Too Beautiful for the Alpha

Chapter 13

I must look like something straight out of a nightmare, because when I attempt to open the door, I

realize it is locked, and suddenly Gail peeks through the drawn curtains and shrieks. The curtains slip

closed and I knock again. "Gail! It's me! Rae?" I call to her, "I'm fine, just let me in."

She comes through the sliver in the curtains again, shouting through the glass of the window. "Rae?

Dear Goddess! What on earth happened—"

"Will you please open the door?" I interrupt and wait the few seconds until the lock clicks and Gail

swings the door open, her eyes wider than I've ever seen them—and I've held a knife to my neck. "I

should explain," I say, attempting to get inside, but she blocks me.

"Is that your blood?"

"No," I say, wanting to get inside, but she blocks me again.

"You'll track blood in the house," she says wearily before lighting up with more questions. "Were you

out there at that rogue incident? Is that why you're covered in blood? I'll call the doctor. Alpha Grant is

by the border post, but I'll send someone to get him. Come in. Come in. Where are you hurt? It looks

like everywhere."

I follow her into the living room where the phone is. "I'm not, well I was under a dead wolf, but I'm not

actually hurt. It's just rogue blood."

She stops and looks back at me. "You were what?"

"I'll explain if you'll let me."

She nods. "Just let me get the Alpha."

I grab the phone before she can. "No. Don't. I said I'm not hurt."

"You're soaked in another man's blood. You look like Carrie. You said something about being stuck.

Now give me the phone."

"Gail, please. Let me explain first?"

She groans. "Alright."

I sit down at the small table in the kitchen while Gail grabs a dish towel and runs it under the sink,

ringing it out, then sitting down beside me. She brings the cloth to my face and rubs at the blood

smeared on me. "Goddess, Rae. It's dried on you."

I explain and she rubs. "I went to go ask a guard about the unclaimed land and it just happened to be

during this whole attack thing. Long story short rogues were all around me and I didn't know what to do.

I saw this dead wolf just laying there so," Gail cringes, "I hid under it. It was so heavy. Plus, I took them

hours until they found me! I was going insane. I couldn't feel my legs—even now they feel weird."

"Why were you out so late at night?"

I shrug. "I couldn't sleep. Thought I would go for a walk and got curious about unclaimed land," I say,

my excuse already planned out. I had enough time to do so while under that beast. "Then that

happened. I swear, I'm always in the middle of trouble. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time."

My mind wanders to the moment when I first met James. How I stumbled out of the trees when he was

passing by with my Alpha and Luna. I embarrassed myself that day.

As Gail continues to scrub my face—my skin feeling red—we hear the front door open and I

immediately give her a look. "I didn't call him. You had the phone," she says, returning to the sink again

to rinse what she got off with the towel.

I peer down at my horror state and sigh. It takes him three seconds to get to the kitchen, and when

James appears he stops suddenly, his eyes examining me. "It's not my blood," I say calmly, "it's rogue

blood."

This doesn't seem to satisfy him because he nears and has a look on his face. "You were at the

borders during the middle of the night? You laid under a dead rogue?"

When he says it, it all sounds quite funny to me. I nod. "That's pretty much it. You can go now, you

don't have to waste your time here. I'm sure there's a lot to deal with." I leave him in the kitchen, but he

follows me to the stairs. I turn around. "What?"

He struggles to find words. "Are... Are you alright?"

My heart squeezes and not in a good way. I look up at him, trying to keep my face straight. "No. I was

under a dead wolf for hours, laying in his blood. I'm not okay, but you don't get to care. It's too late to

care. You don't get to pick and choose when to be nice to me and when to be an ass. You told me that

you don't want me. You made it very clear." You also kissed me. You grabbed me and kissed me like

you had the right to when you didn't, and I couldn't help but love it. "You don't get to care. You still don't

know what you've done to me—what you're still doing to me. How you're treating me... I have to go

wash this blood off of my body. You better get back to your duties."

I head up the stairs before he can respond, and the entire way to my bedroom I'm thinking, why did he

ask me that? He doesn't say things like that. He's never asked me how I am. I said too much. I can't tell

him how I feel, he'd use it against me.

I lock the door and take off my clothes, placing them in the sink for now so the floor doesn't get bloody.

Light from the small window above the toilet trickles in and I step into the shower, letting the water

wash the red from my skin. The white floor of the shower is coated in a dull mix of warm colors and I

watch it drain until the water runs clear. Gail has given me toiletries and they sit on the floor, so I reach

down and squeeze out too much shampoo onto my palm then scrub the dried blood from my scalp.

The heat from the water fogs the glass walls of the shower and I slid down the tiles until I hit the

ground. The shower beats down on my legs as I curl up. Shampoo foam drips down my face and down

my shoulders and I can't help my cry softly to myself.

I can still taste the blood on my lips.

Time is nonexistent as I sit in the shower. The shampoo has mostly washed from my hair, little patches

of foam trapped underneath. I pick under my nails, scratching out dirt and blood until they look clean,

my fingertips wrinkled. Knowing that I'll have to get out sometime, I squeeze out some conditioner and

lather my hair, eventually standing up to rinse it out. The bathroom is clouded with steam, making it

hard to breathe, so I open the bathroom door and air it out. I can't help but see things on my bed.

I grab a towel and head out, finding my books and my iPod set neatly on the edge of the bed, waiting

for me. I take the small device in my wrinkled hand and squeeze it to make sure it is really there.

The phone is set on the desk, hooked back up. I take it and call my mother.

* * *

November 20, 1991

James asked if I would like to go on a run today, but I had to refuse. I am pregnant. I had hoped for it

and I was granted it. At first, I was scared, but James is warming up to me. He has been spending

more time with me the last few weeks and it makes me even more sure in my hopes. He is beginning to

accept me into his life. It was hard at first for him, but he is trying now, I can tell. Oh, he is going to be

so happy when I tell him the news. I am waiting for the perfect moment. I am not sure when that is, but

I trust that I will feel it.

Yesterday he took me around the pack. I met many new people and he says that he will announce my

role as Luna soon. Everything is coming together. I knew it would.

I feel myself falling in love with him. He holds me at night. I no longer have to reach out to him when he

is asleep. He holds me.

I lay on my bed after eating dinner with Gail and Theresa, lying amongst my books and my iPod,

thinking. He gave me my things back, I know that. I know it wasn't Gail or Theresa. Did he feel bad for

me? Is that why?

Unable to sleep, I head downstairs knowing that Gail and Theresa had gone home, and not knowing

where James is. He could be in his room, he could be at the borders, he could be with Theodore's

sister, he could be dead.

I walk shamelessly to the odd cabinet and grab the bottle of vodka that I left on the porch that one night

before heading to the kitchen to grab a glass. The moon shines into the empty kitchen, bleaching the

white countertops and giving the space an unearthly glow. I reach into the cabinet, select a glass, then

unscrew the bottle cap and pour. It hurts going down like it did before, an unpleasant taste left on my

tongue, but I drink anyways. The taste of the liquor covers the taste of his kiss that still lingers on my

lips.

I lean against the counter, facing the small table, thinking back to earlier when Gail was scrubbing my

face and when James came in. I wonder what he thought when he first saw me covered in blood. It

worried him, I know that. I like that. I can't help but like it.

I am split in two. Part of me wants to leave and never look back, running off into the woods just to

breathe, but the other part yearns for something else. The other part yearns for him. I read Julianna's

diary and dream of a world where James holds me at night, one where he kisses me goodnight and

where he tells me how much he needs me. This part of me would kill for that world. This part of me lays

awake at night and holds her pillow, pretending it is him sleeping against me. The mate bond is cruel to Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

me. The Moon Goddess is cruel to me. He is cruel to me but I can't let go. Every time he shows me a

smidge of care—or when he kissed me—I can't help but let it blind me away from everything else has

done.

I look behind me from the sudden feeling of a presence, and to my surprise it is him. He stands at the

entrance to the kitchen, his eyes on me, and I swiftly grab the bottle of vodka and hide it behind my

back. His scent toys with me as he draws close, but I cannot tell if he is upset or not.

Without saying a word he comes up to me and reaches behind me, and I let him take the bottle from

me without putting up a fight. My cheeks heat up, embarrassing me even more.

James places the bottle on the counter. "You're up late."

I can't help but blurt, "Why did you do it?" Maybe I'll blame it on the vodka later, or maybe my lack of

sleep, but I need to know in this moment more than I have ever needed to know. "Why did you kiss

me?"

He stays silent and takes the glass out of my hand, setting it on the counter beside the bottle.

"Please," I mumble, desperate at this point, "will you just tell me something? Anything? You don't have

to want me. I just need to know why I am here." He doesn't say anything. "Please, James—"

"Where did you hear that?"

Grasping onto his words, hoping for a conversation, I quickly answer. "Theresa and Gail told me. I

asked them. They told me you were named after your father." He looks down at me, still not biting. "Do

you hate me? Do you hate me because I'm your mate and you wanted something else? Are you just

taking your anger out on me because you're disappointed?"

James looks down at me again. "No."

I swallow, not expecting an answer at all let alone one so straightforward. "Oh," I breathe out, not

knowing what to say. "Well, well why then? Why be so cruel?"

He sighs, sounding as if he doesn't want to answer this one, but as I said, I'm desperate for answers.

On a limb, I place my hand on his arm and he eyes turn right to the connection before finding my own.

He places his hand on top of mine and takes it off. "I don't want you to like me, Rae. It's better this

way."

Hearing him say my name makes me shaky, but I can't control the outburst bubbling up inside of me.

"Better?" I question, failing to hold back my anger. "Better! Better for you! It's only better for you!"

"No," he says firmly. "You are not the only one having to deal with this bond."

I cross my arms to stop myself from hitting him. "I'm not the one who is sleeping with other people! If

only you knew how that felt! It's hell. You know it hurts me and you still do it, so what? So I'll hate you?

You accomplished that a while ago."

James' eyes intensify. "No. I do it to forget about you. I do it to get you off of my mind for an hour or

two, but even then you find your way in. I have no breaks from you. There is no moment that is mine

anymore because you're always in my head."

His face is very close to mine, and the hated feelings between us swell. "That's not my fault," I say

softly. "Why is it better this way? Why?"

He turns away from me, my head in an emotional uprise. "Even after all I've gone you still..." he looks

back and I can't help myself.

"There will always be a part of me that will still want you, that's how Mates work if I like it or not. Things

could be nice between us. They don't have to be this way," I reach out to him again. "Things could be

nice. You don't have to push me away. I know you want it too, it's why you're always thinking of me,

why I'm always on your mind. We're supposed to be together, it's how Mates are. All you have to do is

open your mind and we can heal the mistakes made."

He peers off. "You'll never heal. I've gone too far for you to heal."

My grip on his arm tightens. "But you won't let me go. You won't let me go because everything inside of

you is telling you not to! Either you let me go, or you let me in because I am not living like this."