THE ALPHA’S ADDICTION

BACK TO THE PACK



Emma furrowed her eyebrows as she appeared in front of her house with Prescott. It seemed like ages since she had been here. The white house still remained the same. There were no signs of anything peculiar or extraordinary. It was just there. But that wasn’t why she had thinned her gaze; no, it was the darkness of the night. Hadn’t it been a few minutes past six that they had disappeared from Lily’s room? So, why was it dark here like it was half past seven?

“Prescott…” She called the squirrel, turning aside to look at him, but balking when she didn’t see him or smelt him. What the hell! Had the squirrel just dropped her here, and left? Had Zipfarah commanded him to do so? Why couldn’t she even scent him? That was weird. She thought, feeling a variety of emotions. There was anger and sadness, there was disappointment already, and of course, fear. All around her, there was dead silence, eerie silence. It felt creepy for some reason, scaring her the more.

Perhaps, it was because she hadn’t been here for a long time. She thought, wrapping her arms around herself to tune down the biting coldness which seemed to be ravaging her the more she stood still outside. She had to go inside. She decided, taking some steps to walk up to the porch.

But as she was dealing with that, the front door opened, causing her to freeze in her steps, her breath seizing, her eyes and ears wide and alert, her inner energy already sizzling, ready to strike if something out of the good books happened. She wouldn’t let anything happen to her that night, not when she had come this far.

She mused, cussing repeatedly, her breath being released as she spotted Prescott coming towards her. Surprisingly, he was tiptoeing. It was funny to watch. She would have burst out into laughter there and then but for the placement of his index finger straight on his lips.

He was clamoring that she should not, she should keep shut.Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

But that didn’t include whispers, right? She thought, her curiosity growing as she wondered what could be wrong. Were some people in her house? She queried, remembering the last incident that had happened in the house the last time she had been here, the last incident that had marked her last presence in the house; the issue of the dead meat. She wondered if the perpetrators were right there. But how could they know that she was coming in today? What was wrong with these people? Why were they so resilient in having her?

“What is wrong?” She whispered, squatting to Prescott’s height, as he got to her.

“You know, you don’t have to talk out loud. We can communicate telepathically.” he stated telepathically, crossing his arms across his chest, standing tall.

“Oh, right.” Emma communicated back. She had forgotten that for a moment, her zeal to receive gist overtaking her common sense.

“What is the problem?” She asked. “Why were you tiptoeing? You looked so funny doing that.”

Prescott huffed, not believing the girl in front of him. Her house was filled with a band of witches and here she was thinking that his steps were funny. Lucky for her that the Queen had thought it right to send him with her; for he didn’t know how she would have been able to defeat the band even with her powers. It could be possible, but she hadn’t been trained yet. She needed to know how, when and where to display that strange power of hers. He had cause to believe that they haven’t seen the start of it, not to mention half.

When he had appeared with her, he had sensed that they weren’t alone, and so even though the force was stagnant, not moving to attack them, he thought it well to check it out, not wanting to fail in his mission one bit. That had sponsored him to slip into the house as mist, undetected by the redhead. He had been amazed when he had seen a couple of wizards, for they had been all male, lying in wait for her-he was sure of that. But how had they known that she was coming in today? Had they already found out the strange bond between her and the wolf boy? But fortunately for them, the wizards were sleeping. It seemed that they had been waiting for a long time.

“We have to leave now.” He said, holding her hand, but she jerked it away.

He sighed as he watched her fold her arms across her chest. She was in to drag it out with him. Sadly, he didn’t have the time for that, and then, there was the promise he had made with the queen. He would just mention the matter and get over it.

“There are a band of wizards in your sitting room, like ten. They are waiting for you, perhaps to capture you for Leonarya. I believe that they are from her.” He replied, feeling a bit sorry for her when he watched her face get clouded with fear and other emotions bordering on anger and tiredness.

He didn’t blame her. She was too young for this. Sadly, there was no way around it. She had to embrace it. The sooner, the better.

“They knew I was coming then.” she said, and he nodded.

“We have to go.” He stated again, to emphasize the urgency of the matter.

“Do you know any friend of yours that we could visit, and stay for the night? Your wolf friends can help us out tomorrow with the wizards at your house.” he mentioned, and Emma nodded.

“Yes, I do.” she replied, remembering Ava.

“But what about my clothes and other necessities?” she asked, looking crestfallen. She can’t possibly go to Derek’s birthday looking like this. She had to tone up her beauty, make him go gaga the more. She smiled wistfully, thinking of the look on his face when he saw her again, but Prescott tapped her, bringing her back to reality.

“Get your mind off the clouds. This is not the time and place for your vain thoughts.” he said, turning up his lips. Obviously, he had read her thoughts-that alone embarrassed Emma. A blush coated her cheeks in agreement.

“Which dress do you have in mind to wear? Picture it, together with the necessities that you had mentioned. I would see and read the image off your mind, then go in and bring them out for you.” He stated, casting wry glances towards the house and their surroundings, apparently unsettled.


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