Too Beautiful for the Alpha

Chapter 29

I walk on ahead through the trees as Theodore follows behind me. "How could she do that in front of

everyone? How can anyone take me seriously after seeing her pour a drink all over me? No one is

going to respect me as their Luna now. I'm a joke! I mean, look at me," I grab my dress and frown at

the giant red stain. "I knew going to that stupid gathering was going to be a mistake. It always is. It was

when I met James, too." I peer back at Theodore. "How could you take me out and not her? She

attacked me."

"You're drunk, Rae. If you actually got hurt I would be as good as dead."

I roll my eyes and stumble along the path, tripping over rocks. "I'm never going to another gathering

again. Never. Can we—can we even go back? Or is his father still there?"

"We were at the gathering for, I don't know, three hours. He should be gone."

I stop and look back at him again. "Three hours? How?"

"You were busy drinking." Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

I groan. "Stop acting like I'm the only one who made a fool out of myself."

Theodore catches up and I walk along beside him. "No, I know I made a fool of myself. I just need to

sober up before bringing you back or Alpha Grant is going to kill me. It would be best if he didn't know

that I drank as well."

Once we're at the front steps, Theodore lightly slaps his cheeks a few times before walking up and

ringing the doorbell. He stands straight while I tiredly heave myself up each step. James is quick to

answer. "You're back later than expected," he says right off the bat and looks down to me. "Is she

drunk?"

Theodore clears his throat. "She had a few drinks at the gathering."

I give him a look before moving past James and going into the house. I hear James mutter a few words

to Theodore before shutting the door and turning to me. "What's all over your dress? Wine?"

I look down at my dress and thumb the fabric, the wine already dry. "Yes. Claire threw her drink at me

in front of everyone... I'm going to shower now."

James follows me up the steps, asking a million questions. "What do you mean she threw her drink at

you? Why did she do that? What did you do? Did she try to hurt you?"

I walk into my bedroom, my head spinning, and I try to unzip my dress. James cuts my struggling short

and unzips it for me, and I shrug it off right in front of him before locking myself in the bathroom. I hear

him say something in a hushed tone as I avoid the mirror and head straight into the shower. With my

underwear on, I lift up the handle and drench myself in freezing water, my skin turning blue. Lazily, I

pull off my remaining clothes and toss them into the bathtub before shutting the door and bringing

myself to the shower floor.

Stray tears roll down my cheeks and I curse before turning the water temperature up, not able to take

the cold any longer. As I settle back down in the corner of the shower, I bump my head on the wall as I

look up, triggering more tears to fall. I nurse the spot as the wine from my skin washes off and drains

away. Never have I felt so stupid. So embarrassed. I was an idiot in front of everyone, everyone who's

supposed to respect me.

I reach up and grab my razor from the soap holder, thinking about Julianna. I remember her talking

about being too afraid to do it in the bath, I remember finding her razor under the sink. Did she die in

the bath? Did she do it? James told me that she killed herself, but not how. The blade was missing, so I

can only assume.

I sigh and move to set my razor down, my thumb accidentally running over the blade. I drop the razor

and scrunch my hand into a fist, locking my thumb inside. While biting down, I open my hand and

examine the cut. Blood runs down my finger and it feels as if the skin is open in a flap. I run it under the

water and study my wrinkled skin, getting a better look at it. It makes me uneasy, so I turn off the water

and step out, drying myself off with my thumb wrapped in tissues.

Wondering if James is still in the bedroom, I call out for him.

"Yes?" He answers.

"Can you grab me clothes?" I ask, leaning against the door, wrapped in a towel. He doesn't respond,

but I hear shuffling. I peak out and take the clothes from him, my face red and puffy-eyed. I quickly

close the door before he can get a good look, and I pull on the pajamas, finding it difficult with my

poorly-wrapped finger. After I swiftly fan my eyes and replace the soaked tissues, I hesitantly leave the

bathroom.

James is sitting on the bed, clearly waiting for me. His eyes shoot up when he sees me walk out, and I

want to shrink and disappear. Dodging a conversation about my stained dress, I lift up my sliced finger.

"I think I need a band-aid, I keep bleeding through."

I near him and show him the wound, removing the bloody tissue. "How did you do this?" He asks,

placing the tissue back on and taking me downstairs.

"I accidentally cut it on my razor," I explain, holding my thumb close to my chest as we enter the

kitchen.

James opens up the medicine cabinet and takes out a small box of band-aids. He grabs one and tears

open the paper before handing it to me. "Accidentally?"

"Yes," I murmur while wrapping it around my thumb, tight enough to hopefully seal the cut. "Why would

I have done it on purpose?" My eyes find his and I see his uncertainty.

The kitchen is dimly light by the hallway light, and his face is drinking it up. "I didn't mean it like that."

"But you did," I accuse him, our voices staying low even though we are the only ones in the house. "I

told you that I am nothing like your mother, not like that, okay? Don't worry about such things."

James nods and closes the cabinet. "Okay, I'm sorry."

"I just—I don't want you to think like that."

He brings his hand up to my face, brushing my wet hair out of the way. "Then I won't."

"Did your father say something about it? About you not needing a Mate? I don't want him getting into

your head."

"He didn't and he's not. I couldn't believe him even if he did, I know that I need you, Rae."

I look up at him, my eyes directly into his. "Good."

This newly revealed need seems to swell and fill the room and James asks, "Do you need me, Rae?"

An odd excitement flourishes inside of me. I know if I say it, I'll be starting something that I won't be

coming back from. Do I want to engulf myself in him? Do I want to drown in his everything? Do I want

to give in like my body has been dying to? "Yes. I do. I need you, James."

He takes in a breath that seems to fuel his whole body and I watch like a child playing with fire. He

leans down and brings his lips to mine, his hand on my back, bringing me closer. The sensation makes

me question why I had stopped last time, how I stopped. With each second we venture deeper, and I

know deep down that I don't want it to end. I want to feel the depths and visit over and over again. The

kiss only becomes more intense, and I rely on my natural instinct as we cross our last boundary. His

hand on my back simply brings up my shirt a bit, giving me the pleasure of his skin on mine. His hand

presses against me and the excitement flourishes even more.

Then comes the hints of self-consciousness, the worries of Claire and Old Rae and old thoughts about

myself. Here comes the reality of what I am leading to, but I want it all to go away. I beg it all to go

away. I have a gorgeous, intimidating, intense, and changed man for a Mate who I need and who

needs me, and that's all I want. That's all I want to think about. I don't need Old Rae ruining this for me.

James needs me. Not her. That's all. If I want an experience without my anxious, sad self, then I will

have it. I deserve it. His touch is enough to distract me.

I gently pull away and he begins to leave soft kisses down my jaw and onto my neck which makes my

heart race. "James," I murmur, high off of my emotions, "James, I need you."

"I know," he mumbles against my skin, but I need him to take me more seriously.

"No, James. I want you."

He pulls away, leaving me cold. "You've been drinking."

"I've never been more sober," I smile just thinking about it and I reach out to him, but he steps back,

catching me off guard.

"No, Rae. Not tonight."

My heart plummets to the ground. My entire body tenses and falls and weighs me down. An intense

numbness spreads throughout me and a deep, encumbering panic suffocates me. I can't breathe. I

can't think. My throat seems to swell shut and I pray to the heavens that the tears welling in my eyes

don't fall.

It is my worst nightmare come to life. All I can hear is my heart beating in my ears. My chest hurts, it

feels as if it's caving in. "Oh," I manage to breathe out. "Okay."

"Rae—"

"No, no it's, uh, it's fine. Um, I'm going to—I'm going to go to bed."

I walk into the light of the hallway before rushing up into the darkness of my room, shutting off all of the

lights except for the single lamp beside my bed. I lock the door and let the tears fall, and they don't

seem to stop. It's humiliation. It's my most personal fear. It's Old Rae squeezing my throat and Claire

laughing in my face. It's my mother telling me that I am a terrible Luna and Noah amused that I'm

mated to an Alpha. It's being thrown to the dogs. It's listening to him fuck another woman for three

weeks. It's laying under a dead wolf and relating to a dead woman. It's having a drink thrown in my face

and being yelled at to get out. It's drinking the pain away. It's never being her. It's not being able to live

like this. It's being told that I'm not wanted.

He grabbed me and pushed me against a wall to yell in my face that he doesn't want me. That's what

this is. That's what this feels like.

My heart vibrates in my chest, my whole body shaking. My hands cling to everything just to keep

myself standing, then I see the bathroom door. I float towards it like a ghost, like I no longer need to

breathe. There's something romantic about it, about my hand pushing it open, about my bare feet on

the tile floor, about the bathtub.

I bite my lip as my eyes trickle down to the shower floor where my razor lays. I take it and caress it and

hold it with care before bending the plastic. Something ignites inside of me when the snapping hits my

ears. I can't help but smile as tears slip past my lips. Then I lower myself into the empty tub, and I lay

back, gripping the single blade in-between my two fingers. Then I dream. I dream of what I couldn't

have here, but what I can have there.

"He needs you, Rae," I whisper to myself, "don't you know that? He told you that he needs you."

I bring the blade to my skin, not knowing what I'll do. I stare at it for a minute before the knocking

comes to my door. "Rae," he calls for me, "Rae, please open the door. Can we talk?"

"No," I yell back, my hand shaking. "No, I want to be alone!"

"Please just open the door."

"Just leave me alone, James!" I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Rae—No, open the door right now," he demands, his voice growing serious.

"Go away! Can't you just leave me alone for two seconds!" I take the blade from my skin, losing focus.

"Open the door right now or I'm breaking it down," he threatens. "Do you hear me, Rae? Open the

damn door!"

I groan loudly, jumping when I hear him banging on the door. I scramble up, drop the blade, and hurry

to the bathroom door. The bedroom door hits the floor and I push the bathroom door shut, but not fast

enough. James forces it open and gets inside. He scans the room and I blurt, "I wasn't going to do it."

His eyes single in on the tub and my heart stops. He reaches down and grabs the blade then grabs the

broken razor from the counter.

"I wasn't going to do it."

He turns to me as I breakdown and he grabs my arm, forcing me out of the room. James brings me

down the hall into his bedroom and lets go as he enters his bathroom. He comes out with another razor

in his hand then walks out his bedroom doors.

I fall to the floor and cry into my hands, not sure what to do anymore. Everything feels like a dream,

and I don't know how to wake up.

James returns and closes the doors behind him. He picks me up from the ground and wraps his arms

around me, his hand rubbing my back. "Come on," he murmurs and leads me to the bed. He pulls back

the covers and I get in, moving over for him to lay beside me. He holds me and strokes my hair while

tears fall onto the pillows.

"I wasn't going to do it."