Not a Beggar

Cruden Tiberias didn't expect anything from his new wife. She was starved, no thanks to her imprisonment, but still soft-eyed like a senseless pup. She smelled like a human and cowered like one too, an observation that unnerved him. She was timid, but tenacious, her mouth unmoving, yet her mind worked overtime. He could see it in the way she glanced from the framed window to the small lock, then, towards the ledge before shifting back to him.

Roselia Fiore was weak. Her features were beautiful in a tragic, haunting manner that'd drive most men into madness if they stared for too long. She was as plain as the paperclip necklace dangling from her slender neck, but he continued watching.

Waiting.

Wondering what Roselia would do with this command of his.

Cruden didn't expect anything from Roselia. Whether it was submission or disobedience, neither would faze him, he assured himself.

Until—Roselia began to strip.

Cruden froze. She reached behind her and with one rough yank, pulled at the ribbons holding her corset together. He straightened and she stared upon him with hawk eyes. Her ugly white dress loosened, slowly sliding down, as the sound of cloth hitting the floor echoed in the room. She kicked her way out of the skirts, her lips twisted, almost in hatred and anger. Her glare burned a hole through his chest, but he knew it was directed towards the wedding gown.

"Do you want a knife?" Cruden deadpanned, watching as she stepped onto the fabric, wriggling her toes, as if the whole thing was beneath her level. Powerful emotions coursed through her once-blank features. Emotions that stirred his chest and rendered him speechless.

"I'd hand you a knife to slice the trash to pieces." Cruden crossed the distance between them. He had to peer down to look at her, the tip of her head barely grazed his shoulders. "But you'd cut yourself in the process." 

Roselia didn't react. She contemplated his words with her head bowed, revealing a sight that sent him seeing red. 

Cruden clenched his fingers into fists, seething out the words.

"Who did this to you?" Cruden snarled. His focus was glued on the messy mark of a crescent moon wrapped around a glaring "K." He ran his thumb over the area, already sensing this had long healed. She released a soft gasp, tensing under his touch and unable to meet his glare.

Cruden could feel her brain twist and turn for a proper answer. She touched her fingers together, buying herself time that he didn't have patience for. 

"Tell me."

Cruden reached for her chin, but she grabbed his wrist, peering helplessly upon him. The first time she had voluntarily touched him, and it was to deny him from her. Her fingers were soft and fragile, resembling icicles. 

Roselia inhaled, holding him suspended in this moment. Unable to look away. Unable to leave without the truth.

"You're scaring me." Roselia was a woman of few words.

Cruden's chest itched and irked with the realization that since the wedding, these were the first few words she said to him. In the car, she didn't even know his name. Her question had been directed at Noah. Not him.

Cruden clenched his teeth, his jaw pulsing. He dropped his hand. She released her grip, touching her necklace for comfort. She rubbed the paperclip heart between her fingers, an action all too familiar to her. She's done this many times before.

Finally, after a minute of ticking silence, Cruden spoke. "This is your bedroom. A maid will bring you food and clothes. Eat and then explore."

Cruden brisked past her, completely ignoring the surprise on her gentle features. He could hear her spin around to look at his disappearing silhouette. It took every fiber of control to not look over his shoulders, where she'd be standing by the doorway with newfound freedom.

Now that Roselia's out of her cage, what's the first thing she'd do? 

- - - - -

Roselia gulped down all the food served to her. Even the maid assigned to her was appalled, watching the woman take a bite of the sandwich in one hand while drinking soup with the other. She chewed ferociously, not pausing once to breathe.

"Relax," a voice mused from the door, causing the servant to jump back in fear, quickly bowing her head. "No one is going to steal that plate from you, Lia."

Roselia paused for a split second from her food, but continued scarfing everything down. When did Noah assign her that nickname? 

Abruptly, Noah presented her with a red rose with petals as bright as blood. She didn't move to take it. The thorns hadn't been snipped. She was no fool.

"I've been assigned to take you on a tour of the estate. Cruden is a busy man running a pack and conglomerate at the same time. And well, Kallum would rather gouge his eyeballs out than tolerate you," Noah continued, tucking the flower into her hair. 

Noah admired how beautiful the crimson appeared against her raven locks. Roselia finally raised her head, revealing the greenest of pupils that'd rival the peak of spring.

Noah inhaled in disbelief, seeing her in a completely new light with her piss-yellow sun dress. He touched the material in disdain, turning to the maid.

"Who brought this outdated last season designer?" Noah gritted, just as Roselia returned to eating without a care in the world. 

"I-I'm so sorry, sir, these were the clothes brought up to us by Sebastian," the maid squeaked out in fear, lowering her gaze to the powerful werewolf. She was trembling on the spot, her knees weak from how handsome he appeared even when annoyed. She couldn't help, but wonder who exactly this pampered and hungry lunatic was.

"Hah," Noah sighed in disappointment. "Leave it to that old-fashioned secretary to pick out the worst wardrobe for women. That's why his wife ignores him."

Roselia began to scrap the bowl dry. Noah picked up the ceramics instantly, frowning softly.

"You're not a beggar, Lia. Don't do that," Noah informed, gesturing to the door. "I need to take you on the tour, or else Cruden won't be happy." 

Roselia stared at the entrance, then, back at him. "I'm still hungry."

Noah blanched. "Alright, we'll stop at the kitchen too."

Finally, Roselia rose from the chair, waiting for him to show the way. He released a soft, genuine chuckle and placed the bowl down. He took her out the door where the entire walk downstairs was silent as a pin-drop. 

"In a somehow, twisted way," Noah said to her. "You saved my life when you ran away from me. I know you ran in the opposite direction as me, even though it was the farther route to Pack Fiore."

Roselia didn't say anything.

Noah continued rambling. "Kallum refused for us to meet Alpha Fiore, stating it was none of our business what happens to you, but I couldn't let that happen. It's because of you, I am still alive. Had Alpha Kerpan's men discovered my escape, I would've still been locked up."

Roselia glanced out every window she saw, eager to take in the scenery.

"Cruden didn't care, though," Noah said. "He was curious and crashed the wedding just to see if you were worth the trouble. And considering whose roof you're living under, whose surname you'll be receiving, it's safe to say, he sees value in you."

They reached the kitchen where Roselia was already opening the lids to various pots, revealing two different soups and dishes. Her eyes lit up, resembling a Christmas tree. She clamored through the drawers, searching for something. Noah presented her with a ladle. When he turned to hand her a bowl, she was already eating.

"I assume Alpha Kerpan starved you worse than me," Noah grimly realized, leaning against the obsidian countertops, watching her dig into the chowder. "I almost wondered if we were locked up near each other. In my battered and bruised state, I always remembered the door in the darkest part of the prison."

Roselia finally stopped eating. She dropped the ladle, turning to him. She opened her mouth, but froze.

They both did.

Roselia touched her nose, feeling something wet and warm. Blood. The rose fell from her hair, and at the same time, her body collided with the ground.

"Lia!" Noah roared, rushing towards her. He took her convulsing silhouette into his grip. He screamed her name repeatedly, but her eyes rolled back, her mouth moving a jar like a broken robot. She started to foam, shaking like a rabid dog.

Within seconds, Roselia went slack, her pulse nowhere to be found.