His Worst Behavior

Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE - THE TRUTH HURTS

When I woke up, Roarke was gone.

The temptation to sneak out the window washed over me, however I knew that if he was still in the house, he would hear me with his heightened senses. I tiptoed out of his bedroom and down the hallway, finding him in the kitchen. He was seated at the table, hunched over, as two women rubbed him.

A wet towel was draped around his neck, the ends of his hair dripping with sweat. There was a pinkness to his cheeks, but that didn't soften his look whatsoever. He still looked vicious. The women were werewolves, probably members of his pack, clearly enjoying rubbing their Alpha. I wasn't sure what was happening at the moment.

Roarke lifted his head, peering at me. I wasn't oblivious of his eyes skimming my body, soaking in the sight of me in his clothes. "Breakfast is on the counter. Eat."

I was almost too distracted by his ripped muscles clenching and relaxing as he was rubbed. Shaking my head, I walked over to the counter, seeing a variety of meat. Bacon, sausage, and scrambled eggs with ham. I noticed the buttered bread and grabbed two slices, placing them on a plate.

Roarke had been watching me the whole time. "Don't forget the meat."

I stiffened, then reluctantly, grabbed a single piece of bacon. When I sat across from him at the table, his eyes narrowed at the piece.

"It's a start," I murmured, avoiding his gaze. I waited for several seconds until he exhaled loudly, letting it slide. I was relieved. The women continued to probe, push and release, into his muscles, not acknowledging me. "Uh, do you always get massages?"

"Whenever I shift," he replied, watching me. "Shifting into a wolf causes a lot of knots and strains." That made sense. I started nibbling on a slice of buttered bread, keeping my eyes trained on the women. Did they do this voluntarily? Did he order them to rub him? Judging by the love and respect in their eyes, they didn't mind.

I licked my bottom lip. "You shifted this morning?"

"I shift whenever I can," Roarke said, rolling his neck. "The longer a werewolf goes without shifting, the more painful it will be the next time he does." One of the women nodded in agreement, digging her fingers into his back. "I'm also trying to master self-control."

He began flexing his fingers in front of himself, as if he was trying to get his blood flowing. Then, his eyes narrowed at my plate in agitation. "Eat."

"I am."

He suddenly jerked his shoulders to halt the women. Both of them stepped back, submissively. Roarke rose to his feet and rolled his square shoulders, before cracking his neck to one side, then the other. "Leave."

I watched as the women scampered out the sliding glass door without a word. 

Roarke remained emotionless. "I will be training with my men today. Maurice will be watching you."

I frowned. "Who's Maurice?"

As if on cue, an older woman strolled out from around the corner. She had soft eyes and dark hair speckled with grays. There was a flowery apron tied on her waist and her skirt swayed at her ankles as she approached us. If I had a grandmother, I imagined that she would've looked like this.

"Hello, Chloe," Maurice greeted, warmly. "I'm Maurice." I stared blankly at her, still in my seat. She was a werewolf, but I had a feeling that she helped Roarke around the house, such as cooking and cleaning, like a maid.

"My pack doctor will also be stopping by," Roarke added, calmly. "She will take a look at you."

I tensed. "I don't like doctors - "