Iris: Child of prophecy

Thirty eight.

"Are we there yet?" I asked him about 100 times now. He just kept ignoring me all the way. He insisted after the attack yesterday that he had somewhere to take me. And being the annoying brat I was, of course, I would try to annoy him.

After we walked into what looked like an underground bunker, he finally set me down.

"Look around, the things I picked up over the years that warded off witchcraft. Some I just heard of I don't know if they are true, so I'll need to you confirm."

"So you speak." I frowned at him.

"Of course, I speak. Stop asking dumb questions and just do what I tell you. The pack is our responsibility and arguing about trivial matters is not helping anybody, okay?" He looked at me like he was conversing with a stubborn six-year-old.

"You're not the boss of me," I scoffed.

"Yes, I am. Now go round and check the samples here, see if they are really authentic." He said curtly, not with much effort, but as soon as the words left his mouth I snorted and walked towards the first shelf. The room was full of jars, cobwebs, and dust. They arranged the shelves parallel to one another, and there was only a single row of them.

Walking to the first shelf, I stopped myself before I touched the first one. But my head felt extremely heavy, and it was as if a heavy weight was pressing on me immediately. I tried to resist.

"So, are we going to talk about your outburst last time?" He muttered, but I heard him clearly.

I glanced at him, planning to ignore him by focusing on the jars before me, but somehow I could not touch them. There was this strange sensation I simply could not shake off. Something was off about this room.

"Not going to say anything?" He added, and I rolled my eyes. "Iris!" He growled, and I snapped at him.

"Would you just give me a break?"

He shook his head. "Not in your life. Something is bothering you, so spit it out!"

Unable to keep it bottled in anymore, I did spit it out. "You have had so many mates before me, but you don't tell me about it and now that I've found out, you don't even want to talk about it. How am I supposed to feel, Malik?" I snarled.

He stood there looking at me, a mixture of emotions on his face. His posture was rigid and jaw tight, and his palms were balled into fists. He stared at me.

"I've been so worried that maybe you love me less than them, that I'm not good enough. And the funny thing is that you'd be able to tell since you've experienced this euphoria so many times I'm sure it's lost the power of the high for you. How am I supposed to feel?"

I hated that I was being this needy and vulnerable in front of someone else. It was one thing to think it but to actually say it? I feel so embarrassed. So I looked away and forced this eerie feeling to the back of my mind as I walked further into the aisle.

"I didn't realize," he mumbled.

I turned around. My gaze rested on him as my tongue danced along the surface of my teeth.

"What is it?" He asked. "You have the right to ask me anything."

I nodded. He was right, but how do I ask this? "Do you?" I sighed. "Have you loved any of them more than me? No," I shook my head. "Do you even love me?"

"Look, Iris, I can't possibly imagine what you're going through, and I can't say I regret being with all those women in my past because I don't. I love all those women. They made me the man I am, the Alpha I am. And I know I'm far from perfect but I do my part, I take care of my pack and I protect my own. I know this is not the answer you're looking for, hell I don't know what it is you're looking for. But what I do know is that my past is just that, my past. I can't change it, and I don't want to. What I can tell you is that I love you, and I want to be with you. You are my mate and Luna, and there is nowhere else I'd rather be than with you."