Not My Alpha

Keira’s POV The fizzy golden liquid drips off the table, threatening its vengeance with a yellowed stain. I quickly push myself away from the table’s edge, the champagne drips lazily over the dark wood. Thank goodness. Dawson, my new husband quickly grabs his napkin and sops up the mess I’ve made. “One sip too many?” He playfully whispers. My mother in law is still standing, and casually narrating my accident to the reception hall. She repeats my new husband’s joke to the crowd. The crowd laughs, and I look up and smile guiltily which elicits another chuckle. When my mother in law stood up to give her speech, I- all too quickly- reached for my champagne glass, and clumsily knocked it over onto the table “Can we get the bride another glass please?” My mother in law asks through the microphone, beckoning the waitstaff to quicken their pace. “My Luna.” The waiter says as he bows his head in respect presenting the less than half full glass to me on a literal silver platter. “Thank you- uh-“ I clear my throat. I’m not used to my new title. A title I just received less than 45 minutes ago. “Well, I suppose I’ll just start again.-“ she clears her throat making no effort to move the microphone away from the gritty noise- “My darling Keira. I just want to say how happy we all are that Dawson has found his mate. And how perfect you both are for each other.” Luna Bethany says with her sickly sweet smile. She raises her glass to cheers her son, and then me. I take a polite sip, as I watch Luna Bethany smother her son in kisses as if he were a small child. Eeeuulcch - I try my best to not let my distain for their weird over-attached mommy son relationship show on my face. A skill I’ve honed sharply since meeting my fated mate. “Thank you so much. You all have been so warm and welcoming.” I say, ensuring to come off as genuinely as possible. That’s when I see Dawson pouring himself another whiskey, this makes his sixth of the night. Im not so good at hiding my reaction- or maybe Dawson just knows what I’m thinking, because I swear he just poured himself a little more out of spite. Oh no. I look away quickly hoping Dawson will forget the whole thing. But then again, I’m never that lucky. When dinner is over, Dawson gestures for me to stand next to him. We wave and say our goodbyes to our guests, the members of my new pack. The hall is empty before Dawson clues me in to the real reason he wanted me so close. “Come with me.” He growls in my ear. Sending chills down my spine. He takes his all too familiar all too tight grip on my upper arm and drags me behind him all the way upstairs to the bedroom, where he throws me in before turning to locks the door. By the time he turns be towards me, I can see the rage fuming in his eyes. “How dare you embarrass mother. How DARE you embarrass me! You’re never touching another sip of liquor as long as you live. Why did the goddess punish me with a lush for a wife-“ Dawson goes on droning and complaining, and I turn to stone. My only defense against his harsh words. I won’t dare point out the irony of him accusing me of being a drunk while he slurs and slips through his lecture. His speech pauses, and he squints at my stoic face. Oh no- sometimes I’m too stoic, and Dawson gets offended. I still haven’t mastered the delicate balance of keeping Dawson calm- and I’m going to pay for it. “What- oh I know. You think you’re better than me. You think I’M the one with the problem. Don’t think I didn’t notice that look you gave me at dinner!” Dawson growls. He walks heavy steps towards me and I recoil backwards putting my hands up in defense. “I didn’t mean to give you any look.” I plead while looking for an escape, but I know it’s all in vain. Dawson grabs me by the throat and pins me against the wall, knocking the back of my head against it in the process. My eyes water and my hands reflexively grab at my throat. “If you want to say something, then just say it.” Dawson whispers through clenched teeth, as he tightens his grip around my neck. The putrid stench of whisky on his breath is the last thing I smell before I can no longer breathe. It’s amazing how much I hate the smell, and how quickly I would give anything to smell it again- if it meant I could breathe just one more breath. My face burns hot from the blood collected there, I continue clawing at Dawson’s hand desperately trying to free myself from his grip. “Say it!” He shouts, spraying spit onto my face. “I— Sssoo— rr-“ I struggle to make event the smallest sound. Then finally -just as the blackness creeps into my vision- Dawson lets go. I fall to the floor taking in huge deep breaths, finally filling my burning lungs. Dawson leans down, to whisper something in my ear. His scent surrounds me instantly thrusting memories of when things with Dawson weren’t this bad. Back when I agreed to marry him. Back then his scent used to bring me comfort, but right now it brings nothing but despair. Despair and fear. “If you ever embarrass me again, I swear I’ll-“ Dawson’s gearing himself up again. He does this- over and over sometimes, calming down then riling himself back up repeating the same things. I start to cry now, silently. Dawson’s whisper has escalated to a yell. Then suddenly- A knock at the door. The sound is my savior, come to recuse me again. Dawson stops mid word- the knock breaking him from his disjointed ramblings. His volume returns to a whisper. “Go to the bathroom.” He orders. I don’t hesitate. I shuffle quickly to the cold tiles and shut the door behind me. Locking it and leaning against it. I hear Dawson open the door and greet his best friend and future Beta, Harrison. “Alpha, is everything okay?” I hear Harrison ask. He and Dawson have been best friends their entire lives. But somehow they’re two totally different people. Where Dawson is mean and cruel Harrison is gentle and kind. What did they ever have in common? I don’t know. Proximity is a powerful thing. “Were good man. Sorry, just having a little disagreement- the struggles of marriage I guess.” Dawson laughs. “Okay man, just take it easy on her. She’s only been here a few months.” Harrison says. “Yeah I know.” Dawson lets out a long sigh. “I guess I better go play damage control.” I hear the tone shift in Dawson’s voice. Bad Dawson has left the building. Now I’m going to get good Dawson. Harrison can have that affect on Dawson, a trait I admire in Harrison above all others, a trait I owe my life to. The door closes and I hear a slow gentle knock on the bathroom door. “Keira, I’m sorry. Please open up. I’m really sorry.” Dawson says. Every muscle in my body in tense. Don’t open the door Keira. My body tells me. But my mind knows better. She knows if I don’t accept good Dawson’s apologies, then bad Dawson will come back. I turn my head towards the bathroom door, and the soreness from Dawson’s grip hits me for the first time. I wince, but still bring myself to my feet. I gently open the door and see Dawson standing there looking sad and regretful. A wave of disgust hits me, I hate going through this charade. But I do it anyway. I walk forward and accept Dawson’s apologies. His kisses my head and I burry my face in his neck. Once again allowing his scent to transport me back to when things were better. When I first arrived to the pack as Dawson’s mate, things were great. Dawson and I spent every waking moment together. He was funny, he was charming, he was handsome and he was kind. He showered me with love and affection, every single night we went on a date. And each date was better than the last. I was blissful and serene those first few weeks here, imagining my idyllic future. I remembers thinking this what it means to have a fated mate. Perfectly in sync. Made perfect for each other- boy would I learn. It wasn’t long though, before I started to notice the drinking. It was only a few drinks here and there at first and that was normal, everyone had a few drinks, we were out for dinner right? But then the 2 whiskeys at dinner became 5, plus the 4 beers with lunch, and then the 3 mimosas with breakfast. Dawson always got louder when he was drunk, but then she started to get aggressive. I quickly learned to not poke the bear, and I paid the price for all the nights I wasn’t so careful. It was easy to forget about it though, I had so many more memories of good Dawson, plus I had plenty to keep me busy. Learning my Luna duties, meeting the member of the pack, and most of all planning my wedding. I had always hated planning parties before, and looking back, I only threw myself into it because I was turning away from the truth. Well now the wedding has happened and I think reality just hit me for the first time. This is my life now. A tear falls from my eyes as Dawson pulls away from his hug. “Please, can we go to bed. I’m sorry.” Dawson says. I look in his eyes. He seems to be genuinely apologetic. And I think he is. He’s explained before, how he doesn’t want to fight, but sometimes when I look at him, he feels like he’s a disappointment to me, just like how he feels with his father. Then his wolf creeps out and Dawson loses control. Blah blah blah. Still, the mate bond is powerful, it beckons my hand to grab his, and Dawson leads me to the bed. He’s a master at turning things around, and the mate bond is his sharpest weapon. His very touch sends tingles through my body and a wave of comfort that settles into my marrow. Maybe this time Dawson will change, he is my mate after all. Maybe we can make it through this together. My wolf Harper purrs in delight with Dawson’s every touch. It isn’t long before cuddling turns to kissing, which turns to more. After the make up s*x is over though and the d**g of a mate bond is gone- I can’t help but feel disgusted with myself. This man hurts me, and I still give my body to him? I am ashamed, I know I’m stronger than this. The regret is never alone, she always walks hand in hand with her bestie. Guilt. Guilt because I have what everyone wants. I found my fated mate. And even though sometimes I hate the mate bond, I know I’m lucky to even experience it. Now a days they say the chances of find your fated one in a thousand. Everyone dreams of being that ‘one’ and I was. Lucky me. I lay there quietly listening for the repetitive snore, signaling that Dawson had finally fallen asleep. Then I slide out of bed, and walk across the damned creaky floor and into the bathroom. I close the door quietly and keep the light off, so I won’t wake him. Then I grab a towel and crawl into the tub, closing the curtain behind me. I lie down against the cold ceramic, and cover my face with the towel. It isn’t until I have the final barrier of sound in place that I allow myself to silently cry. How did I get here? Trapped by Dawson and that damned mate bond. I cry as I recall the traumatic events of the evening. Thank goodness for Harrison. His knock on the door might’ve literally saved my life today. But what happens on the day that the knock on the door comes too late?