Too Beautiful for the Alpha

Chapter 36

I sit in the dirt, against a tree, the bark scratching my bare back, and I stay curled up. A thin fog gathers

around me, the air frigid. My fingers lose color and I feel as if these are the sensations of death.

Everything is cold, so painfully and relentlessly cold. The feeling in my toes fade and I contemplate

shifting again to stay alive. I can't be too far, I can't be off of pack land. I should go back but I'm scared

that his father will grab me again, that he'll choke me and cut me as he did his wife. Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

'You didn't finish the diary, did you?'

A harsh shiver overcomes me and I hold my bare body tighter, ready to shift even though my wolf is

exhausted. This is what I get for not letting her out enough, she grows weak.

I need to go back, I need to find James, he needs to know the truth about his—

I jolt forward, hearing a distant voice.

It comes again.

I attempt to stand up, my limbs frozen in place and sore. My fingers grip at the bark of the tree, prying

me from the ground, dirt getting under my nails. Then I feel him. His scent grows strong in the air.

"Rae!"

Relieved, I throw my head back. "James!" My voice is rough, hardly loud enough to sound like a yell.

"I'm here!"

I wobble in the direction of his voice, back from where I came. My ankles bend and my bare feet mold

over rocks and dead brush, and I use my hands to make myself decent, covering my body where

needed. The wind is sharp against me, like little needles. "James?" I call again.

He appears and hurries over to me, holding my robe. I knew he was the wolf who brought his father to

the ground, the one who... He must have seen me run off. James grabs my arm and holds me up,

keeping me stable as I wrap myself up. He catches a glimpse of the growing bruise on my hip and

gently brushes his hand over it before the soft fabric of the robe can cover it.

"H-He killed your mother," I mumble, telling him what he deserves to know. "He tried to kill me. He tried

to get me in the bathtub."

James pulls me in, his fingers seeping into my hair as he holds me close as if the sky were falling. "We

have to go back, Rae. You're freezing."

I tense. "Is he—"

"He's gone," James says simply. "Come on."

He holds most of my weight as I limp along until he decides to carry me the rest of the way. I bask in

his warmth, thawing my skin. His grip on me is tight, but I don't tell him to ease up, I let him have me.

"I'm okay," I say, needing him to process it.

"You're not. Your side is purple."

"I'll be okay."

He glances down at me, looking extremely frustrated and upset, but mostly angry. "He killed my

mother. And he almost took you too," he thinks over, letting out his jumbled thoughts into the open air.

"If I didn't get there..."

"Don't," I murmur against him, not wanting him to think about 'what if's.'

When we make it back to the house, my eyes trail to the ground, no longer seeing his father where he

laid before. I'm glad. I don't want to see his dead body, I don't want to see what James has done. The

fact is inevitable, he killed his father to protect me. He saw the look on my face as I ran out of the

house, he saw him chasing me. He heard the screams.

He didn't even need to think over the possibilities. All he needed to see was my fear. I wrap my arms

around him now before he puts me down at the door. Tears well in my eyes but I make sure they don't

fall. "Tell me what happened," he says, easing me inside.

I sit down in the living room, James standing before me. "I was sleeping and heard the bedroom door

open. He just grabbed me and pulled me into the bathroom," recalling it makes the anxious feelings

return, "he pushed me to the ground. I saw he had a knife or blade or something before he pulled me

into the bathtub."

James seems uncomfortable and stiff, but I continue, "He tried to cut me but I wouldn't let him so he

choked me," my voice becomes shaky. "I thought I was going to die, but I-I got out and that's when I

bruised my hip. I fell out of the tub and landed on it. I don't know, he was grabbing me feet s-so I kicked

him. I ran downstairs and out the door while he followed me and grabbed my hair and... Then I ran out

of the house and you were the last thing I saw." The tears fall now, and I let them. "H-He was going to

make you think I'd done it myself, just like your mother. He was going to kill me too, he was going to

make you find me like that."

"It's over now. He's dead."

"I know that, but you—"

James grows impatient. "He's dead, Rae."

"I know, but—"

"I killed him, Rae," he nearly shouts at me. "Stop worrying about it!"

I move back. "James," my voice is slow and careful.

He moves away from me, running his hand through his hair before swiping up the vase on the coffee

table and throwing it at the wall. It shatters and I jump back, staring at the water and fresh flowers and

glass on the floor, and the splash on the wall that slowly drips down to the mess. Gail always puts

flowers in the vase. "James!" I shout, moving to the mess but he holds me back.

He curses to himself, clearly in an inner conflict. "Stay away from the glass."

I obey but don't let it go. I grab him and make him look at me. Before I can speak he says, "You know I

would do anything for you, Rae. You know that, don't you?" I nod. "I just, I need you to—to stay alive,

Rae. Alright?"

"Okay."

He takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry you killed your father."

James gives me a look, a sad look that I've never seen from him. It holds grief. "It's alright. You're

okay."

"I'm sorry," I say again, and he holds me again. He squeezes as if he needs to absorb me. "I'm sorry,

James. I'm so sorry."

We lay in bed together for the night, not sleeping just laying. I fear that his father will come for me in my

dreams, and James fears dreaming of it, of killing him again. James doesn't tell me where the body

went, and I don't mention the diaries. I don't tell him his father's last words. He shouldn't read her pain.

He shouldn't read of them drifting apart and the eventual hatred that will suffocate her. I am no

hypocrite, I will never read them myself either. I know the effects of those books.

I do wonder, though. How much hatred do you have to feel towards your mate to be able to kill them?

An incomprehensible amount. I wonder how I became so inadequate in his father's mind to the point

where he must get rid of me. Or maybe he didn't see me. Maybe he saw his mate. Maybe he was

reliving his past. It's frustrating to never know.

It's hard knowing that we'll have to move on from such an event so quickly. I can't live out the rest of my

days thinking and fearing over the one day I almost died. James cannot grieve his father's death and

the truth of his mother's while needing to run a pack. After this night, after our hours of holding each

other, the shock must end. This is the time when I become a leader and where James realizes his true

position. This is where we move on, forever only having a few hours. But I think it will be easier than I

predict. There is still so much that needs to happen, so much that will distract us.

"Rae?" James calls, and I hum, his arms tightening around me as we lay buried in the blankets. "I love

you."

I let out a breath, a light, airy warmth sparking inside of me. "I love you, too."

January 20th, 1993

I reach seven months today. Theresa was right, it must have been Martha. I suppose her healing just

does not work on me. But I am here now, and I wait restlessly for the day my baby will come. The

doctor says I visit him too much, and I am sure it is because a part of me wants him to tell me that the

process has somehow magically sped up for me. I went to see him yesterday, and he says everything

is moving along just fine and that I need to be patient. Obviously, he has never been pregnant before.

Every day feels like a year, and I just want him out.

James did not come with me yesterday, but I did not expect him to. He has not come to an appointment

since the first one. As my belly grows bigger, he grows snappy and moody, always yelling at me for the

most pointless things. Theresa tells me he is just nervous and anxious, but I cannot help but think he

hates the baby. James has no reason to, he has done nothing to him. I even brought up the idea of

naming the baby after him but that only lit him up more.

We do not sleep together at night, not for nearly a year. It worries me. I feel like we are growing too far

apart to be fixed. He avoids me like he once did. I feel like things are going back to the way they were,

only worse. Even my mother tells me to leave, to come stay with her until the baby is born to give

James some breathing room. He should not need breathing room! I am his mate and I am carrying his

child, how can he act as if he hates me? It is as if our bond has been completely destroyed.

The Moon Goddess must be taking her revenge, hating the fact that I have my baby, so she takes

away my love. Why can I not have both? Why must she have one?

Is it wrong that I chose my baby over James? Is it wrong that some days, when he is fuming, I wish she

would take him completely? Yes. Yes, it is. It feels wrong.

But some days, when he is fuming, I cannot help but think that he wants the Moon Goddess to take me

completely as well.

THE END