Chapter 29: The markings.
June 16 2026, 4:16pm.
Nyx’ara woke up to the sound of someone knocking at her door. In panic, her eyes snapped open and thinned as she took a moment to regard her surroundings.
A small sigh escaped her lips when she noticed she had slept by the door after crying herself to a stupor, but, shrugging it off, she rearranged her dress around her body, patted her face gently in case it was swollen from crying so much, and rushed to open the door.
She was met with gingerrrr. A full head of ginger!
For a moment, she blinked against the bedazzling smile being shown her way, a small frown etching its way into her face when she noticed the array of colors on this young girl’s body.
The young girl, Jemima, was dressed in a baby-pink blazer, an orange pleated skirt, a pair of brown Louboutins with the red bottoms peeking out, and she had the most beautiful shade of purple lipstick smeared across her lips.
She was a color bomb literally.
Nyx’ara gulped. "M-may I he-help you?"
For a moment, the girl did not speak. She merely stared at Nyx’ara like one would examine an object on display. Her trembling hands shot upward to Nyx’ara’s forehead who immediately flinched at the sudden contact.
"Girll, if there’s anyone here who needs anyone’s help between the two of us, then it’s you!" She muttered in a way that Nyx’ara could not ascertain if this was an insult or just her personality. However, before she could respond, the girl continued:
"Your temperature is a bit over the top," she said softly, ignoring Nyx’ara’s scrutiny, and with a snappy glance at her face, she added; "Have you been crying?"
She blanched. "N-no."
"Liar!" The strange girl snapped, rolling her eyes, and without another word, made her way into the room before Nyx’ara could make sense of what was happening.
She walked into the room casually like she owned the place, the subtle clicks of her heels clicking against the floor as she went.
When she arrived inside the room, she set her toolbox on the floor and plopped onto Nyx’ara’s bed, and with her eyes shut, she threw back her head and stretched.
"I am Jemima, a doctor, and I am here because I got an order from the Alphas to check on and attend to you."
Oh.
"From our conversation, I think they believe that you may have sustained some sort of injury or something... so, Lady Nyx’ara, can you show me the said injury?"
For a moment, Nyx’ara did not move an inch. She could not believe that the Alphas— because she had complained about being uncomfortable with Ivory, had looked for another doctor with a more bubbly, more eccentric personality.
She rolled her eyes at the thought, and with her fingers digging into the bottom of her top she shook her head slowly. "N-no."
"No, you do not want me to examine you or no, you do not have an injury?" Jemima asked, a flicker of worry crossing her features before it slowly disappeared and was replaced with a look of mild confusion.
She seems better.
"N-no, I d-do not ha-have an in-injury."
At Nyx’ara’s utterance, the look on the girl’s face softened. She rose to her feet, crossed the distance between them and held Nyx’ara’s fingers like it was one of the most precious things in the world.
The sudden contact... the sudden gentle contact made Nyx’ara gulp, and for a very split second, her resolve crumbled. Her chest felt tight and she was suddenly hit with the overpowering desire to let go... to open up to this girl. To expose her back.
The girl’s aura was that peaceful.
Jemima laced her fingers through Nyx’ara’s, pulling her gently towards the bed. After helping Nyx’ara sit on the bed, she took a step back, crouched, and folded her arms on her knees before continuing;
"I can smell the blood on you, pretty girl... I am a Lycan. My senses are heightened and trust me, I can never miss the scent of blood."
That made Nyx’ara gulp. She retracted her fingers from the girl’s, intertwined them on her lap, and settled for the same lie she had told Azriel earlier. "I-it is pe-period. I-I am on m-my period."
Electric silver eyes dragged down the length of her body. Jemima rose to her feet to plop into a chair a distance away from Nyx’ara.
Without another word, she looked away and began to pull out some items from her toolbox: a methylated spirit, some gauze, some antibiotics, a needle (just in case), and about two bottles of painkillers.
"I-I just said tha-that I am on-on my period!" Nyx’ara tried again, but this time, she was met with silence.
Jemima did not look up at her until she was done assembling all that she needed, and by the time she was done, she looked up, picked up the antibiotics, and said;
"First off, I know you are not on your damn period because there is clearly blood at the back of your top. Also, one of your injuries smells like it is about to get infected... so it is either you let me save you, or... I don’t know, we just let it fester."
The look of horror that crossed Nyx’ara’s face was instant. Her jaw dropped, her eyes widened. She let out a defeated sigh and began to take off her blouse, but because the blood on her back had dried up due to hours of being unattended to, her cloth had stuck to her skin, proving almost impossible to take off.
A loud cry slipped out of her lips when she forcefully ripped the top off, wincing when it came off with a wet sound, signifying that she may have pulled out a little bit of dried blood and partially dried-up skin.
"Urghh!"
Jemima rose to her feet, circled the girl because she hadn’t liked the sound her clothes had made as she had taken them off. She had half expected to see a large wound or something of the sort. She had expected it to be bad.
However, nothing prepared her for how bad.
The bottle of antibiotics in her hand skittered to the floor. Her hand froze in mid-air, her breath caught somewhere in her throat, and for the very first time in a long time, she felt tears pool in her eyes.
"Who did this to you?"
The words were soft, holding so much grief and so much emotion, it made Nyx’ara’s heart stumble. In shame, she lowered her head and squeezed her eyes shut, digging her fingers into her skirt now as she waited for Jemima to do something... anything.
"What animal hurt you like this?"
’My family,’ Nyx’ara wanted to respond but the words died in her throat before they could even be formed on her lips.
For some strange reason, she began to cry, her small shoulders quaking as a surge of emotions rushed through her.
However, just as Jemima was about to walk over to wrap her arms around Nyx’ara, and perhaps lead her to the bed, the door was pushed open and four large men crowded the doorway.
Nyx’ara’s breath hitched. She quickly picked up her discarded top, pressed it against her exposed chest, and frowned at the Alphas. "D-do you people ha-have any problem with kno-knocking?" She hissed.
But no one responded to her. No one even seemed as though they’d heard her speak.
Draven’s eyes went from Nyx’ara’s face to Jemima’s, and in a deep commanding voice, he snarled; "Turn around."
She froze and then slowly... very slowly... shook her head.
"N-no."
"Do not test me," he seethed. But she wouldn’t listen.
She met his gaze fiercely, and with her fingers still digging into the material, she hissed;
"No,"
The word was clear without any stutter, and that made Nyx’ara almost do a happy dance.
Almost.
That is until her eyes beheld the primal expression on the faces of the men before her.
Her body trembled like a leaf in the wind when Kieran stalked close, his strides sure and domineering. He didn’t question her. He didn’t try to force her to speak. He simply circled her, stood behind her, and felt the colour drain from his face when he saw markings on her back.
For a moment, no one moved or spoke and after what felt like an eternity, he finally did, but something in his voice had shifted. It sounded darker. Twisted. Pained. His voice sounded like his vocal cord had been dragged straight through hell.
He snarled; "Who did this to you?!"