you make is amazing, Maurice."

"I knew I always liked you," Maurice said to her, waving a finger. Josephine beamed, taking a seat at the counter on one of the stools. I plopped down in the stool next to her, biting my bottom lip. Maurice stirred the pasta, then squinted at Josephine. "Are you with child yet?"

I almost choked on air.

Josephine was calm. "No, not yet. We're trying."

"Good, good," Maurice said, nodding. "It's been far too long since I've held a baby." She began scooping some pasta onto the plates, humming to herself.

I looked at Josephine. "You're trying to get pregnant?"

"Yes, for a couple months now," she told me, her cheeks flushing. "I'm at that age where I should be carrying my first child. I've been with Blake for a little over a year now. I'm ready to start a family." We were close in age and I thought that I was too young to have children. Maybe because I still felt like a kid sometimes.

"Oh," I said, careful with my words. "I wish you the best."

"Thank you, Chloe."

Maurice placed two plates of pasta in front of us, then grabbed two wine glasses from the cabinet. She opened Josephine's red wine and poured some into the glasses, being a gracious server. After that, she pulled out the biscuits and scooped them onto a separate plate in front of us.

"Eat well, girls," Maurice said, slipping off her apron. "I will just be outside at the garden, okay?" 

Once she was gone, I started picking out the chunks of chicken, scooting them to the edge of my plate. Josephine noticed as she lifted her glass of wine, pausing. "You don't like chicken?"

"I'm trying to get back to my vegetarian ways."

She grinned. "What does Roarke think of that?"

"Oh, he doesn't know," I admitted, quietly. "When he's not looking, I get rid of the meat. I think Maurice has started to notice, but she hasn't said anything. . ."

"Us wolves eat a lot of meat," Josephine said, amused. "If you don't want to adjust to our diet, you're going to have to put your foot down." I tried once before, kind of, and Roarke refused to accept my vegetarian ways. "If he wants to make you happy, he will accept your eating choices."

I hesitated. "He won't accept them."

"Maybe not right now," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I think he's more focused on getting you healthy than your food preferences." Her hazel eyes skimmed my boney body. I was slowly gaining weight. "And, the males love providing food for their females. It makes them feel dependable."

"Okay," I murmured, before chewing a mouthful of pasta. Josephine ripped her biscuit apart and started drizzling honey. I realized that this was an opportunity for me to ask questions that I wasn't comfortable asking Roarke or didn't want his biased opinion. "Do many wolves pick humans as their females?"

"Yes," Josephine answered, licking honey off her thumb. "But, not many Alphas do. I guess that makes you special."

I shook my head. "I don't know what he sees in me."

"Well, you're pretty," she complimented, giving me a look. "There isn't a particular reason why he chose you. A wolf kind of just knows." She noticed the confusion on my face and she smiled, turning towards me. "I knew Blake was the perfect male for me after our eyes met. I can't explain it - but I just knew."

I was silent.

She tilted her head. "Do you feel anything for Alpha Roarke?"

That was a good question and I had the perfect answer. "When I first met him, he had his pack kill my friend in front of me. It happened so fast. He knows how to make an unforgettable first impression. Ever since, I feel like I've been walking on egg shells around him. I'm scared to make him angry - but I don't hate him. I should, he killed my friend, but I don't."

"Do you want to hate him?"

"Yes," I replied, quietly. "If I got the option to stay here or go back to the streets, I would choose the streets."

Josephine looked sad. "I hope that changes."

"Yeah."

-

That night, Roarke changed into a pair of familiar shorts. "We have another celebration tonight."

I was situated on the bed, watching as he walked around the room in a hurry. His powerful legs, thick with muscle, caused him to move with such strength and agility. It was honestly hot seeing his quads, his shoulders, his biceps, and all his other muscles flex as he moved. His dark hair was rumpled and his brown eyes were narrowed.

His gaze flickered to my motionless figure. "And, you're coming."

"Oh," I said, taken by surprise. "What are we celebrating?"

"A male in my pack has chosen a female," he said, rummaging through his closet. "We celebrate whenever two wolves settle together."

It finally occurred to me. "Wait, the last celebration, were we celebrating you and me? Is that what that was?"

"Yes," he answered, approaching the bed. He stretched out a brown t-shirt in front of me on the mattress, then pointed at it. "Change."

When he turned his back to me, I quickly slipped into the t-shirt, uneasy at the short length. It was much shorter than his other shirts, but his pack hardly wore any clothing at these celebrations. I was probably going to be the most conservative there. They also didn't wear any shoes.

Roarke eyed me. "Good."

I followed him downstairs, nervously tucking a strand behind my ear. At least I was able to leave the house and get some fresh air. I was practically suffocating in his house.

When I stepped outside onto the porch, I shrieked when he suddenly lifted me up into his arms and leaped off the steps. Roarke casually began walking through the trees, his feet bare. The air was chilly and the sun was settling down behind the hills. I curled closer into his chest, seeking his warmth, while peering down at his feet. 

"Do your feet hurt?" I asked, curiously. "What about twigs or thorns -"

"Wolves have a higher pain tolerance than humans," he told me, unfazed when a twig snapped beneath his foot. "I will be fine."

I shifted in his arms. "Do you get cold like me?"

"Yes, but not as fast," Roarke answered, smoothly. "My core temp is hotter than yours. Werewolves are basically a newer, modified version of a human - we have qualities that make survival easier on us." 

I nodded my head, understanding what he was saying. 

He placed his mouth against my temple, murmuring, "I will always warm you."

I stiffened. "Okay."

I didn't say anything else. He didn't say anything else. Not until we arrived at the celebration, which would end in a bloodbath.