Chapter Four
Griffin checked the camera frequently during the night, even though he knew they had people on guard duty watching it, and the cottage, too. The alpha didn’t stir until a few hours after the sun came up. He watched with interest as the shifter explored his environment, surprised but not shocked that he stayed mostly on all fours, moving on four legs as if unaccustomed to walking on two. Around lunchtime, he decided the alpha had had enough time to acclimatize. Besides, he’d need food soon, and the only way to get that to him was going to be by bringing it there. He declined Ronan’s offer to do that himself or to send an armed group.
“How will we gain his trust if we act like his jailers? Just me and some food. It’ll give him a chance to learn that we mean him no harm.”
“I’m more worried about him meaning you harm than the other way around,” Ronan said, folding his arms.
“Trust me, Ronan, I am very aware of just how far that chain stretches. I won’t step within reach, I give you my word.”
His word was just about enough, the alpha nodding with the air of someone giving in rather than someone agreeing.
He gathered food and water from the kitchen, keeping it simple, and set off through the woods. By his reckoning, it would be less intimidating for the alpha to hear a single set of footsteps than the engine of a vehicle. He’d know Griffin was coming minutes before he arrived, and, if the wind was kind, he’d catch his scent before they set eyes on each other. He hadn’t bothered dousing himself in beta scent. As an omega, he’d seem less threatening.
The alpha was waiting in the doorway of the cottage when Griffin stepped out of the trees. A growl carried through the air, and he halted, watching carefully. The alpha crouched close to the ground, his eyes not wavering from Griffin. But he made no attempt to rush forward or break free of his chains. Griffin decided it was a warning rather than an outright threat and kept going, deliberately slowing his pace.
He stopped at the end of the short path that led to the cottage door, deciding that was close enough for now. Setting what he’d brought down on the ground, he crouched, mirroring the alpha’s body language, but doing his best to make himself look smaller and weaker. Not a threat. Not a danger. Just an omega.
The alpha’s intense gaze didn’t wander, but there seemed to be a hint of curiosity behind it. Maybe that was Griffin’s imagination, or maybe the alpha really was wondering what the hell was going on. Griffin could imagine only too well what it felt like to wake up somewhere wholly unfamiliar, not knowing where the danger lay. Right now, he guessed, the danger lay with him.
“Hello,” he said, speaking softly enough that he wouldn’t hurt the alpha’s ears, seeing as he was sure the other man was straining to hear every last sound. “My name is Griffin. This is Briar Wood. You’re very welcome here.”
The alpha growled again, baring his teeth this time.
“I’m sorry about the chains. We got rid of as many as we could, but we couldn’t risk anyone getting hurt. We’ll take them off as soon as it’s safe.”
The feral shifter scented again, deeper, and cast his gaze around. There was a hint of confusion there, but Griffin wasn’t sure what was behind it: his words, the surroundings, or simply his presence. Alpha fighters didn’t typically see a whole lot of omegas, not up close, anyway.
Reaching for the bag he’d packed, he took out the food, a cooked leg of meat, holding it up so the breeze caught it, dragging its smell toward the other man. That certainly got his attention, his eyes snapping to the meat as he took in the scent. The next part was tricky. Griffin wanted to get it close enough that he wouldn’t have to throw it at the alpha but not so close that the alpha picked him as a meal instead. They’d measured the stretch in the chain, so he knew how far down the path he could venture before he’d be within reach.
“It’s just some food. For you. You must be hungry.”
Carefully, he inched up from his crouch and began to take small, shuffling steps, toward the alpha. The other shifter didn’t seem to know how to react. He growled, tensed, raised up onto his legs, but didn’t move forward or back, holding his position. And his eyes were still on the food and not on the fast-beating pulse in Griffin’s neck.
Once he’d gotten as close as he dared, Griffin crouched again and tossed the food, letting it roll toward the alpha’s feet. It seemed the other man had anticipated the move, as he didn’t react to it, but simply kicked the food behind him as if to protect it. It was a clever choice, because if Griffin wanted to get to the food now, he’d have to get past the alpha to do so.
Instead, he backed off, going for the bottle of water he’d left on the path. This was going to be trickier. If the alpha turned and went to eat the food, he could probably risk scooting closer and leaving the water within reach. But, seeing as the alpha seemed content to simply stare him down instead, it looked like he’d need another plan.
Carrying the water back toward the growling shifter, he slowed his pace.
“This is water. You’re going to be thirsty, especially once you’ve eaten. And it’s hot out.”
Still, the alpha growled. Probably, Griffin reasoned, because there was no scent from the water, no evidence of what it was. As he moved closer, the alpha took a tentative step toward him, as if to warn him off. Griffin slowed to a stop, crouched, and opened the water bottle. Lifting it, he tipped it slowly, pouring some of the water over his face before swallowing a mouthful.
Then he set the bottle down on its side on the ground and rolled it forward. There was a slight incline from the house up to the forest, so the bottle rolled down easily. The alpha stared at it, his hands tensed, and Griffin half expected him to punch or kick it away. Water spilled out the side of it and it came to a stop just in front of the alpha. The feral shifter leaned in cautiously, his eyes still on Griffin and then he started to lap at the little puddle of water that had spilled onto the ground.
It was such a pitiful sight that Griffin forgot himself and just stared. This shifter was so lost, more lost than any of the souls he’d met in his twenty-two years. And little of what he’d seen before seemed like it would help with this. How did you separate the man from the beast when the two became so intertwined, so locked together, that they seemed to be one animal, one tormented creature?
Slowly, he stood and walked backward up the path, keeping the alpha in view the whole time. Ronan would give him hell if the alpha caught him unawares throwing the water or the food back at him. His departure distracted the alpha from lapping up the water, and he stared at Griffin again. There was something else in his eyes this time. Griffin liked to hope it was a gleam of understanding, that something was getting through.
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he promised. “More food. More water. Tomorrow.”