The Curse Of The Alpha’s Mate

Chapter 4

I walk down the block lost in my thoughts, the May sun glaring down at me. Now and then, a hot breeze blows on my face like an industrial heating fan, and I yearn to go back into the cool air of Ariyoshi Café.

“Fiona!”

My head snaps up towards the direction of the person that yelled my name. I squint, and in the far distance, catch a glimpse of Justin Fairfax taking long strides to reach me. I realize I’ve never seen him run, or jog, in the six months we’ve been dating.

I stop in my tracks and put on a smile as he gets closer.

Justin Fairfax; five foot eight of lanky muscles, with a mop of blond hair, a pair of deep blue eyes that had that ‘James Dean daydream look’, and a set of teeth so perfect they looked odd. He reminds me a lot of the classic Ken doll; Hawaiian shirts, beach shorts, million-dollar smile and a dumbness only special to him.

If I am asked a thousand times why I started dating Justin in the first place, I wouldn’t be able to get out a single answer. But I can think of a thousand reasons why he’s so wrong for me.

I don’t understand why I never thought of breaking up with him. Maybe I wanted someone to parade around to so I could tell everyone in my life ‘see? I’m not a prude. I have a conventionally attractive boyfriend.’

Maybe I was too much of a coward to say no when he first asked me to be his girlfriend.

“Hey babe!” He says, planting a sticky kiss on my forehead; his chapstick mixing with the little perspiration of tension there.

I keep the smile plastered on my face and return his awkward sideways hug. “Hey you.”

“Yoga? Nice.” He compliments, smacking his chewing gum loudly; eyes giving me a slow once-over. “You look hot in those pants.” He grins; white teeth blinding me.

That is as creative as he gets with the compliments.

“Thanks.” I reply, brushing off a strand of dark hair that had escaped my ponytail, my throat going dry. I had no idea how to start, what to say, or even how to say it without telling Justin about my past and the fact that I’ll soon be married off to a werewolf.

He’d think I’m crazy.

And of course, who could blame him? Only a handful of humans knew about the existence of werewolves. To the rest, it is only a myth; stories spun from dreams and nightmares; fairytales and contents of books.

If I hadn’t been born human, none of this would’ve been a problem. If I hadn’t been born at all, I wouldn’t be in such a desperate, helpless situation.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. The hair tie holding my dark auburn hair slips away and dark tresses fall over my shoulders like a river.

“Justin, listen, I—“

He presses a neatly manicured finger to my lips; silencing me. “Before you tell me anything darling, let’s go to the liquor store.” He says, bubbling with obvious excitement.

I want to smack his hand away and roll my eyes, because I know exactly where this is going. He’d take me to the liquor store, buy an expensive bottle of some fancy beer or wine or vodka or whatever, and bat his eyelashes at me until I paid for it. But that wasn’t even the worst part. Most times, he’d perch himself on one of the stools in the store, and wouldn’t budge until he’s drunk silly; slurring his speech and swaying on his feet. I’d be the one to cajole —or drag— him out of the store and make sure he went back to his apartment safely.

I move his hand away, suppressing an eye-roll. “Justin, I don’t want to—“

But he’s already dragging me forward; strong arms pushing me in the general direction of La Cave Voltaire.

The words sit on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t move my jaw to get them out. I hate myself for this. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so sensitive to the feelings of other people. Sometimes I wish I could be brutally selfish.

But instead, I let him steer me down the block, through the double doors and inside the cool interior of the liquor store.

It smells expensively unfortunate inside; hundreds of bottles lining the walls like soldiers of an army being prepped for battle. Every surface is spotless and shiny, and as usual, there’s not a single customer. The wooden bar stools are empty, the tables scrubbed clean. Not many people around here are willing to get drunk during daylight hours.

Justin is clearly an exception.

“Mhm! I could be in here forever!”

He flashes me a toothy grin, eyes roaming the shelves greedily for what brand to choose. Merlot, Bacardi, Don Julio, Rum; I just hoped whatever he chose wouldn’t substantially affect my allowance. I’m already financially crippled as it is.

I sigh and lean on the counter.

The bulky bartender who also happens to be the cashier keeps his bleary gaze in my direction, but says nothing, only nodding his head in acknowledgement when I glanced at him. I’ve been in here enough times to make his acquaintance, but somehow his name just never sticks to my memory. Something along the lines of Samuel… Emanuel?

I shake my head. Focus! Tell him it’s over and walk out of here, easy peasy. Except, there’s nothing easy peasy about this at all and my stomach is in knots just thinking about Justin’s reaction. Will he be sad, angry, indifferent, or relieved? Will I even care if it hurts him? Sure I might feel a little guilty, but—

Well, only one way to find out.

I huff out a breath and stare at my worn out trainers for support. “Justin, I think we should break up.” I say, and I’m surprised by the flood of relief that washes over me.

It felt like I’ve been wanting to say those words out loud since forever.

Justin pauses, looks at me like I might grin and admit that the words were a prank. But then it sinks in for him; his eyebrows crease, his lip twitches, and his hand falls away from the Hennessey bottle he was about to pick. He stares at me like I’ve sprouted horns or grown out snakes for hair.

“Babe…” His voice is flat; there is not a hint of affection— maybe there never was, and to my ears, it sounds more like a warning. “Babe.” I can hear the words before he even speaks them. “You can’t do this.”

I cross my hands over my chest and try to keep my spine straight. Decidedly, I wouldn’t tell him about the marriage. “I’m—“ my words falter; I glance away from his judging, hurt gaze. “I don’t think this is working out anymore.”

The silence makes me want to scream.

“I think it’s for the best. For the both of us.” I add, knowing I sound selfish. But at this point, I am honestly beyond caring. I had spared us both the ‘It’s not you it’s me’ cringe speech.

Justin presses a fist to his lips and continues to glare at me. In his beach shorts and with a hand on his waist, he looks like the male protagonist of an old Hollywood movie played by a bad actor.

The bartender clears his throat and slips through the tiny door behind the counter, graciously giving us some privacy while also sparing himself the bullshit of whatever this is.

Part of me wants to bolt out the door and never look back, but I’ve run away from my problems enough times to understand that it’s not exactly a permanent solution.

“You can’t do this.” He repeats like a broken record.

“Why?” I blurt out.

“Because!” He runs a hand through his hair and grabs a fistful, pulling the shiny blond locks by their roots. “You can’t just— break up with me.” He continues, pacing now. “If we were to break up, I should be the one ending things, not you.”

Oh wow, and to think I actually felt bad for the delusional fact that he might actually get hurt. Suddenly, I understood why I never felt a connection in the relationship. It was never about me. To Justin, I am simply a character in his life who plays the role of the trophy girlfriend that pays for everything and turns a blind eye to all of his less than appealing habits.

“Well I am.” I reply angrily. “I am breaking up with you.” Douchebag, I want to add, but I don’t.

“You b***h!” He yells. “I didn’t even get to f**k you yet!”

I flinch, my eyes going wide. Did he just—

Before I can move, Justin storms to me and grabs my arm, seething with a rage I’ve never seen on him before. With narrowed eyes and gritting teeth, he lowers his face to mine, his grip on me tightening enough to bruise. “I am not going any f*****g where, do you hear me?!”

Fear paralyzes me, and then panic shoots through my system like raw electricity.

My knee connects with his groin, and as he howls in pain; doubling over, I take to my feet; bolting out of the store and into the street. I know he will not follow me, but I keep running until my lungs burn and my muscles begin to cramp; until the tears dry and my anger dissipates.

Running feels safe, familiar; I’ve been doing it since day one.