His Little Runt

Chapter 6

Alairia

I hate the eyes of everyone who I know despise me on my skin. Their stares burn my back, creep up my arms, and trail down my spine. It's unnerving, and yet none of them ask why my face is half covered in purple and blue smudges. They don't care why it happened, they only enjoy the new entertainment brought to the table.

If only my face healed as quickly as my hands.

"One lemon tart and a strawberry shortcake to go," I say cheerfully, pushing the paper bag towards the man with a stunned expression, his eyes glued to my face.

I turn away, brushing a stray hair that must have fallen from my braids. Perspiration sticks to my fingers, and I'm reminded that the stove is cooking a fresh batch of croissants and cookies that will be done any minute. My busiest day just so happened to fall on the day after I got pummelled.

"I ordered like half an hour ago!" An angry guy with greying hair and a wrinkled complexion barks.

I can almost guarantee that I just took his order not even five minutes ago, but I still say, "Sorry, sir. The croissants are just still baking and I-"

"Whatever," he interrupts, going to slump back down at his table.

I scrub my hands on my apron, trying to wipe away this mood. I'm never as anxious as I am right now, but something about today has made me jittery. I don't know if it's the constant stares or Caden's suggestion last night, but I'm really off my game.

The timer beeps and I jump, my nerves so tangled that I can barely take the noise of the bakery anymore.

I open the oven to the smell of fresh baked croissants and warm chocolate cookies. I inhale deeply, filling my nose with sweet courage, hoping it's enough to get me through today.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

It's dark outside when I finally open my door. There was so many dishes that my hands look like prunes from soaking in the water so long, and I'm willing to bet it took at least an hour to scrub all the counters and tables. At the end of the day though, when all the chaos settles and it's just me and my business, I'm reminded of why I absolutely adore baking.

I like to believe that I learned to bake before anything else. Holding spoons as my mother held me, scooping cookies as I sat on the counter, sprinkling chocolate and sprinkles as my mother lifted me to reach the pans.

I love to make memories of my own in my head, seeing as I have none that I can remember. A father and a mother who loved their daughter very much. A close family who laughed all the time. A family who knew what their future held and had no fears of ever striking out. A family that stayed together, who never separated for anything, or who never-

I trip, my feet stumbling before righting themselves again. I know that crack in the pavement. I avoid it every time I walk home, but I suppose today my thoughts are occupying more of my head than I should let
them.

I rub my hands down my face, hissing when I'm reminded that half of it is covered in painful bruising. Today is just not my day. I just need to go home, take a hot bath and-

"HELP!"

My head jerks toward the sound, searching the darkened woods as I try to find the source.

"Please, somebody help me!"

A scream of terror follows, and I don't even think before my feet are running for the direction it came from.

"Please," the person sobs, and it sounds distinctly female.

A dark shape emerges in my vision, crouched on the ground, tugging on something that looks like a net.

I approach slowly, the recklessness of my decision finally rearing its head.

"Hello," I say quietly. "My name is Alairia."

The girl on the ground whimpers. "You have to help me! He's coming back!"

A chill rolls through me. "Who?"

She tugs on the net contraption. "Please!"

"Ok, ok!" I say, getting on my knees to see better.

It looks like some kind of animal trap, which is weird considering I've never seen any sort of traps out here until now. The braided rope is wrapped tightly around her foot, holding her in place. The net clips to a metal hook hammered into the tree, eventually branching off into a giant net that could probably hold a bear.

Or a wolf....

A glint catches my eye, and I look closer, peering at the hook that protrudes from the wood. It's not metal, it's iron, which means that this trap was not put up by a wolf, meaning nobody in this pack put it here.

"Who did you say you were?" I ask shakily.

The girl smirks. "I didn't, but you'll figure it out soon enough."

Something heavy hits my head, and I catch a delighted giggle right before everything goes dark.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

"It's literally the size of a tennis ball!"

"I did exactly what I was supposed to do. I don't understand why you're so worried."

My consciousness slips in and out, like it can't decide whether to come back or fade into nothingness once more.

Someone growls. "I'm worried because you marked her up! Dall won't like that you brought him damaged goods!"

The voice sounds oddly familiar, and I realize with a start that it's the girl from the forest.

A male sighs. "She was already damaged. Do you not see the purple side of her face? Are you that blind?"

"I am not blind!"

"Well your actions beg to differ. More than once, might I add."

"No, you may not add! You are such an ass sometimes!"

"At least I have an ass," the guy mumbles.

A gasp of outrage follows. "You inconsiderate, barbaric, lowly-"

"She's awake," the guy says suddenly, and I swear I can feel his eyes on me.

I go as still as I can, calming my breathing and making my eyes stop moving under their lids.

I've been kidnapped, that much is clear, but I don't know by whom or why. Of every single wolf in that pack, they chose the one wolfless runt to capture. Are they aware that I'm completely useless to them?

"Keeping your eyes closed is a neat trick," the guy says, suddenly very close. "But I'm not a fan of the circus."

I open my eyes slowly, taking in one thing at a time; the man that's crouched in front of me, the couch in the corner, the blankets underneath my fingers, the bed that I'm on...? The bright yellow ceiling, and the girl from the woods, staring at me smugly.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," she says cheerily.

I turn my head, trying to look at the man next to me, but my head gives a sharp burst of pain. I wince, reaching up to touch the tender spot on the back of my head. I realize then that my hands aren't cuffed, which is unusual in a kidnapping situation.

"What am I doing here?" I ask groggily.

"I would like to formally apologize for my brother's less than stellar way of making you come with us," the girl says with a grimace. "He likes violence."

"You're... siblings?" I ask.

They both grin, and I can see the uncanny resemblance even before they the say in unison, "Twins."

"What the hell is happening?" I whisper, mostly to myself.

"Well, you see, explanations are kinda hard without the boss around, so we're just here for entertainment." The girl says.

She is an avid hand talker, and something shines on her wrist as she gestures wildly. The material looks exactly like the metal hook in the tree, but this time I know it's not metal.

"You guys aren't wolves," I mutter, whipping my head around, not even caring about the pain as I find an identical bracelet on the guy's arm. "You're-"

"Humans," they say in perfect tandem.