His Help

POV: Kinsley.

"What..." I gasped, frantically crossing my arms to cover my exposed breasts and my soft belly.

I was absolutely terrified as Zander stepped forward, his massive frame effectively cornering me in the tiny, cold space of the ladies' room. He blocked the only exit, shutting the door behind him. The air instantly became suffocatingly thick, completely overwhelmed by his intense, spicy cedar scent. It invaded my lungs with every panicked breath I took. His dark eyes were entirely wild, the pupils dilated so far they nearly swallowed his irises. His massive, highly muscular body was tightly wound and rigidly tense. He looked terrifyingly close to physically transforming into his massive wolf right there in the diner bathroom.

"You… It is you. What the hell happened to your clothes?" he demanded, his voice a rough, vibrating baritone that rattled against the tiled walls.

Before I could even formulate a thought, he leaned in impossibly close. The raw heat radiating from his large body washed over my bare skin. He buried his nose near the crook of my neck, aggressively sniffing my scent like a starving predator tracking its prey in the wild. The sheer size of him, the predatory way his chest heaved against the confined space, paralyzed me.

"I... I was just trying to change into the new uniform," I breathlessly stammered, my back pressing desperately against the hard, cold tiles behind me.

His dark gaze slowly dropped down from my face, completely ignoring my frantic excuse. His eyes dragged over the flimsy lace of my bra, sliding down the pale skin of my soft belly, before fixating intensely on my exposed white underwear barely hidden beneath the ruined, painfully tight fabric of the torn skirt.

"Take off your stupid uniform," he ordered with heavy, dominating authority.

"No! I'm in the middle of a shift!" I immediately refused, shrinking back as far as the wall would allow.

A deep, guttural growl ripped straight from the depths of his broad chest, reverberating in the small room. "You’re not going out like that. Over my dead body. No one is going to see you like that. I can see your underwear from here… is white."

I opened my mouth to argue, but in one swift, terrifyingly fast motion, his large, calloused hands moved directly to my ruined shirt. He grabbed the edges of the incredibly cheap material and violently tore the remaining sheer fabric completely apart. The horrific sound of shredding cloth filled the room as the few surviving buttons went flying across the tiles, pinging off the mirrors.

"What are you doing?!" I yelled, burning with intense, fiery humiliation and utter helplessness.

My shirt hung in useless, shredded ribbons. I desperately tried to cover my fully exposed chest, wrapping my arms tightly around my breasts to hide my pale skin from his intense, unblinking stare. I had never felt so utterly vulnerable, so completely physically exposed to a man, let alone the one who used to make my life a living hell.

Without breaking eye contact for even a fraction of a second, Zander swiftly reached up and unbuttoned his own premium, heavy fabric shirt. He violently shrugged out of the expensive garment, exposing his heavily muscled, deeply tanned, and scarred chest. Intricate, dark tattoos of wolves and sprawling geometric lines stretched across his thick pectoral muscles and down his rigid abdomen. He stepped directly into my personal space and practically forced my trembling arms into his oversized garment.

I tried to push him away, but his strength was entirely overwhelming. His thick, rough fingers were noticeably trembling as he gripped the edges of the dark fabric. He pulled the thick shirt tight across my chest, aggressively blocking my exposed body from his own view. With deliberate, shaking precision, he personally buttoned the oversized shirt up, starting from the bottom and working his way all the way up to my collarbone, ensuring every inch of my cleavage and belly was heavily concealed in his clothing.

I stood there breathing heavily, drowned in his heavy, intoxicating cedar scent. But the nightmare wasn't over. The moment the last button was secured, his large hands moved lower, reaching aggressively for the hem of my ridiculously short, painfully tight skirt.

My panic peaked instantly. "Let go of me!" I shouted, forcefully slapping his large hands away from my thighs.

He froze, his jaw clenching tight enough to shatter bone. His eyes flashed with a dangerous, primal light.

"Don't. Move," he unleashed a heavy, commanding Alpha tone.

It wasn't a request. It wasn't a suggestion. It was a raw, unfiltered supernatural command. Under the invisible, crushing weight of his binding alpha order, my human body stood completely frozen against my will. My muscles rigidly locked into place. I couldn't even force my vocal cords to scream. I was a prisoner in my own skin, utterly trapped as he slowly, deliberately adjusted my skirt.

His warm, incredibly large hands tugged at the tight fabric, deliberately touching the sensitive skin of my wide hips. His calloused thumbs brushed against the bare flesh of my upper legs, sending unwanted, cold jolts down my spine. The sheer physical intimacy of his hands sliding over my curves while I was physically paralyzed by his supernatural voice was deeply violating and confusingly terrifying. He made sure the skirt was pulled down as far as the cheap material would allow, his knuckles heavily grazing my hips one last time before the crushing weight of his command suddenly lifted.

The second I regained control of my limbs, I gasped for air. I finally managed to break his hold, aggressively shoving my shoulder against his solid chest to slip past his towering, heavily muscled frame. I slammed the bathroom door open and escaped the suffocating bathroom, fleeing back out into the noise of the diner.

But back on the chaotic diner floor, my absolute nightmare was far from over.

The heavy dinner rush was in full swing. The loud, boisterous laughter and aggressive posturing of visiting werewolf packs filled the room. Zander’s intoxicating, heavy cedar and spice scent still deeply lingered on the heavy fabric wrapping my body. The shirt hung down to my mid-thighs, completely swallowing my frame, but it was the only thing standing between me and walking out onto the floor half-naked.

Serving his specific table of Alphas was an absolute, undeniable nightmare. The Sanguine Talons pack had taken over the massive center booth. Zander was seated right in the middle of them, his heavy jacket pulled over his bare chest, his face completely unreadable and stone-cold.

"Waitress… yeah, you, the fat one," Varg sneered loudly, his booming voice intentionally drawing the attention of the entire crowded room. "We need better wine, fatty. Do you know what I’m talking about, or do you need me to spell it out for your slow human brain?"

I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, swallowing the burning lump in my throat. I forced myself to walk over to the large wooden table, my hands visibly shaking as they gripped the heavy serving tray. The heavy pheromones of multiple dominant alphas sitting in one place made the air incredibly thick and hard to breathe.

When I nervously reached across the table and handed Zander his specific crystal glass, he reached out to take it. As the glass transferred hands, his rough fingers deliberately brushed against mine. The physical contact was intentional and heavy, sending a sharp, electric jolt straight up my arm. I snatched my hand back instantly, my heart pounding painfully against my ribs. I thought he would be disgusted to touch me in front of his pack, yet he stared a hole straight through me.

Soon after, the situation devolved rapidly. Varg, entirely unsatisfied with my presence, maliciously and deliberately swiped his arm across the table. He violently smashed his expensive crystal glasses directly onto the hard diner floor. The loud, sharp sound of shattering crystal echoed through the room.

"This wine sucks! I asked for a better one!" Varg yelled obnoxiously, aggressively complaining about the supposedly bad quality.

The diner went briefly quiet before other alphas started grunting and laughing in agreement. Silas, the manager, was running wildly across the floor, completely overwhelmed. I had absolutely no choice. Forced to clean it to avoid getting fired, I slowly knelt down on the hard floor right beside Varg's boots to pick up the jagged, shattered pieces.

As I reached out to grab a large, sharp chunk of crystal, my foot slipped slightly. My bare knee slammed directly into a jagged shard on the floor, deeply cutting the sensitive skin. A sharp hiss of pain escaped my lips. Blood welled up instantly, thick and hot red, aggressively dripping down my shin.

I flinched, clutching the broken glass, and instinctively looked up.

I saw Zander’s face sitting just a few feet away. His jaw was locked, his eyes darkened, and his features were twisted in a violent, heavily suppressed anger. His knuckles were completely white as he gripped the edge of the wooden table. He looked absolutely furious. Yet, he sat there. He cowardly did absolutely nothing to stop the harassment. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't use his commanding Alpha tone on his pack members. He just watched me bleed on the floor like a servant.

"Did you see the chubby one? She looks even worse than before. Gross!" one of the visiting alphas from across the booth sneered loudly, openly pointing and mocking my bleeding, kneeling form.

"Awful! It’s a good thing she’s no longer among the wolves! She would absolutely ruin our reputation," another alpha laughed, kicking a small piece of glass closer to my bloody knee.

I looked at Zander, a silent, desperate plea in my chest, completely humiliated.

Zander only looked away, staring firmly at the far wall. He cowardly muttered a low, vibrating, growling response under his breath, "I guess she moved here..."

Varg snorted, leaning back in the booth and kicking his heavy boots up. He continued to loudly complain to the entire table about my "disgusting human scent" ruining his appetite. I kept my head down, tears aggressively burning the back of my eyes, and finished picking up the bloody glass in complete, crushing silence.

By the end of the grueling, absolutely humiliating night, I was physically and mentally exhausted. My knee throbbed with a sharp, stinging pain with every step I took. The diner finally closed, the aggressive packs finally cleared out, and the suffocating pressure of the shift ended.

Still wearing Zander’s large, premium fabric shirt because I literally had nothing else to put over my ruined uniform, I began the long walk home. The dark, cold streets of the town were completely empty. The biting night wind whipped against my bare legs, sending a chill deep into my bones. The heavy fabric of the oversized shirt was entirely filled with Zander’s deep cedar and spice scent, heavily wrapping around my body and constantly reminding me of his aggressive, violating touch in the bathroom.

I walked alone, hugging my arms tightly around my chest, desperately wishing for the comforting presence of my brothers. I just wanted to sit in our small living room, eat a quiet dinner, and forget this horrific day ever happened.

I kept my head down, listening to the crunch of gravel under my cheap shoes as I approached the edge of the dark, dense forest that bordered the town limits. The shadows stretched long and menacingly across the road.

Suddenly, a deep, heavily familiar voice intercepted me, violently breaking the silence of the night.

"We need to talk."

I gasped, stumbling backward. Zander stood there waiting directly in the heavy shadows of the tree line. His massive silhouette blocked the path. He was standing completely alone in the freezing cold. His heavy leather jacket was half-open, fully exposing his bare, heavily muscular, and tattooed chest to the freezing night air. His thick arms were crossed over his stomach, his dark, piercing eyes locked entirely onto me, tracking my every single micro-movement.

I stopped dead in my tracks. I tried my hardest not to panic, taking a shaky breath as the heavy scent of cedar rushed into my lungs again. Staring at his massive, highly tense frame standing between me and the safety of my home, I suddenly realized something with profound, terrifying clarity.

I was no longer as afraid of the wild, violent rogues hiding deep in the woods as I was of the massive, dominant, and entirely unpredictable alpha standing directly in front of me in the dark.