Open Your Hand

A LOW hum flowed through the air and Valeric plopped onto the sofa opposite the one she was lying on. He crossed his legs and folded his arms, with the sole purpose of watching and studying her. 

How could she be so afraid of him, she ends up teary, yet she wouldn't listen to him at the same time? He clearly wanted her to sleep on the bed, but she chose the sofa. A sofa… 

It didn't make sense to him. 

He lifted an eyebrow, curiosity scratching up his chest to his throat. By merely touching her hand, he'd felt the spark, and though it was tiny and barely felt, it was still there. The feel of the shock sizzling on his palm still lingered. 

The man lowered his gaze to his palm. He tried to convince himself that it was only a matter of time before she would get over those rumors, but it still gnawed at him from inside. Not to mention she probably didn't feel the spark he felt. It was illogical. 

She should have felt it too, no matter how little it was. Wasn't that how it felt between mates? Or was he truly mateless, that the spark was only probably a hallucination because he was desperate for one? 

"Doesn't matter." He stood up and walked over to the sofa, where Stella lay. His eyes swept over her small frame for a moment, and he picked her up. He moved to the bed, laid her down, and proceeded to lie next to her.  

Her scent was lovely, and it was unlike anything he'd ever smelled from any omega before. It was gentle, tender, and sweet, he felt his entire system relax each second it crossed his nose, which made him ponder how a recessive omega could have such a scent. 

Recessive omegas were weak in every aspect, and so was their scent. The majority of them bear unpleasant scents, but Stella was different. Something about her was complicated, and he couldn't pin his finger on it. 

Valeric wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his embrace. He hugged her tightly to himself, almost as if he wanted to bury her within him, and rested his face in the crook of her neck to inhale more of her scents. 

"Wife," he mumbled to himself and shut his eyes, the half mask still on his face.  

…. 

The sunrise was bright very early in the morning the next day. Its ray showered through the floor-length glass window, burning the entire room in its natural light. 

Stella yawned and rubbed her eyes open with her hand. She sat up on the bed and looked around with half-sleepy, blurred vision. Her brows creased, and she suddenly realized that she wasn't on the sofa. She was sure she'd slept on the sofa. 

Why was she on the bed then?  

She blinked faintly and climbed down from the bed to walk into the bathroom, but she came to an immediate stop at the glimpse of something placed on the mini table next to the couch. She approached it, and her brow shot upward, seeing that it was a ceramic bowl, flat plates, and eating utensils. 

He brought her food. 

But Stella had no appetite. It wasn't possible when she was aware it was only a matter of time before he would get rid of her as he'd done with the other omegas he'd taken. She was sure her family wouldn't even feel mere pity for her were she to be on the news sooner or later. 

Her stomach twisted nastily, and she rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.  

————— 

"Where is my wife?" Valeric walked in through the glass door. Due to his personal issues to deal with, he'd been gone since the day before and only returned the morning after. He had left Stella in the care of the headmaid, a middle-aged, chubby female beta. But even still, he found himself constantly wondering how she was doing. 

The head maid, Maurene, bowed and straightened up with an apologetic look. "I'm not sure what is wrong with her, sir. But she has refused to eat, no matter how many times I tried." 

Valeric averted his gaze sternly from the maid to the stairs that led up to the second floor.  

"Not even a bite?" 

The maid shook her head. "Not at all." 

His dark eyebrows arched upwards, displeased, unpleasant, and unrelentless with their disregard. "You may take your leave." 

The doors of the glass elevator opened, and he stepped out. His steps were heavy as he approached his master bedroom. She was in there, her scent was heavy, and it'd made him wonder if she'd left the room even once.  

He entered and closed the door behind him. His eyes searched around and stopped on his wife, who sat on the floor with her legs curled to her chest and her head buried in her knees. 

This earned a deep frown from him. 

"What are you doing down there?" His voice seemed even deeper that morning, so deep that it flowed straight through Stella's chest like an arrow.  

And she was quick to raise her head and meet his heavy gaze. Her lips pressed together into a trembling line, and she didn't say a word in response to his question. 

Valeric's polished shoes stepped towards her, his tall frame growing nearer and nearer. He squatted down to be at eye level with her and tilted his head at her clenched hand.

"Open your hand." 

Stella didn't.

He had to keep his suitcase by the side, grab her hand, and force her grip open. Something cold flashed across his eyes as they fell on the gold ring in her palm. 

"I didn't give you this. Who did?"  

Burning sweat broke through Stella's skin, and each pound of his words thrummed in her ears. "It's no one."  

"Liar." His tone was tainted with a growl. "There is one right on your finger. You don't need this." He crushed the ring with his gloved hand, disfiguring its shape in a mere instant. 

What an inhumane strength even for a supreme alpha. 

It wasn't clear who gave her the ring, but another man's scent was on it, specifically a standard alpha. 

Stella's eyes grew wide in shock, and she immediately got on all fours to glare at him with hateful eyes. 

"Why?!! How could you do that?!!" But to the pounding of her heart, her voice seemed so small and frail.