Coldsnap: The Billionaire Alpha's Fated Pregnant Princess (GL)-Chapter 435 - Giving A Hand, Taking The Head, Clawing For Laughs

Chapter 435: Chapter 435 - Giving A Hand, Taking The Head, Clawing For Laughs

Standing there in her CEO attire, she doesn’t ask me what’s wrong. Doesn’t question what I meant by what I just said.

> Stupid wolf. <

Doesn’t demand an explanation for why I stopped responding earlier. Or why I’m standing here with a half-butchered bear looking at the ground between us instead of at her face.

> Because I didn’t want to be seen, yet. <

Her eventual footsteps closer are intentionally heavy on the tarp. Giving me time to hear her coming. To object aloud, if I wanted to.

> I don’t. But I don’t want to be consoled yet, either. <

Clean snow that overtakes the smell of fat, bloody iron that is so much more potent than what congeals nearby, and a pomegranate undertone as my face droops toward her red blouse.

When her fingers brush over mine, I’m sure that’s what she intends to do. Then the knife in my hand is steadied and leaves my grip... while I’m still reeling from her scents up close.

The way you’d disarm someone who seemed to have forgotten they were holding a weapon in the first place. Slowly, coaxingly, but firmly.

> If I stop, I’m going to cry. Or shout. Or curl up inside that storage area with the door closed like it’s a nice, dark cave. I know I’m spiraling. That shutting down isn’t the answer. But... <

She doesn’t touch me again or *say* anything. Just moves past me toward the carcass and I watch out of the corner of my eye... as she starts to assess what has been done already and what still remains for me to do.

For her to finish in my stead. Even though I didn’t ask. Even though it *meant* something for me to do this alone, for my child. For her.

The first slice she makes into the exposed fat is a little clumsy. But she adjusts quickly and the second scoring line is better. Kyrie quickly notices how full the bucket is and gets another one.

Something I also should have noticed, but didn’t. Not this time. Though it looks like I *did* change it out at least once before she made it up here.

...I don’t remember that either. Feels like | Guardian’s Composure | is failing me again. A good thing I didn’t bother picking *it* as the pack buff.

"Thanks to whatever you did, the cold isn’t a problem. So you don’t have to stay up here alone, Citra."

Was it on my face? That I was thinking about the system...

"If you’d like, you can take a break to see to Asha while I help with this. He was still sleeping on Claire’s desk when I passed."

> So she checked on him before me. <

It would be easy to snap at anyone else other than my sweet wolf right now. With sharp words to evacuating the sadness by filling my heart with bile.

Her voice, however, is quiet an calm like a nurturer’s voice should be. Not pushing me to go or insisting I am being useless. Just offering the chance for me to take time and...

"Save everything. I won’t abide wasting this hunt after what it did to you."

A raspy complaint is all I can manage to give her. Something that has nothing to do with what I was feeling anymore.

Enmity for the beast died along with it that day. I now hold it only for myself when I think of how she is scarred from its claws.

Thanks to the scars on the roster, I’m being suffocated by this similar feeling. One that won’t get lighter by staying up here.

Floors and floors away from the woman I need to talk to and see how much she blames me for what might have happened. To see if she even *knows* what has happened.

"I’ll do my best. It’s been a while since I’ve done this, though. If you want to talk me through it, you could stay a little longer and-"

Not that this Alpha can understand what struggle is going through my head right now. It’s irritating me, even, that she isn’t trying to force me to tell her.

That’s she being so frustratingly good and restrained like always. Instead of being greedier and... actually...

> She might not have been ordering me to leave, but she’s almost begging me to stay. <

I realize she’s not *taking* this from me as she blabbers about me working alongside her. The woman is asking me to spend time with her here... if I don’t intend to retreat back inside.

I really *should*... go. Clean up. Hold Asha. Feed him. Then I should-

"Give me that."

My fingers close around the tool’s handle that she quickly re-offers at the sound of my voice. Not normal yet, but stronger than the last few times I used it.

I feel like I work a lot quicker than she does. Part of me thinks she was intentionally moving slow to annoy me. So I would take over again.

"Anything that I can do next to help?"

For the first time since she showed up, I actually look at those fire-opals. Looking at me like that, during that question which could have meant something more than about the stupid bear.

...I point to the contractor bag that I’ll need soon. For storing the guts and other internal organs. She turns to grab one immediately.

When I move the ladder into position, my hands clench onto the aluminum so hard I might deform it.

"You already did. Help. I think. Thank you."

"Always, Princess."

Both of us had spoken so low that it is a wonder that the roar of sustained wind allowed either of us to hear the other. Werewolf senses are a bit unfair... can’t just mumble under my breath!

I kneel and double check that the esophagus wasn’t leaking where I’d cut and tied it, then grip the brown furred head behind the ears and at the muzzle. Twist until I find its limit of motion. Torque sharply to sever the vertebrae.

Holding onto the trophy, containing the brains I’ll need to tan the hide and a set of eyeballs I intend to use for a certain matter, I sliced through the neck muscles still hanging stubbornly on.

A soft, throaty growl comes from right behind me after I stand. With the upside down decapitated bear head, I look over my shoulder to find glowing eyes holding her own throat. Staring at me with a look I don’t understand.

"...What?"

"I don’t want to say..."

"Really - what?"

> Does she think I’m going to slit her throat in her sleep or something? <

Kyrie’s fingers slip down, trailing the buttons on her shirt while she clears her throat. Is she scared or is she trying to look cute?

"You... I feel like you’re still sad."

For such a normally composed woman, she’s practically thrashing around with nervous motions.

"I am. But what does that have to do with you growling?"

"Don’t judge me for this."

> Cute, then. Clearly. <

"I can promise no such thing."

Open minded is what I would consider myself. I am after all on top of a roof without clothes on, still. Will really need to shower, again, before I-

"It’s just really sexy to watch you do... anything, usually. But that was a bit... more."

"Ah..."

Yes, it makes sense why she would be considered about my mental state. It rarely makes someone happy to be sexualized when they are depressed over the death of a friend’s niece.

Rarely...

"I didn’t get to *see* you kill it. Or Mateo. And I know this is just part of butchery, though you are skipping steps thanks to your strength, but-"

"Just stop talking, Pyārī. And if you fancy *any* of the next part of cutting the guts out at all, then we might have to have a serious conversation about your surprisingly violent predilections."

"I really don’t want to hear that from someone that just this morning made me-"

"La la LA LAAA~ No one else needs to hear that!"

...

Covering the snort that escaped her nose, I hear her chuckle a few times at my antics. Because I didn’t actually ’cover’ my own ears as is traditional...

I hugged down and covered those of the dead bear. She must have thought it was as amusing as I intended - and now, I can feel myself smiling.

> Proof that I can do something other than dragging her down to where I was. That I can claw my way back to normal instead of wallow. <

The feeling on my face is probably not all that bright of an expression. Awkward is the word.

But that... that sound out of her makes me feel even better than accidentally turning her on did. Probably...

Because I am very sure of myself over *that*. It’s the rest of me that I worry about her regretting.

Just like Anise probably is.