FREYA
Zara's whimpering woke me.
I stretched, and jolted upright. I needed to polish the floors, to steal food for Zara, or she wouldn't have breakfast, to –
I frowned. I wasn't in the slave-quarters. The bed felt too soft, the sheets were too soft, cool, like – bamboo sheets.
I took in the rest of the room, as the memories came flooding in.
"Mommy, I'm hungry," Zara whimpered, rubbing her belly. "Is it too late to get food before the bad Madame comes?"
I shook my head, hugging her as tears filled my eyes. "Oh Sweetheart, I don't think we'd need to steal food again," but I wasn't so sure. I knew Darkmoon was too civilized to starve a child, but I couldn't tell if Alpha Zac would be even more cruel to me than Gregory was.
Zara pulled out of my arms, and shot me a quizzical look. "Why did you call me sweetheart Mommy, I'm Zara!"
"Yes baby, Sweetheart is a name you call someone you love, and Mommy loves you."
She seemed more perplexed. "You did not love me when we were in the bad house, that's why you only called me Zara?"
"No Sweetheart," I said, drawing her into my arms but before I could explain further, the door opened.
I flinched, and hated the look of fear that instantly entered Zara's eyes, as she stared wide-eyed at the maid who stepped in.
"Good afternoon Ms," the woman said with a curtesy. "You slept through dinner yesterday, I did not know if I should have woken you, please forgive me if I chose wrongly."
I nodded. "It's alright – what's your name?"
"Helen, Madame."
"It's alright Helen. But I and my daughter would like to eat something soon, we're ravenous."
She nodded immediately. "Do you have a preference for breakfast, or should the chef use his discretion?"
"I'll leave it to the chef," I reassured.
From the look on Zara's face, she couldn't wait for the woman to leave before she started with the questions. "Mommy, you call me sweetheart, and now she calls you Madame, but you're not Madame Tessa?"
I nodded. "I didn't call you sweetheart in – the bad house because there, it's easy to forget your name, so I wanted you to remember you are Zara. And 'Madame' is simply a name we call someone that is respected."
I could tell her little mind had not fully grasped it, but she had time to adjust. That morning, I cried again as I watched my daughter gorge on the food served, marveling at food that should have been considered normal.
Helen came later to tell me the Alpha had gone out to see to business, and he would be back later.
I spent the day flipping through TV channels – TV was prohibited in Bloodwood, and I had to watch the awe on my daughters face as I finally found a children's channel. How did she learn the songs so quickly? Hoping about as she danced in rhythm.
Later that evening, Helen came back with a change of clothes for I and Zara. My eyes misted as I remembered a time that seemed so long ago, when I would have been happy to receive a beautiful designer dress, now, I was only grateful I had a change of clothes.
A full smile broke out on my face however, as I watched Zara's excitement when she was to wear hers.
Alpha Zack, I was told was waiting in a little cozy parlor. He wanted to see both Zara and I.
My dear returned with full force, as I raised my hand to knock on the door. It opened before I touched it.
Alpha Zac stood in front of me, staring, his expression unreadable.
The door cast a shadow on his face, so that I did not fully see him, but when I stepped into the room, I noticed he – he had been beaten!
He had a double black eye, his lips were torn in at least five places, and from the stiff way he carried himself, I knew there were other bruises his official, Alpha attire hid.
"Alpha Zac!" I cried out, dragging him to the sunlight streaming in.
The bruises looked even worse up close. His eyes were swollen, both of them ringed with dark, angry shades of purple and red. His bottom lip was cracked in too many places, dried blood at the corner of his mouth. My gaze trailed lower, to the stiff way he held himself, the careful way he breathed, and I knew without seeing that he had bruises all over his body.
"What happened to you?" My voice shook, part fear, part anger. "Who did this to you?"
He only gave a small shrug, as though it were nothing, and—infuriatingly—smiled.
"Don't smile at me like that!" I snapped, my throat tight. I reached for his arm and pushed him toward a chair before he could argue. "Sit. Now."
Zac didn't resist, but the way he kept watching me, the ghost of that smile still on his face, made my chest burn hotter. I found a cloth and a bowl of water on the side table, my hands moving before my mind even caught up. Dipping the cloth, I dabbed at his split lip as gently as I could, my fingers trembling.
"You could get an infection," I muttered. "And your ribs—are you even breathing properly? You shouldn't be walking around like this. What kind of Alpha lets himself get beaten this way?"
Still, he smiled. His green eyes followed every movement I made as though nothing else existed in the room.
My hand stilled. "Do you think this is funny?" I burst out, louder than I intended. "Do you think your injuries are so minor? You're bleeding, Zac! Stop looking at me like it doesn't matter!"
His smile softened, but he didn't try to defend himself. Instead, his voice dropped low, almost tender. "It's only good to see how brave you get when you're taking care of someone else. But when it comes to yourself…" His eyes searched mine. "Why are you so timid then, Freya?"
The words struck deeper than I wanted to admit. I clenched my jaw, blinking rapidly, hating the tears threatening to well up again.