Betrayed Heiress: My Second Chance Mate is A Lycan King

Aira’s POV

The night is silent and cold. It is comforting yet mystic.

I sit in front of Alexander, and I do not know for how long. We have been out here passing the bottle of whiskey to one another in silence. At times I would lift my gaze to get a good look at the moon; the sight alone would fill me with so much comfort I could not even begin to fathom.

Occasionally, I would feel Alexander’s eyes on me. But whenever I look at him, his eyes are on something else. It was strange; it made me believe that it could perhaps be the effects of the alcohol.

He hands me the bottle, and I am shocked to see that we are more than halfway through. Tilting my head back, I take down the intoxicating liquid. A groan escapes my lips as it leaves a burning sensation in my throat. I hand it back to him.Content is property of NôvelDrama.Org.

“Aira.”

The way he says my name makes a shiver go down my spine. His eyes are hooded and dark. I can’t tell if his wolf was struggling to take control of him or if this is how he appears when drunk. But I hate to admit it; he actually looks pretty hot.

I just admire the way he illuminates his features while casting a dark shadow on the other half of his face. His dark eyes almost looked honey brown, and his lips appeared good enough to kiss. Snap out of it, Aira!

“Yes, alpha?”

He purses his lips for some time, then says, “For tonight, you may call me Alexander.”

I am unable to help the grin that lifts the corners of my lips. “Why the sudden change?” I ask and he shrugs.

“I guess you could say I just want to be able to have one informal conversation with you. Even though it pains me to the core that you are a werewolf, you are still my mate, and I want to get to know you.”

My eyebrows shoot to the top of my head and my eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. I blink up at him, waiting for him to call bluff or even April fools or something. But he doesn’t.

I am unable to control the chuckle that leaves my lips. Placing my hand on my head, I say, “Man, we must really be drunk.”

“I am not saying this because of the alcohol, Aira,” he says with all seriousness. There is something about the way he says my name that makes me actually like it. He says it so differently from others, so passionately.

He leans closer, placing his elbows on his knees. His gaze grows in intensity, and I feel so small before him.

“I am saying this because it’s something I have always wanted to say. Alcohol doesn’t make me a liar; it makes me honest.”

Sinking back into my chair, I hum. “You mean it gives you confidence.” A grin lifts my lips, and I say, “The big bad Alexander is too scared to show emotion, and he only does so with the help of a little alcohol. Am I right?”

He rolls his eyes and sinks into his chair. “Whatever you choose to believe.”

I am unable to control my smile as I look at him. I cannot believe I am actually having a real conversation with Alexander without either of us throwing a tantrum or screaming at each other. But I should not let my guard down. I have to remember that he is only this way because he is drunk.

From tomorrow on, things will just go back to normal. He will hate me. The maids will do everything to make my life miserable. And I will have Carla as my only friend.

I might as well enjoy this night; I might never get another one like this in years.

“Ask away,” I say, snatching the bottle from him and taking a gulp of the alcohol.

“Where are your parents?”

What a good conversation starter!

As much as I would love to open up to Alexander, I have to remember that he is an asshole. I cannot afford to let him know every detail of my past, not just yet.

I return my gaze to the moon, feeling a familiar ache in my heart as I think of the two people I loved more than anything or anyone in my life.

“They are dead.”

He does not say anything. I do not know why, but I had expected him to say what everyone usually says when I talk about my parents. Show pity, empathy, sympathy, or maybe ask questions like, How did it happen? Am I okay? Or even a simple ‘I am sorry for your loss.’

But he does none of this. Of course, he would be different.

“Do you have siblings?” he asks after a moment of silence.

“I have a twin sister,” I reply, and this time I get a reaction out of him. It was almost unnoticeable, but I caught it. That small fraction of surprise in his eyes could have easily been missed if I had blinked, but thankfully I didn’t.

“Where is she now?”

In the arms of my mate, in my own house, enjoying my own money while I am out here stuck here with you.

I shrug and feign nonchalance. “After my parents died, we kind of split up. We did not really like each other; our parents were the only ones keeping us sane and together. Now they are gone. We decided it was best. We just went our separate ways.”

In a way, I was telling the truth. Not completely, but there are fractions of the truth in there.

His eyelids were narrow, and I knew he knew something was off. But I do not give him the chance to counter what I just said. I change the topic by throwing the same questions at him.

“And what about you? Where are your parents? Do you have siblings? What was your childhood like?” I asked, and I could have sworn I watched his jaw tick.

I suppose those questions did not exactly have happy answers.

I can see the memories flooding back into his mind through his eyes. His grip on the bottle tightens, and I gently take it from him before he loses control of himself.

“My dad is alive and well. He is actually in this palace; he likes to keep to himself and is usually very secretive. Almost anti-social,” a ghost of a smile lifts his lips as he talks about his dad. Okay, this is good. Not as bad as I thought. I did not know why, but I had expected him to have some sort of Daddy issues.

He continues, “That is probably why you have never met him. He does know you, though. As a matter of fact, he was the one who convinced me to release you that day, my beta, and my men found you in the woods.”

A tight smile stretches my lips, and I say, “Gee, and I thought that was out of the kindness of your own heart.”

His chuckle is raspy; it is dark and almost evil. Just like him.

“There is no kindness in my heart.”

I beg to differ.

Yes, Alexander is a maniac and can be incredibly scary, but I know that there is something good in him somewhere. He has shown it to me on various occasions. But then again, I suppose that is because I am his mate. It is in his nature to be kind to me, even if he does hate me.

His chin tightens when he continues. “I have no siblings, but my mother took in a boy when I was about ten years old. His name was Jared. I did grow up with him; he was my best friend for over a decade. I considered him my brother, actually.”

I do not know why, but this piques my interest. I lean forward and ask, “What happened to him?”

Alexander’s eyes lock with mine, and what he says next leaves me uneasy.

“Shit. Shit happened. There was this maid who occasionally brought her daughter here; her name was Sophia, I believe. Jared was smitten by her. Hell, we all knew they were mates because you could barely keep them apart. I got, um, upset that he spent most of his time with her instead of me. There was a day Jared and I were playing beside the cars; we were playing with make-believe swords, and I mistakenly punctured a tire. Jared wanted us to inform someone of it immediately, but I thought whoever would use the car would notice.”

Suddenly, he stops talking.

That is when I saw it. That is when I see the hurt, the sadness, and the regret. What in the world happened that day?

“Alex? What happened?” I inquire, and his eyelids fall shut.

“That day, my mother, Sophia, and her mother all used that car to go into town. That was the first and very last day rogues attacked this kingdom. From the reports we got, their driver tried to outrun the rogues but ended up losing control of the vehicle. The car fell into a gully, and they all died.”

My heart plummets to the pit of my stomach, and my blood freezes in my veins. I do not know what gets over me when I get up from my seat. I crouch between his legs and take his face in my hands.

“I am so sorry.”

He shrugs, and I can see his struggle to act like he doesn’t care, but he does. I can see it.

“That was a messed-up time for me. When Jared found out, he lost his mind. He loved my mother as his own, and he loved Sophia more than anything. He lost both of them, and he blamed me for it, and he was right. It was all my fault.” He says this, and I shake my head in denial.

“You were just a kid; it wasn’t your fault. I mean, who would not notice a flat tire before getting into a car?” I say this, trying to lift the burden off his chest.

“It does not matter. That accident could have been prevented if I had listened to Jared and said something. He lost the people he loved most because of me,” he says, and I caught the little hurt laced in his tone as he uttered the last part.

My finger caresses his cheek softly, and my chest… my god, it actually aches seeing him like this. Despite the hell he has put me through, seeing him like this physically hurts.

“You also lost someone you love; you lost your mother,” I remind him, and I watch his eyes darken. Rising to my feet, I take his hands in mine. “Come on, you are barely awake; let’s get you to bed.”

“I am fine,” he mutters, but still gets up when I pull him up. I lead him to his bedroom, which is just down the hall. I help him into bed and gasp when he pulls me down with him.

“Alex-” My words are cut short when he seals my lips with his. The kiss is different from the others; it is soft and gentle. Almost loving.

When we pull away, his eyes are barely open. “Thank you.”

I am about to ask what for, but his soft snores suggest that would be pointless. I stare at Alexander’s sleeping form in awe. After tonight, I think I can see Alexander for who he really is.

A hurt child.

A child burdened with guilt and regret for years.

But it will never excuse the fact that he is a monster. I lost my child because of him.

And I will never forgive him for that.

Never.