Dark Alpha: A Fated Mates Novel

45: AIDE

~SINCLAIR~

Alaric took one look at Vannie and paused working on the brown wolf he had been tending to. 

This wolf looked like he'd been wounded in human form, but had shifted to his wolf to stop the pain from being too unbearable. When Alaric's weathered fingers brushed the fur that obviously hid gashes, the wolf howled, more sensitive to pain.

Alaric rushed to apply a salve on the wound, but Sin stopped him with a rough growl. "Treat the Queen. Right now."

He abandoned the wolf and indicated for Vannie to be put on the examination table. 

"Alaric," another impatient growl warned. It was a fool's battle if he truly thought Sin was going to leave Vannie.

So Alaric began a slow, careful examination of the Queen while her mate held her, knowing well that any misconstrued provocation or any wrong movement would cost him his life. 

Sin was high on his emotions at the moment, and maybe a little irrational. He wasn't the fair Alpha. He would definitely hurt Alaric if he didn't do something soon about Vannie. He would also hurt Alaric if he touched Vannie in a way that would cause her to cry out in pain.

He wanted to hurt Alaric, full stop. He wanted to hurt something.

After few minutes, he asked, "Did you try to rouse Her Majesty?" 

"Yes. Yes, I did, after I realized that she fainted."

"The Queen shall live," Alaric said, sensing Sin's rising impatience. "The Queen is severely sleep-deprived, and she has expended more energy than she should have today. But it's nothing a few days of complete rest will not cure."

The Alpha froze, his aggression receding. "She'll be fine?" His voice was no higher than a whisper, and his daemon was howling inside him like she was the only thing in the world and he would just shrivel up and die if he didn't look his fill. 

The Rapha lowered his gaze, probably too embarrassed to watch his Alpha and Luna's suffering.

"Yes. She'll be alright. She only needs to sleep it out." He could almost see the relief rushing through the King.

"How long will the Queen sleep, then?" He asked.

The Rapha moved to his shelf and picked out a lidded plate, opened it and took a sniff of its contents. He walked back to his former position, slightly limping.

"I cannot be certain of how long the Queen will sleep." He placed the plate on a table and brought it towards them. "But this potion will purge her completely. She will lose the contents of her stomach and will be delirious and feverish. If you'll put Her Majesty in our care, my aides shall see to her perpetual comfort during her stay here."

Everything in Sin fiercely rebelled against the Rapha's suggestion. He was her mate, he'd take care of her, and he would see to all her needs himself. 

"No. No one comes near the Queen. I'll take care of her needs myself," he said, managing to keep his voice neutral.

The Rapha started. "She will be terribly ill. At least allow for some assistance," he tried to persuade.

This time, Sin could barely leash his growl. "No one comes near her. Just give me the instructions and I'll handle it myself."

The old man wisely relented. "As you wish, Your Majesty. I'll ask them to bring in all you'll need to get through the night."

Sin nodded. "What do I need to do?"

"Like I said, she'll lose the contents of her stomach. You only need to be prepared for it. Clean her up with the napkins and a bowl of water — it's fortified — and keep her hydrated. After each bout of nausea, she must have at least two sips of water, and she must keep it down."

"And if she doesn't?"

"She worsens."

Sin nodded his understanding, refusing to consider that possibility. "Will that be all?"

"Keep her warm." He turned to leave. "And call for me if you need assistance."

"I won't."

A moment of hesitation. "Very well." 

Some minutes after the Rapha's departure, two aides entered to the room, one bearing empty bowls and the other carrying two filled with water on each hand. 

They came back to carefully carry out the wounded male, and the silence was deafening after they left.

Sin immediately became consumed with the woman in his arms.

He hadn't held her this long before. Was it terrible that he was grateful to the fates for granting him this opportunity?

He didn't particularly want to think about what was to come. He just wanted to have this moment of completion.

She was so warm, so soft. Gods, he could hold her for the whole of eternity if she'd let him. 

The longing was so fierce, he had to lower his head and drop a kiss on her cheeks. Her very warm cheeks. And another on her forehead. He couldn't help but linger there, wishing he could place a kiss on another part of her face.

Before he could torture himself by thinking of other parts he hadn't yet dropped kisses on, her eyes fluttered open in disorientation. She looked around for a bit and swallowed. "Why do I feel this weak?"

He cradled her more tightly in his arms, amazed that she hadn't thrown him off. "You're ill, my heart. But you'll be good soon." He collected the plate from the table. "Just have a little sip of this."

She didn't argue, to more of his astonishment. She could hardly keep it down, and he had to physically clamp her lips together till she swallowed. For the moments that followed, she vomited till he was sure she'd lost a visceral organ.

He barely had the time to clean her and give her the mandatory sips before she was throwing up again. And to make things worse, the daemon was pounding in his head, certain that something would happen to his mate.