Chapter 6
Chapter 6:
I had never in my life imagined that something like this would happen between us.
Even now, when he looked up at me, there was pain in his eyes. I knew I didn’t look beautiful with my bruised lips and swollen left eye. There was still a throbbing ache there, making every movement a struggle, and I winced as the door banged shut. He winced with me, and it was strange. It was almost as if he felt my pain. Or perhaps it genuinely hurt him to see me hurt.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, sitting on the bed beside me. I hugged my knees protectively around myself and stared up at him. Was I his prisoner? Or was I something else? What was really happening between us?
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said, his voice calm, but a frown passed across his face, as though he was hurt by the thought that I might fear him.
“I’m sorry for what… for what happened,” he continued. “I wish I had been there earlier. Then you wouldn’t be in this condition p>
He opened the tray and revealed the plates of food. Two flat wooden plates were covered by wooden bowls. It was strange, because those plates only existed in the healing bay, which meant he—
“Did you cook?” I asked in a hoarse voice that hurt my throat. It was low, but I still managed to get the words out, and he heard me.
He laughed softly, and that was the first time I had ever seen him smile. A frown of confusion crossed my face as my eyes searched his.
“Yes, I did. I found a deer in the woods and caught it. I made soup for you. Don’t worry, I made it myself, so you don’t have to worry about being poisoned. I’ll take a bite or two to prove it to you,” he replied.
True to his word, he took two spoonfuls of the soup and two chunks of the meat, chewing them with excitement, as though they were delicious. I smiled and took the tray from him. With shaky hands, I placed it in my lap. I had been extremely hungry, feeling as though I hadn’t eaten in forever.
My stomach hurt badly, as though a heavy weight was pressing down on it, demanding to be satisfied. Without thinking twice or pausing to savor the taste, I drank down the two plates of soup in front of me.
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He placed two aspirin tablets in my hand and gave me a cup of water, which I swallowed without hesitation, because every part of my body ached.
I turned to him, my eyes shy from my unladylike behavior toward the food. “Why are you doing all this for me?” I asked, my voice less hoarse. The soup and water had helped clear my throat, freeing my vocal cords from their previous raspiness.
“Do I have to even spell it out?” he asked, looking at me intensely. His gaze was unwavering, and there was a hint of hurt in his eyes.
There was something in his expression that made me feel like I was supposed to know the answer to my own question. I turned my gaze away from his burning stare, which seemed to bore into me as if trying to pierce my very soul.
“I… but I am just an unworthy Omega,” I said plainly, looking at my palms.
“You are not an unworthy Omega. You are my Omega! And you don’t ever have to forget that. Do you understand me?” he said, his tone making me worry that I had angered him.
“I’m sorry I upset you,” I murmured, lowering my eyes.