Chapter 11: Chiara

I thought I had successfully reinstated my goals.

The Rogue was a tool; nothing more, nothing less. I already had one Alpha who was making my life a living hell. I didn't need another one.

And yet, as I lay on my bed, I couldn't stop thinking about Lance. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see were his scars, like a morbid constellation in the night sky. His eyes were black holes, sucking me into their depths.

I tossed and turned, hoping that sleep would come soon. When I opened my eyes again to see that it was a quarter past midnight already, I gave up and left my room.

My wolf was a silent spectator to my suffering. The soft huffs of her breath accompanied me as I walked through the halls. My feet carried me out of the mansion, past the empty front yard, and then to the adjacent townhouse.

The first floor was empty, and I climbed up the staircase until I saw a row of doors. Without even an inkling of doubt, I headed towards the last one and knocked.

It took a while before the person on the other side opened the door, and when I finally saw Lance, a sense of relief washed over me. Lance remained standing, his door slightly opened and blocking most of his body. From where I was, I could only see his bare chest and head.

I simply looked at him, words stuck in my tongue.

"Madam—" Lance stopped, glanced at the empty hall outside his room, and then continued. "Chiara. It's late. Why the hell are you still up?"

I winced at his harsh words, although his frustration failed to bring clarity in my mind.

Why was I here again?

"Are you okay?" I asked him, hoping to satisfy that... urge, the one which drove me here, as quickly as possible.

Lance just stared at me. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because of the Initiation Ceremony."

He cocked his head, still confused.

"The branding."

His gaze still looked blank.

"The wound. Your scars. It must be— You know what? Forget about it."

I groaned and started walking away, but I didn't even manage to take another step before I was dragged back.

Lance pulled me inside his room and then locked his door quickly. I surveyed the sparse space, absent of any kind of personalization. Meanwhile, Lance remained standing on the door, his back braced against it, and hands tucked in the pocket of his jeans.

"You can sit, uh... anywhere," he said, gesturing around his room.

I looked around, pulled the chair under his desk, and sat on it.

Lance watched me, his lips slightly parted. "You're not screaming."

"Why would I be?" I threw his question back to him.

"I just dragged you into my room. Without any explanation."

"So...?"

"You're acting like that's a common occurrence."

It was. I sighed and averted my gaze from his. "I was the one who showed up unannounced. Did I... interrupted anything?"

Lance reflexively looked at his bed. I did as well and saw rolls of bandages on top of it. I also just noticed the bottle of antiseptic on his desk.

"Naaah, nothing important," Lance replied. He hastily picked up the bandages. By doing so, I got a full view of his back. The brand on his skin was an angry red. The wound was mottled with dried blood. It was on his lower back, and it would be difficult to bandage it alone.

Before Lance could hide the medical supplies, I grabbed a roll of bandages. "Let me help."

He paused, eyes blinking rapidly as he looked back at me. "You don't have to."

"But I want to," I insisted. "Lay on your stomach on the bed."

Lance chuckled, but he did as he was told. I rearranged the supplies again on the table and leaned over him. The wound didn't look infected, but it must be cleaned thoroughly to be safe. I grabbed a cotton ball, dabbed it in alcohol, and then moved to rub the skin surrounding the wound. However, Lance's chuckles gradually turned into full laughter, making his body shake.

"Stop. Why are you even laughing?" I snapped at him.

"Well, it's my first time being ordered by an omega," he said between fits of laughter. "I have to say it's kindaaaa... hot."

I let go of the cotton ball and straight down poured the alcohol into his wound.

Lance's laughter died down, and he hissed as he tried to move away. "I was just joking!"

"It's not funny," I bit back. "Should I remind you that I'm already married?"

A loveless marriage, needless to say. I believed everyone already knew that, but my point still stood.

That made Lance settle down, and I was finally able to begin treating his wound for real. I made it halfway to cleaning it before he spoke again.

"I'm not the one who barged into the room of a random man in the middle of the night."

I bit my lip, thinking of the words to say next. My mind was a mess, and there was nothing else I could do except say that I was... worried.

That's right. That strange urge that had driven me to seek the Rogue was worry. I've only realized it then, but its absurdity didn't escape me.

After all, why should I worry about tools?

"Chiara?"

I ignored the Rogue, bandaged his wound quickly, and then moved away from his bed. The medical supplies were cluttered in his desk, but I didn't bother to clear them anymore. He could do that himself.

"Hey, Chiara?"

Chiara... even the sound of my name on his lips made me feel... odd. My wolf stirred within me, the traitor only surfacing just now. I ignored her silent whines and rubbed my hands on my nightgown.

Nightgown... I was only wearing my nightgown.

All at once, the reality of the situation dawned on me. I sneaked out of my room, wearing almost nothing, walked through the front yard in the chilling night, knocked on a man's door... and then, what? What happened next?

"You're the one who dragged me into your room," I finally said. I faced the door, arms folded over my chest and shoulders hunched.

"Yeah... I did do that," Lance whispered. I felt him approach me, the scent of pinewood embracing me. My wolf whined again. I ignored her and stared resolutely at the wooden door.

But I almost collapsed when I felt his fingers skim over the bare top of my shoulders. Warmth bloomed in the contact, traveling from the tips down to my toes.

A soft material encased my body, and my hands automatically clasped it tighter around my shivering form. Lance had draped his blanket over me.

"I'm... sorry," he said. His lips were so close to my ears.

"I should go," I whispered back to him.

Pulling the blanket tighter, I dashed to the door and ran out of his room.

***

The sun was already peeking up in the sky when I lay in my bed. Lance's blanket was still wrapped around me, the scent of pinewood lingering in my room. My heart was beating fast, but I had no idea whether it was because of my fear of being caught or because of the Rogue himself.

For some reason, I felt like my plan had already failed despite not even starting it yet.