The Alpha's Ruby Obsession

Chapter Four: At Least

‘In a year, if I come to you, will you help me disappear?’

The question played again in my mind.

Good lord, I actually asked the queen such a question on the happiest day of her life, her wedding.

Why couldn’t I keep the grief to myself? At least for a few days, at least until she returns from her honeymoon.

A loud groan follows the thoughts racing through my mind.

Then again, isn’t a year too ambitious? He will have met his mate by then. But, this time, I can leave; this time, I don’t have to watch them fall in love. I should look for vacation spots to spend the last six months of our year together.

My mind wanders to my last meeting with Alpha Adrian; I don’t know why my fingers move to my lips.

I almost kissed him, or he almost kissed me—no, I must be the one who almost kissed him; such thoughts would never cross his mind when it comes to me.

My gaze lands on my reflection in the mirror; it only takes a second to lower my fingers from my lips; I feel foolish having them there.

Still, my reflection looks nothing like how I feel.

The cream of my wedding gown reflects too poorly for the crimson in my eyes and the black of my hair; the gown has no sharp contrasts, so it looks murky.

If I had it my way, I would brighten the white so that the sharp contrast matches the black of my hair.

My gaze moves to my lips, and my mother’s words play in my mind.

‘Men like red lips. The redder, the better.’

I resemble a clown on my wedding day—a murky dress, too brightly coloured lips, and these hideous eyes. Would things have been better if my eyes were greener like all the other Clives?

But perhaps it’s better this way; when I meet my real mate, I will take care of every little detail of that wedding and make sure to wear a tiara; I have always wanted one.

A knock sounds on the door.

“Five minutes, Mallory.”

Britney’s voice sounds.

The maid was attending in place of mother because she couldn’t make it; she had an emergency. For all her involvement in the planning, she couldn’t spare a few hours to walk her daughter down the aisle.

My stand from the dressing table is quick, but the sting on the back of my legs slows me.

Right, she hit me for leaving my room in a gown in the middle of the night. Apparently, it has happened thrice, all without my recollection—God, Britney is working overtime to get me punished at every turn.

The sting is fine as long as I don’t reek of blood…though I doubt Alpha Adrian will care as long as I don’t limp down the aisle and ruin the ceremony with barely anyone in attendance.

Though Mother did her best to plan a grand wedding, the Alpha insisted on a court wedding, which was no different from eloping.

‘You are not worth introducing to my family.’

He had uttered when Mother sent me to convince him.

A bitter laugh trickles from my throat before my gaze lands on a soft teal box on my dresser containing enchanted handcuffs courtesy of a witch called Violet.

I want to chain him to the bed and make him succumb to me; men like s*x, so it should be easy enough, and when he does, I will moan another’s name in his ears; any name will do—anything to spite him.

Perhaps even Leo’s, his Beta.

A knock on the door sounds, and I wince.

“Here comes the bride.”

I mutter, leaving the dressing area.

**

"Dearly beloved..."

The officiant begins after we sign the necessary paperwork.

My gaze roams the room; it is small, with the barest amenities, and aside from the officiant, my maid and his security personnel, the hall is empty.

Inviting the queen to such an event after her extravagant wedding would be shameful, so I didn’t.

Everything is the same as our wedding in my previous life—his stoic expression, the blue cloth sticking out of his front suit pocket, and his soothing scent that floods the small space, lulling me into a calm I should not feel in his presence.

Should I turn away from him and run out of the building without looking back?

If I do, I will get the bonus of breaking his bored expression, but where the hell will I go?

To mother?

"Have you prepared your vows?"

The officiant leans in to ask, worry on his face and a hint of irritation as if he had repeated himself.

"No."

Last time I was foolish enough to do that, Adrian, no, Alpha Adrian called it ‘unnecessary’. Now that I think about it, he had a point.

Let’s not do anything ‘unnecessary’ again.

The officiant turns to Alpha Adrian, and he gives the same response I did before proceeding with the ceremony.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Last time he raised my chin but couldn't bring himself to kiss me, so he hugged me instead to save face.

If I start coughing right now, will it free him from having to go out of his way?

“We can skip the-”

The words barely leave my mouth when his warm hands, whose roughness can be felt through his thin black gloves, cup my cheek and pull me to his height before leaning into my frame.

My lips, on instinct, seal shut just as his press against them.

I can feel my eyes widening as the shock of his actions rocks through my being.

What the hell?

What the hell is going on?

What is he doing? Why are his eyes closed as if this is natural?

His lips trail from mine, across my cheek and to the ear opposite from where the officiant stands.

"Open your damn mouth, or I will pry it open with my thumb."

The question, 'Why are you doing this’ hangs at the tip of my tongue, but the feel of his hand sliding around my waist and pressing my flesh against his hard-muscled body erupts a gasp from me, one that he all too willingly swallows.

The softness of his lips is startling, but it is the scent of the ocean flooding my nostrils that flutter my eyelids shut and steal every ounce of fight from me.

If my lungs could take in all of him, I would let them.

His tongue strokes the roof of my mouth, weakening my knees.

My feet do not feel as if they are on the ground; the dizziness claiming me reminds me of waves crashing against my body in water; thank the goddess for his hold against me, for his large hand that burns its existence on my back stills me in place.

My hands itch to slide to his neck for more support, but I let my fingers curl into fists instead.

As his mouth widens to devour mine, which seems to crave and follow his dominating and delicious movements blindly, a stray thought floats in my mind—he tastes addictively divine to me; how average must I have tasted to him that this in both our lives is our first kiss?

How did his mate taste to him?

The questions have the quick effect of making my body feel as if iced water has been poured on me because I regain my sanity all too quickly.

My hands move to his chest to push him from me, but it is as if my struggle excites him, for his hold on me only tightens.

His hand on my cheek forces my face to remain on him until, once again, fight leaves my body at his skill; only then does he pull harshly away from me that my body shudders at the drop in temperature.

His gaze remains on mine before the dark blue of his eyes turns away. My focus remains on him for a moment, but the blaring sound of Mendelssohn’s wedding march reminds me of where we are.

My tongue aches to lick my now tender lips, but I will not. Not when I am convinced he pressed the kiss despite my struggle to pass on a message that he is the only one permitted to reject me and never the other way around.

"What the hell was that?"

At my question, his gaze turns to the blushing officiant, who busies himself almost instantly, then back to me.

He does not answer instantly; he merely watches me before a sneer lifts from his now crimson-stained lips courtesy of my lipstick.

"What? Are you scared of a little kiss? I thought you would be in charge of our s*x sessions, but if you act this way for just a kiss, I am not looking forward to loaning you my c*ck.”

The piano accompanies his bitter words before he turns and walks out of the courtroom alone, leaving me with the officiant as if we had not just gotten married.

A cheap wedding without family or friends, clownish make-up, an ugly dress, and now I must walk alone in a dress that screams ‘just married’.

I should have worn jeans.

Well…at least this part of him is the same as last time.