(BL)Alpha Made
Chapter 206: In a den of wolves

Chapter 206: In a den of wolves

The smell of bacon filled the air. The fatty, sweet scent stirred the man who had been unconscious before, and groaning, he grabbed his head as soon as he sat up.

It pounded painfully, as if several hundred people were hammering away at his skull. He thought he could feel his brain pulsing in waves, and his body ached. He felt battered, and bruised, and groaning again, he heard the bed underneath him creak.

It wasn’t a sound he was used to hearing, or, at least, not one he’d heard in a while.

Freezing, Andrew shook off some of the fog that filled his head, but the pain remained. His face twisted with it, and he glanced around, trying to figure out where he was. He couldn’t see, and he had no idea where he would have put his glasses.

The whole place felt unfamiliar, and uncertain where he was, he tried to retrace all that had happened recently.

More pain, focused on his chest and heart, filled him, as he realised that he didn’t have a place to go back to that he could call his home. At least, not with Maxwell. Realising that made everything even worse, and the cotton mouth that Andrew realised he had felt like a tipping point.

He wanted to cry, but that felt like too much work. He wasn’t even sure what to do.

Looking around him at the blurry shapes and colours, Andrew was able to tell that he was in a bedroom. A smaller one, with a bed, and maybe a dresser? When he looked to the side, he found that the brown blurred shape nearby might be a nightstand. If he was looking for his glasses, that might be a good place to start.

Cautiously patting the area around him, he was able to tell that his guess was correct when he knocked his glasses off of the nightstand. Cursing, he bent, and regretted it immediately as the pain of his body pulsed. He was frozen, hunched over as he body radiated pain, his fingers brushing the edge of his glasses.

He remained in that position for a few long, immeasurable moments, before the pain passed enough that he was able to grab his glasses and put them on his face. Blinking several times as he adjusted, Andrew looked around the room once more.

He was clearly not in the hotel he had been in before, but the room felt...vaguely familiar. He felt like he’d seen that dresser before, and the bedframe of the bed...the wooden posts with the slate grey slightly warped paint...

Coming to a sudden realisation, Andrew felt his blood go cold as the smell of bacon still filled the air.

He wasn’t at the hotel, he wasn’t at his old apartment, nor was he even at Maxwell’s house. He was at May and Ford’s house. He was probably in their spare bedroom, which led him to believe that someone had found out where he was, and had taken him here.

He could only think of a handful of people who would do it, and the list got significantly smaller when he considered where he had been dropped off. Putting his head in hands, he pressed his fingers into his face, groaning as the pain, dry mouth, and everything else came back with a vengeance.

Fuck.

He knew he shouldn’t have drank. He really did, but with everything that had been going on, and with the stress of it all...there was a reason he mostly stayed away from it nowadays. He hated coming out of it. The feeling, the shame, the guilt. He couldn’t even remember the last few days after Maxwell had left him at the hotel, and even then, it was blurry. The emotions, the feelings, the words?

He could barely piece his own thoughts together, let alone what had happened in that time.

A soft knock came at the door.

"I can hear you moving about in there. Are you alright? If you feel a little bit less than like you’re dying, come on out. Lunch is ready, and I made sure it was something filling." May’s voice came through the door nearby, and Andrew winced. She didn’t sound upset, but that was half of the trick. May never sounded upset at first. She tried to lure you in, only to catch you at the last minute and berate you then.

Andrew was used to watching it happen from her scoldings of Rose. He had not expected that he would be on the receiving end any time soon, yet here he was. This had Rose written all over it, but Andrew didn’t believe for a second that she would do this on her own. She wouldn’t have known that anything was wrong without a word from Richard.

Damn Richard.

He really should give him a piece of his mind.

Andrew glanced around, looking for his phone, but unable to find it. Furrowing his brows, his head pulsing at the simple muscle movement, he gave up on patting the bed to see if it was there. He felt it wasn’t a jump if he made the assumption that if it wasn’t next to his glasses, it might be somewhere else in the house and not the bedroom.

That might have honestly been a safe conclusion. Who knew what Andrew would be like when he woke up? He didn’t even know. Sometimes he was calm, like he was now, while other times he’d been...well, not calm was what Andrew wanted to think of it, but deranged was probably more of a...realistic description.

Groaning, Andrew slowly put weight on his feet, feeling like he’d taken more of a beating then when he’d woken up after he’d been kidnapped. That alone felt like a ridiculous statement, but what could he do when he felt that it was true? His whole body felt like a giant, pulsing bruise, and he felt weak, shaky, and like a damn leaf. If a wind blew too hard, he was worried that he was going to blow over.

Making his way to the door, one step at a time, he placed his hand on the door and worried for a brief moment that he wouldn’t be able to open the door. His hands felt shaky, weak, and his grip didn’t feel as tight as it normally was. He somehow managed, and when he looked around him, the hallway felt unfamiliar.

"Up the stairs, Andrew!" May’s voice called, and Andrew gulped. He’d never realised that she would be able to tell where he was, but he guessed that had to do with their pheromones that they both shared.

It was an...odd feeling, since most of the other alphas around him were paired up and marked, so that they couldn’t sense others as well. May was the only one around him who was in a long standing relationship with someone who wasn’t an omega. It left a...strange feeling in his mouth as he realised that.

Holding onto the wall as he moved, Andrew made his way through the hallway. This must have been the redone basement, since he could tell that there were a few more rooms down here then before, and the large, empty space had finally been utilized. Andrew assumed, probably correctly, that they had made the change when they had done the kitchen renovations.

Getting up the stairs was hell. Each step took a lot out of him, the pain endless, and by the time he’d made it up the 10 or so steps, Andrew was gasping for breath, winded, and his lungs screaming. Sweat poured from him, his whole body shaking, but no one came to help him. It was a small gift, since Andrew knew that the reprieve he was experiencing right now was fake.

He was actually in a den with wolves, and they knew he had no escape. Andrew was going to be torn to shreds. He could feel it. He also knew it was justified. He’d behaved poorly, and he should...be scolded. Probably.

His Mom certainly wouldn’t be happy with his actions, and that alone filled Andrew with even more shame.

Regaining some of his composure, Andrew slowly made his way towards the kitchen, the dining room coming into view first. He had expected everyone to be here, a squad to interrogate him and berate him for his actions, but instead, he found just May. The large table they had sat at before was empty, and instead the small, two seater table in the kitchen was set. May, who had her back to him at the stove turned, glanced at him, and gestured to the small table.

"Sit down. I’ll get your plate ready." Andrew swallowed, unsure what to do in this situation. He knew, despite his own hesitation, that he really only had one option. So, slowly, he made his way towards the smaller table. He wasn’t exactly hungry, but he had no energy in him to argue with May either.

He had made it almost to the back of the first chair when May spoke again.

"There are pain killers, but you need to eat at least five full bites before I’ll hand them over. No drugs on an empty stomach, Andrew. I won’t have it." Andrew’s dry mouth suddenly felt drier as he stared down at the set table.

Only two place settings, but it so eerily mimicked how Andrew set the table for him and Maxwell that he couldn’t deny the similarities. Most of his small habits, especially involving cooking, came from May. She’d had a large impact on Andrew, and he was sure that his Mom had noticed, but she had never been jealous, or even angry. She had treated May well, even if she got along better with Ford.

Andrew found himself at an uncomfortable crossroads. He felt strange inside, and wasn’t fully able to put a name to the emotion inside of him either. He did, however, pull out the chair and slowly sat down.

May came over as soon as he had sat, and placed a greasy, messy plate of breakfast food in front of him. Hash browns, bacon, breakfast sausages, pancakes, eggs. It was a hangover dream, and Andrew’s stomach rolled in disgust. May let out a short laugh.

"Don’t look so excited. The food might get its feelings hurt." She teased, turning before coming back with her own plate.

Andrew took this moment to look at her as she sat down across from him. She was wearing a plain white t-shirt and a simple black skirt. On top of that she wore an apron, bright pink and floral patterned, and probably a gift from Ford. It didn’t scream Rose or Richard, but her careful, thoughtful husband who loved plants.

Her expression was thoughtful, her brown eyes focused as she grabbed a slice of toast off of a plate Andrew hadn’t even noticed was on the table between them. She began to butter it as Andrew continued to observe her and she smirked.

"Andrew, just shut up and eat, alright? I can feel all the questions you’re asking without moving your mouth, and I won’t answer any of them until you put some food in your mouth." She warned him, meeting his gaze with another smirk. "Now, do you need help? I can cut up your food for you again like you’re 8 years old and sick." Andrew flushed, dropping his head.

"N-No. I can do that." Andrew croaked, his mouth still dry. May laughed.

"Drink some water before you try to defend yourself, you fool." Her voice only held warmth, and slowly, Andrew’s shoulders relaxed as he began to pick at the piles of food she had made for him.