Chapter 4: Him

Chapter 4

Alex's POV 

Not once since this scuffle started has everyone been stunned silent like they are now. 

Too scared that the tension may swing in their direction, it's as if the entire hall is hanging by a thread.

“You're pathetic” Adriana bells the cat, sucking the tension in for herself. “Yet somehow I'm not surprised. You wouldn't know shame if it were served to you on a silver platter.”

Her words enter one ear and go out the other. She's not my focus right now. Micah is. He doesn't utter a word, yet his silence constructs a million sentences. 

I guess the pain from rejecting a mate bond goes both ways. 

“I'm done here.”

“And where do you think you're going, you murderer!” Adriana hurls, evidently far from finished. “Tell them! Tell everyone here that you were the one that started the fire that killed mom and dad eight years ago.”

I barely react, walking in the opposite direction, and it's a gesture she doesn't let slide. 

“Why you little—”

“I'm afraid I can't let you do that.” 

Someone blocks her off but I don't bother to put a face on the voice. 

The crowd of guests make way for me to walk through, and I hold my head high until I walk out.

Not a single one of them can look me in the eyes. I hear murmurs, but there's a reason it's being whispered and not said straight to my face. I'm not a murderer, and I sure as hell am not guilty of anything. 

However, there's only so much pain my body can take. Even in the midst of my feigned resolve, every bone in my body aches in agony…

…An agony I refuse to let become visible until I walk out of the Lycan King's Mansion.

Sure enough, the moment I make it past the avoidant stares, I feel my soul break down. The pain doubles and my grief multiplies. I can't cry just yet, but I feel the tears well up within me. 

My head drops, and the strength to hold it up falters. I slip into the first cab I reach, and melt in the passenger's seat almost instantly.

I don't even care to acknowledge the driver or the destination of what's going to be a horrible journey.

He drives off into the night, no questions asked…

…not until…

“We’ll stop here. Circle back to the event and keep me updated.”

The dark and unfamiliar voice awakens my senses, but when I raise my head, they weaken in a flash.

He's wearing a mask. 

“A fellow guest for the party?” I think to myself 

Squinting, I try to recognise him, but he tilts his head and assesses me instead.

“You're… a guest from the party” I blurt.

“You're in my car” he replies. 

My eyes widen to take it all in, and I notice just how different this ‘cab’ looks. The furnished interior, the tinted glass separating the passenger seats from the driver up front… this is a limo!

“I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was a—”

Before I reach for the door, the latch pin of every lock drops. 

“I'm afraid I can't let you leave my car” he says. “Not when you look like that.”

That's when it clicks. I'm not wearing my mask anymore. He sees me… 

…all of me. 

“I'm sorry. I should've looked before getting in” I drop my head and accept my fate.

Worst case scenario, he'll drop me off somewhere no one’ll see. Wouldn't blame him for not wanting to be attached to—

“You're in no condition to be out alone” his gentle hands reach for my cheek and tilt my face back up. 

I stare into his dark brown eyes, comforted by a touch I don't want to accept.

“Sir, we’re here.”

The car stops, and I look through the tinted glass to see a small, familiar inn. I'm pretty sure we'd passed here on our way to the Lycan King's Mansion, but I didn't think too much about it then. 

“I… I don't think I should.”

“Let’s go Alex.”

As if the shock from calling me by name wasn't enough, he carries me in his arms and walks out of the car, not caring enough to acknowledge my shock-masked discomfort. 

The scents hit me the moment we walk in. 

Simple yet elegant, expensive and warm. I can swear I've caught a whiff of it before. 

He places me on the couch, and I grab on to him a little harder than I should.

“Take me back. Don't think you can take advantage of me because—”

“I know you weren't heading home” he says, both hands on mine while I hold his collar. “If I let you leave, where’d you go?”

His voice is so soothing, his eyes so relaxed. I have no idea who he is, but my body isn't resisting his help or warmth. 

“I'm not a decent chef, but I can whip up something to give you a little energy. If you'd like, I'm sure I have some warm clothes here as well” he carefully pulls my fingers from his collar and makes his way further into the lodge. 

I stay seated, battling between succumbing to a stranger's touch or slipping out before he can return. I can't become vulnerable again, yet the thought lingers a lot longer than it should. Maybe it's because of the look in his masked yet warm eyes. Or because the scents that flood the room moments after he leaves comfort me more than anything tonight has. 

“You didn't leave” he returns soon after. “I'm glad.”

He walks up to me with a tray of food and a set of warm clothes. He's taken off his suit, revealing an intricate mix of ink and injuries that trail his detailed upper body. Yet the most capturing feature… is his unmasked face. 

His curly hair drops right over the stillness in his eyes, and his smile lights up a part of me I didn't even think existed. If it did, it'd should've been crushed after all that happened today. 

“I think you should eat before anything else” he kneels in front of me. “Get some strength first. Then we can—”

“Why are you helping me?” I ask, trying to catch him off guard, but he only smirks in response.

“Why shouldn't I?” He scoops a spoonful of soup but I pull back before he can feed me.

A mix of confusion, distress and anger suddenly overwhelm me. I don't know when the next couple words run down my mouth before I can filter them.

“Why… on earth are you actually helping me? How do you know my name? Why aren't you asking me what happened? Why are you so calm when I know you have an ulterior motive? Why are you being so warm when there's no reason for you to—”

He pushes through my tantrum and forces the spoon into my mouth. 

“That’s enough.”

The warmth in his eyes fizzle off, and something about his blunt stare reveals a slightly colder mood. 

“Would you prefer if I'd left you there? Weak and half-drunk? Or told you to get out of my car the second you walked in?”

“I’m not dr—”

“Yes, you are” he calmly pulls the spoon from my mouth and the umami flavour runs down tongue before it explodes at the back of my throat. 

He leans close. 

Close enough to make my heart skip a beat. 

Close enough to make me wish he'd lean in closer. 

“I don't know what happened in there, but why you think of abandon you because of it, is beyond me. However, if that would make you a little more comfortable—”

“No, please.”

I pull him back by his tank top before he can lean back, and for a couple seconds, we're just staring at each other. 

Why am I drawn to a complete stranger? And why does it feel a lot more soothing than it should?

Why am I thinking about this so much? 

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“You're beautiful.”

I feel it. 

The words simmer through every nerve.

“What?”

“Was that too sudden?” His gaze flickers to my lips, then back to my eyes. “I wasn't sure how long I could keep talking without saying it.”

He's quiet.

I'm quiet.

Maybe it's the alcohol. Maybe it's the force of the moment. Maybe he leans close, or I lean closer.

I'm not sure what it is, but I don't care to figure it out. 

Our lips lock, hungry and claiming. He tastes like heat. Like promise and adventure. 

On the v

erge of losing myself, he pulls back.

“Are you sure you want to—”

“Don't” I grab him close and lean forward until our lips touch. “Don't make me think about it.”