The Curse Of The Alpha’s Mate

Chapter 10

I sit through it all in silence, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of escape and weighing my options as the maids work tirelessly to make me presentable; a trophy doll.

Marcelo and I talked until he received a call from his father —Beta Darren, and had to get back to his responsibilities. I told him about New Harrlon; the college, my friends, the classes, how life has been like for me, and he told me about some changes in the pack house, a few funny stories, and we relived the good memories.

I missed breakfast, but asked one of the maids to bring me lunch so I didn’t have to go downstairs. I wasn’t exactly ready to meet the others. I could do without the whispered gossips for at least a while longer.

“Please steady your leg, Miss.” One of the maids with tan skin, short hair and a docile voice requests. She waits patiently, eyes glued to the shaving cream on my legs.

“Sorry.” I mutter, stilling my legs from bouncing. I’d been carried away by my thoughts.

Another maid curls my hair; her touch light on my scalp as she works skillfully quick through the wild tresses I struggle with every day. The full length mirror has been angled away from me, but I can tell that whatever magic she’s doing to my hair, it’ll end up looking good.

The third maid is fussing over my fingers; manicuring my nails with a large complex kit. Every now and then, she blows her bangs aside but they eventually end up obstructing her eyes like a sheepdog.

I slip back into my thoughts.

I could try striking up a bargain with Alpha Dmitri, but from his reputation alone, I can tell he’s not someone to strike a deal that wouldn’t benefit him. Which has me wondering; what did he offer my father in exchange for my hand in marriage?

And what did my father offer him? Surely not just me?

I know I’m not precious to my father or anything, but surely a marriage arrangement—even to a human bride, must mean something important. Alpha Dmitri had lost his mate to a freak accident years ago, and like Marcelo, he probably didn’t get a second chance mate, else I wouldn’t even be in this situation in the first place.

Why then did he agree to marry me? Is it for political reasons?

I need to find out exactly what my father gets from selling me off to Alpha Dmitri, and what Alpha Dmitri gets from marrying me. That’s the only way I can find a loophole to use as leverage for my freedom. And there are only three people that can answer my questions; my father, Fauna, or Dmitri himself.

I shake my head. The onset of a migraine throbs at the base of my skull. I feel exhausted already, and the evening is yet to even begin.

Intrusively, my thoughts flash back to the dream I had about Dmitri. I shut my eyes and groan. “Stay out of my head, I need to think straight.”

“Miss?”

I peel one eye open and look at the maid bent over my nails. She’s starring up at me questioningly.

“Did you say something Miss?” She repeats.

I want to slap myself. Get a grip! “No, you may continue.” I reply in my most regal voice, which unfortunately, is not impressive or majestic at all.

She complies without a word.

Another torturous hour later, I’m all dressed and pinned up like a mannequin ready for the runway.

They tilt the mirror back to face me, and I’m impressed by the results. I barely look like myself. My face glows under dewy makeup— all of my freckles, the tiny scar under my left eye, the dark eye circles, and the bruise on my cheek have been covered. There’s glitter on my lids, and my lips bleed a shade of scarlet red lipstick. My skin glistens from all the moisturizers; smooth and supple like I’ve just been unpackaged from a doll house.

Look at me; objectifying myself.

The black silk dress is the cherry on top that wraps everything up nicely. If my father hadn’t been the person who selected it, I might’ve liked it. It stops midway down my thighs; snagging close to my hips, and tightening around my torso like a corset partially made up of spaghetti straps.

Marcelo was right. It’s a stunning dress. But it shows too much skin.

I turn around on black red bottoms stilettos, the diamond choker on my neck and the rings on my fingers dazzling brightly. My hair falls halfway down my back; covering the upper half of my scars.

“It’ll look better with your hair up, Miss.” The blond maid with a docile voice comments.

The other one who’d done my hair bobs her head in agreement; untamed dark hair shaking. She’d planned to pin up my curls in an elegant updo, but I’d stopped her.

I agree the dress would look better with my hair up, but this is my little way of defying my father. He’d chosen the dress so my scars would be on display, but with my hair down, only a small fraction of the scars could be seen. I’d worn the dress, just not how he wanted.

“This is how I want it.” I say dismissively, a final tone in my voice.

They don’t push it further.

The door swings open and Fauna barges in. She’s changed from the polo shirt into a black tuxedo with an elaborate white collar. “Get out.” She orders impatiently.

The maids scurry out like petrified rodents; bumping into each other before disappearing out the door. I hear their footsteps hurrying down the stairs.

“Change of plans; Dmitri will meet you at the restaurant.” She informs, analyzing my outfit, but not complimenting on it. “Car’s waiting downstairs. Time to go.” She thrusts a black rhinestone studded designer purse in my direction. “Put your things in here.”

I take it from her and quickly stuff my phone, ID card, and ATM inside because she looks ready to drag me out. I add a few more things I think I might need; my dorm room keys which can double as a weapon if need be, a pen —also a weapon, and my old, tangled earphones.

“Let’s go.”

I follow her out the door and down the stairs, mentally thanking Natalia for forcing me to wear heels to every party we’ve attended together until I learned not only how to walk in them, but how to run in them if need be.

I meet a few familiar faces as we progress to the lower floors, but they only watch me in astonishment and I don’t attempt to start a conversation. I couldn’t even if I wanted to; Fauna was moving ahead too quickly.

By the time we reach the base floor, there’s a steady murmur of gossip and whispers trailing behind me. No one tries to follow of course, but their words and their eyes stick to my skin like parasitic leeches.

By the entrance, may father stands waiting.

“Fiona!” He beams at me, opens his arms and pulls me into a hug.

On the inside, I shrivel, my body going stiff. I know he’s doing this for the public eye; so the pack members watching don’t see him for what he truly is. I keep my arms glued to my side. The overpowering smell of his cologne chokes me, and it takes all of my willpower to not push him away and gag. I want to peel away every inch of my skin that has touched him.

His hand grips my upper arm tightly. “I will be watching, and listening.” He warns in my ear; his voice a low, menacing whisper. “Behave.”

And then he lets me go; smile still beaming.

I swallow down bile and shuffle out the front door, my eyes downcast until I reach the sleek black Mercedes waiting for me. Fauna is already in the front passenger seat, along with the driver.

Another man opens the door for me, and I slip inside without a glance back to see if my father is still looking. I already know he is. I can feel his controlling gaze on me.

“El Cielo Dine.” Fauna instructs the driver.

The engine revs, and we pull out of the driveway. The radio comes to life; playing an old country song on low volume. Fauna punches a button and we’re plunged back into the uncomfortable silence.

The driver says nothing; keeps his head fixed on the road ahead, hands on the steering wheel.

I bring out my phone from the purse and check the time. 6:01 pm. Outside the window, the clouds are already turning a gruesome shade of purple —like a bruise, and the sun has dipped too low beyond the horizon to be spotted; its orange glow dying fast as the night approaches. No stars are visible in the sky.

A notification from Natalia pings; lighting up the screen of my phone.

It reads; ‘TELL ME U OK OR I FLY THERE’

I type back; ‘bad timing but fine, will call later, promise.’

Later is starting to feel like forever.