The Alpha Donated His Kidney to Make Sins
Chapter 3
"Shut your trap!" Preston lunged forward, barking it sharp. Madeline hooked her foot out, riding the momentum to slam it square into my ribs.
I staggered, claws scrabbling at the doorframe to stay upright-three lurching steps before I locked in.
My gut throbbed like fire, and the muddy boot-print blooming on my chest burned just as fierce.
I stared at that gray smudge, numb. It was a brand of shame, summing up my whole sorry bond in one filthy mark.
Preston, cracking under his own cool? A sight for sore eyes.
Too bad it was over a streetwalker from the wrong side of the tracks.
I'd dug into her dirt: just some low-rent she-wolf who had him jumping at shadows, fretting, losing his head.
And now? Riding my coattails to claw at my throat.
I dragged my eyes up slow, cold sweat stinging into them, smearing Preston's face into a blur that didn't match the wolf who'd once set my pulse racing.
Maybe we'd both turned into ghosts of ourselves.
"Clean yourself up before you head out-I bound with a lady, not some rabid stray." His words landed flat, like frost on glass.
"Preston," I tilted my head, flashing teeth in a crooked smile, "how the hell are you still breathing?"
I lunged, utility knife from my palm slashing for his throat.
Second time I'd stuck him, and he froze solid, mind blanking out.
Even as Robert and Helen scrambled to yank me off in a tangle of paws, he just gawked at my eyes, voice cracking like thin ice. "You really... want me dead?"
My eyes burned red, the "yes" scorching my throat-until Helen's screech sliced it off. "She's... she's bleeding buckets!"
Every head whipped her way-and there it was, a dark stain unfurling across my skirt, deepest at the root of my thighs.
"Crystal!" Preston jackknifed up, ignoring his own gash, scooping me close. Panic edged his voice for the first time ever. "What's wrong? Somebody... get the ride! Now!"
My vision tunneled, unfocused, but my grip locked on the hallway rail like a lifeline, breath whispering out. "Guards... get me to the healer's... guards... housekeeper..."
"I'll take you! You'll pull through, I swear..." Preston fumbled at my fingers, prying frantic-couldn't budge 'em.
"I don't buy it!" I wailed, raw and ragged. "You wouldn't lift a paw for me-you never gave a damn... you won't... Guards! Guards! Help!"
Only when the she-guard's paw closed over mine did I let go, slumping into the dark.
Preston cradled me all the way to the ride, his hand cupping my head trembling feather-light.
All these years, he'd braced for my snarls, my flares-always on the attack.
Never this: me, frail as a wind-whipped reed.
Drenched in sweat and blood, the fierce string I'd been drawn tight on his account withered to a splinter-ready to snap at a breath.
He pressed his cheek to my clammy one, murmuring "It's okay" over and over...
No telling if it was for me. Or him.
I came to in the dead of night, room swallowed by shadows.
"Crystal, how you holding up? Want me to fetch the healer?" The she-guard hustled over.
Just her and the male guard in the house.
"Where's Preston?" My voice scraped out soft.
"Madeline... she's in for the night. He bolted to the next room an hour back."
She paused, then added, "Your sire rang. Told him you were out with the girls."
"Good call." I snagged my phone, scrolled to the stockpile of vids I'd kept handy in the gallery, and fired off one of me sipping cocktails at a lounge-enough to ease Dad's mind.
Logged out, and bam-a new friend request pinged.
I tapped accept, and "Madeline" unloaded a barrage of pics.
*That day I lost the pup, Preston stuck by my bedside, conked out right there on his paws.*
*Midnight, I rang him sobbing about the empty ache-he raced over to hold me, still in his healer's scrubs.*
*Just now, I whined about my gut, and he spoon-fed me porridge, peeled fruit like a pro. Crystal, you know how slick your mate is with a blade on an apple?*
I stared at that pic: one perfect peel, thin and even, knife work like a surgeon's.
In my head, I echoed: *No clue.*
*Hate me all you want, Crystal-Preston's got my back, and that's plenty. You bleeding out like that? Pitiful. So I nudged him to pop in and check on you.*
A minute ticked by. Then Preston pushed through the door.
He fixed on me, those deep eyes churning with something I couldn't pin down.
Right on cue, the head healer bustled in. Preston jumped her. "Why... why the hemorrhage?"
She shot him a puzzled glance.
Opened her mouth to lay it out: the miscarriage aftermath, skimping on that first moon's rest.
