I'm the Alpha's Crush

Chapter 43

*CONTENT WARNING* This chapter will contain detailed descriptions of sexual activity. If you would rather not read that, then please skip from the first bolded line to the second – this will cut out the sauciest parts of the chapter while keeping the plot intact.

With almost a dozen wasp stings that hadn't healed yet, I called it an early night, sleeping fitfully in the soft, inn bed.

Waking up on Wednesday, the remnants of half-remembered dreams flitted through my mind, snatches of memory that dissolved in the morning light.

I lay there for a moment, assessing my condition, relieved to find that the burning pain and itchiness of the stings were almost completely gone.

Closing my eyes, I silently thanked the Goddess for our healing abilities, grateful that I wouldn't have to endure that sensation for days.

Then, turning my head, I looked toward Malcolm's bed.

Empty sheets were rumpled where he had slept, but he was nowhere to be found.

Throwing back the covers, I stood, walking to the bathroom.

Steam hung in the air, along with traces of his soap and shampoo, but no Malcolm.

Showering and dressing quickly, I hurried downstairs, growing concerned - but there he was, presiding over breakfast, with only the slight slump of his shoulders betraying his mood.

Malcolm smiled when he saw me, and I went over to him, worried eyes scanning over his face.

His brow furrowed, "Hey, didn't you get my note?"

I frowned, shaking my head.

"Shit." He grimaced, "I was going to let you sleep in - after yesterday, I figured you could use it."

"So could you," I countered.

"I'm fine, see?" He gestured to his face, "All better."

"Malcolm-" All evidence of swelling and redness may have disappeared, but that didn't ease my fears.

"Besides," he added, "the Alpha Seminar is still ongoing - if I miss today, then I'd have to send in Will, and I wouldn't do that to him."

I snorted, "We're slated to help out with 'Pack Survivor', whatever the fuck that means. I guarantee he'd rather be attending the seminar."

Malcolm rubbed his hand over his stubbled jaw, and I could feel the weariness in his bones. "Don't worry about it - I've got it handled, promise."

Unsure, I sat back in my chair, settling a hand on his shoulder, "Okay, if you're sure."

He reached up, squeezing, "I'm sure."

Turns out, "Pack Survivor" was an outdoor team building competition where the organizers wisely grouped people at random, regardless of pack affiliation. It was going about as well as could be expected, and less than half an hour in, I'd had to break up a near fistfight.

To add insult to injury, River wasn't returning my calls. Stepping away from my station during a break, I pulled out my phone, noting the three failed attempts from before.

Crossing my arms, I held the phone up to my ear, muttering, "C'mon, Riv. Pick up. Pick up..."

Nothing.

When their voicemail recording finished playing, I said, "Hey, it's me again - I'm really starting to worry about you. Call me back when you get a chance."