Chapter 4 Kiss

Ivy’s POV

I can feel his presence close to me. It burns me, suffocates me with terror. I feel like cornered prey - completely helpless in front of my tormentor.

Slowly, a hint of defiance courses through me. It makes me tighten my fists against the fear running through me in waves.

After all, I am innocent of what he is accusing me of. I shouldn’t cower like this!

A small faltering breath leaves me, and with great courage, I open my eyes and lift my gaze back up to look at him, terrified of what he is about to do.

My breathing stops as I take him in, and my heart pounds frantically in my chest.

He is watching me with a dark kind of hunger in his eyes. His irises have dilated, and his eyes have almost taken on a deep, black color. Slowly, he watches the swell of my breasts and the way my chest heaves up and down in terror. He hasn’t touched me, and yet I feel the heat of his fingers on my skin.

My shoulders are shaking now, and my pulse is wild as I wait for him to do something.

Hurt me. Break me. Make me suffer.

He takes one more step forward, and the front of his boots hits my bare toes. My entire body flinches due to his proximity.

He is so much bigger than I am. I feel small, powerless, completely vulnerable. He could crush me in a heartbeat if he felt like it.

Scared tears once again fill my eyes, but I hold them back with sheer will.

I will not cower. I will not cower. I will not cower-

I say the words over and over in my head as I see him lift his fingers towards my face. They are just centimeters away from my throat. Just moments away from my skin.

A wave of terror so strong goes through me, and despite my best efforts, tears fall from my eyes. I watch in horror as they drop on the back of his hand.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

They slide between his fingers and rest against his skin.

They are stains of my helplessness in the moment; of his complete power over me.

I feel him freeze, and my breath hitches as his wolfish eyes zero in on my tears on the back of his hand.

I don’t move. Don’t breathe. Don’t make a sound.

Slowly, he lifts his eyes to my face and traces my features. I wonder what he sees there. Is it just a scared little girl completely at his mercy? Because God knows I feel like one.

To my shock, something in him gives. For a fraction of a second, his eyes lighten. Just a crack of light blue amidst the darkened black. A sheen of softness that breaks through the cold of his gaze.

My lips part as the harsh angles of his face lose their edge, and an unreadable emotion passes through him.

And, just like that, it’s over.

His harsh mask is back in place, his eyes narrow as his fingers drop, and he takes an abrupt step back.

Like he cannot bear to be in my presence anymore.

When he speaks, once again, his voice is devoid of all emotion. The anger, the flash of hunger, the fury - all gone. Instead, he watches me like I mean nothing to him.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says finally, tone clipped. “You can wear whatever you want to. You would still never come close to looking like she would have in this dress. It’s not the dress, it’s the woman herself, and you will never compare.”

A flash of hurt slithers through me, but I try to mask it. I know this could have gone much worse. I know he is letting me off easy. If his fury was anything to go by, he could have seriously hurt me.

Instead, he just walks away, leaving me unscathed.

The breath leaves my body, and relief makes my knees weak.

Slowly, I slide down the wall and bury my head in my arms - my tattered dress falling open around me.

____________________

If a small part of me had thought that Alexander had gone easy on me, I was dead wrong.

No, instead, he had walked away knowing he had a more cruel revenge planned against me.

I was never more sure of the fact until now - the very next day.

I stand shivering in the open-air wedding venue - grand, expensive, and overbearing, stuffed with nobility and powerful people.

A venue truly fit for the wedding of a Lycan king.

Except, he is not here.

He hasn’t been here for hours now.

I clutch the bouquet in my trembling hands, the stems digging into my palms as I try to steady myself. The murmurs of the guests reach my ears, their words slicing through me like knives.

They mock, they speculate. They take in my pale face and the way I tremble under the thin fabric of my new wedding gown, a last-minute replacement after the previous one was destroyed.

"Where is the Lycan king?" one of the nobles whispers, her voice dripping with scorn.

"Perhaps he’s had enough of her already," another one laughs, a cruel edge to his tone.

The paparazzi are relentless, their cameras flashing in my face as they capture every moment of my humiliation. My father stands off to the side, flanked by other prominent politicians. His eyes bore into me, his lips pressed into a thin line.

I can see the disapproval in his gaze, the way he blames me for this mess. As if I had any control over Alexander’s actions. As if I wanted any of this.

I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it’s too big, too painful. My eyes sting with unshed tears, and I blink rapidly, refusing to let them fall.

I can’t break down here, not in front of all these people. Not when they’re already so eager to see me fall apart.

I glance up at the sky, the dark, ominous blood-red moon glaring down at me, filling me with dread. Hours have passed since the ceremony was supposed to start, and still, there’s no sign of Alexander.

I knew this wedding was a formality for him, a show for the nobles and the paparazzi. If it were up to him, we wouldn't be standing here at all.

He hates this, hates me, and yet, here I am, waiting for a man who might never show up. My heart clenches at the thought, fear coiling around it like a serpent.

What if he doesn’t come? What if he’s really decided to leave me at the altar, to humiliate me in the worst way possible?

The cold seeps into my bones, and I shiver, feeling impossibly alone.

"Please," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. "Please, just let this end."

I don’t know who I’m begging - Alexander, the moon, the universe - but I just want this nightmare to be over.

The murmurs around me grow louder as the guests start to shift, glancing at their watches, preparing to leave. Just as a few people make the first move to depart, a sudden rush of motion silences the crowd.

And then, I see him.

Alexander strides into view, dressed entirely in black, from his tailored suit to the leather gloves on his hands. He looks like he’s heading to a funeral, not a wedding.

The shame burns hot in my cheeks as he approaches the stage, his presence commanding every eye in the venue.

He stops briefly to speak with my father and a group of nobles, his tone commanding and measured.

“Gentlemen, sorry for the delay. I came across a little kitten stuck in a tree, and my good conscience didn’t allow me to leave the innocent creature up there.”

I hear his smooth voice as he utters the unbelievable words. His eyes meet mine over the top of their heads, and there’s nothing saintly about the smirk that curls his lips. It’s wicked, scornful, as if he’s savoring the humiliation he’s putting me through.

“Alone, helpless, poor little kitten. I couldn’t leave it alone, now could I?”

He goes on, knowing full well, the reason is beyond absurd. My father shifts on his feet along with the rest of the nobles. Nobody believes that a Lycan King could ever have such a reason to be hours late to his own wedding.

But nobody dares to question him.

My cheeks redden at the further humiliation he is throwing my way, and his smirk widens. Satisfied with his words, he finally takes his place beside me, and the officiant begins the ceremony.

The words pass in a blur, lost in the deafening rush of blood still pounding in my ears. My vision blurs, and I can barely breathe.

Every part of me screams to run, to get away from this nightmare, but I’m rooted in place with invisible shackles.

Finally, the officiant’s voice cuts through the fog in my mind.

“You may kiss the bride.”

I hold my breath at the words, waiting for Alexander to move, to at least pretend to fulfill the ritual.

But he doesn’t.

He just stands there, staring at me with cold, disdainful eyes, making no effort to close the small distance between us.

My fingers tremble at my sides as I can feel the audience murmur in confusion.

The long, agonizing pause stretches out, and my shoulders slump under the weight of fresh embarrassment.

I want to disappear, to melt into the ground and never have to face these people again.

But just as I’m about to break under the pressure, I feel a sudden push from behind. It’s a sudden pressure of fingers against my back.

It’s like my world stops. My blood freezes in my veins.

From the corner of my eye, I catch my father’s maid slinking back in the shadows. Clearly, she had been the one who forced me into motion.

I cannot even react. Cannot even blink. Cannot even process.

And soon, too soon, it’s over.

My lips collide with Alexander’s in a soft, accidental kiss.

Yet, I feel the impact down to my very bones.

My eyes widen in shock, and alarm races through me.

The moment our lips part, I see it - the unrestrained fury in Alexander’s eyes.

He watches me like I am the worst criminal on earth.

His gaze hits me like a physical blow, and terror grips me, freezing me in place. I feel my world teetering into disaster until there is only one thought running a marathon through my mind:

He is going to kill me.

He is going to kill me.

He is going to kill me.