Page 9 of Alpha's Exiled Mate
Focus. I warned myself.
I lead her up the jade steps toward the palace. The crowd parted before us, their eyes wide with curiosity and awe. My father stood at the top, his expression unreadable, but he gave a slow nod of approval. Jackson and his father stood to one side, their smiles practiced but hollow. I knew those smiles—they were the grins of vultures circling a wounded animal, waiting for me to falter. Jackson’s gaze lingered on Viossi, predatory and calculating, and I instinctively shifted, positioning myself between them.
Without thinking, I tightened my grip on her hand and instinctively shifted my body to shield her from whatever lay ahead. The movement happened without conscious thought—my body reacting before my mind could catch up, as if some primal instinct had taken control.
I forced myself to rationalize the action, to wrap it in cold logic—this was simply a calculated decision, nothing more. She was my last hope for breaking the curse that had plagued me for so long, and I couldn’t afford to lose her now. She was valuable—essential, even—to my survival. That was all there was to it.
The wedding ceremony took place before the sacred altar, a tradition upheld by the royal family for centuries. The towering statue of the Moon Goddess loomed above, her serene face gazing down, arms outstretched as if to bless the union.
The hall was silent, the air thick with reverence, every guest holding their breath.
Viossi stood beside me, her veil casting her face in shadow, but I could sense her trembling. Her neck quivered faintly, the pearl earring at her ear swaying with each subtle movement—a delicate, vulnerable detail that drew my eye.
When I slipped the ring onto her finger, her hand shook so violently I had to steady it with my own. My fingers brushed her knuckles, and she flinched, then quickly stilled, as if afraid to provoke me.
Her submission stirred something in me.
A quiet satisfaction I didn’t care to examine.
I leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to her forehead through the veil.
Even through the veil, the moment our lips brushed, a faint tremor coursed through her body, so subtle it might have gone unnoticed if not for the delicate shiver that lingered on my tongue.
She kept her head bowed, her expression hidden from me, the gauzy fabric obscuring her face like a fragile barrier. Yet her breathing betrayed her—quicker now, each inhale sharper, more ragged than before, as if she were fighting to hold herself together.
A cold, bitter laugh echoed in my mind.
This was the fifth time I’d stood here, performing this hollow ritual, reciting vows that felt more like chains than promises. Four brides, four ceremonies, each one a calculated step toward breaking the curse that clung to me like a shadow. I’d grown accustomed to the routine—the weight of expectation, the murmurs of the crowd, the fleeting hope that this time might be different.
But this time, something stirred within me, unbidden and unsettling.
My wolf growled again, louder this time, its agitation rippling through my blood. It sensed something in her, something it recognized, but I dismissed it. I’d long since abandoned notions of fated mates or destined love.
Those were fairy tales, irrelevant to a man cursed to not live past thirty. The elders gave the only solution—use my own child to extend my life.
The thought twisted in my chest, a dull ache I’d learned to ignore. It was the price of my duty, the burden of being the kingdom’s sole heir. I couldn’t let Jackson seize the throne—hisambition would plunge our people into chaos. For their sake, I had to live, no matter the cost.
I can only bury all my struggles deep inside. I move forward like a walking suit of armor, cold and relentless.
The ceremony ended, and we retreated to my private chambers.
Viossi stood by the window, her silhouette bathed in moonlight, the wedding gown shimmering like liquid silver. The night breeze tugged at her veil, and for a moment, she looked ethereal, untouchable.
I took a step closer, my boots soft against the stone floor, and she stiffened, her shoulders rising as if bracing for a blow.
“We must consummate the marriage tonight,” I said, my voice steady, matter-of-fact. “Otherwise, this union serves no purpose.”
She didn’t move, didn’t speak, but after a long pause, she turned to face me.
Her hands trembled as they reached for the ties of her veil, each movement slow and deliberate, as if peeling away her last defense. The gown fell away layer by layer, revealing the pale curve of her shoulders, the soft lines of her form. She was a vision, fragile yet captivating, standing in the moonlight like a statue carved from mist.
I watched, silent, as she bared herself to me. Her movements were hesitant, unpracticed, but she didn’t stop.
My wolf roared, urging me forward, but I held back, letting her set the pace.
When the final layer of her gown pooled at her feet, she stood before me, vulnerable and exposed, the veil still clinging to her face like a final shield.
I closed the distance between us, my fingers grazing the edge of her veil.
