Mated to the Alpha King (A Royal’s Tale Book 1)

It seemed like a normal occurrence to me these days, finding myself wondering if it was normal to constantly think of how much of a shit pile life could be.

One minute everything seems like peaches and kisses in the rain, and the next you just find yourself falling off a cliff, head down, towards your doom.

It didn’t get better at home; in fact, it got worse. I constantly found myself thinking of how fucked life could be with my perfectly faked happy family—when, in reality, my parents could never see eye to eye. Then here . . . I found myself thinking how much of a letdown life was every time I saw Theia still unconscious, lying in the hospital bed.

I suppose it was stupid of me, running from one mess to another—running from my parents’ potential divorce to Theia’s comatose self.

I suppose I shouldn’t even be shocked about this; I suppose this was something that should have been expected from two human parents—two adoptive human parents.

Sometimes I even found myself wondering how hard it must be being a human: You’re never able to know your true soul mate out of the billions all over the world, so instead, you just take a wild shot in the dark, hoping every time that the one you are with now is actually the one. Then, when they turn out to not be the one, you swear off love until you’re ready to take a blind leap again.

I suppose that was why, growing up, love scared me.

At first it was finding people who could actually appreciate and love me for the abomination I already knew myself to be at the age of eight.

Then, when I had found that sort of love, it was becoming attached to any new toy or thing. It was the fear of being disappointed, of being said no to.

In the last few days, that fear had evolved, and now . . . I was just scared of love—period.

Alexander looked like he was dying each day. Roman stalked around looking like a soldier on autopilot.

I watched as Roman flinched beside Alexander, while Alexander continued to caress Theia’s hair.

I looked down in understanding as I stood outside the hospital door.

Alpha Alexander’s mind block seemed to be slipping again. It often did nowadays. And whatever seeped through seemed to shake everyone around him to the core. I don’t know what it feels like to die, but I’m sure if I could feel death without dying, Alpha’s thoughts would be it.

It had been two weeks; two weeks had passed since the incident.

And it had been a week since Alexander took a risk and marked his mate, our luna—our queen.

Shakily exhaling a puff of breath, I looked up just in time to see Roman flinch for the second time. At this point, he stood with closed eyes and a tight jaw.

Thankfully for the poor guy, only a minute later, Alpha placed a final kiss on Theia’s forehead, turned, and stormed straight towards the door.

I moved back instantly, taking my position away from the door.

I was to stay with Theia now.

“His thoughts feel like an airliner crashing down on me. I don’t think I can control this anymore, Matt. I’m staying back.”

A sigh left my lips as I moved into the room and locked my eyes with Roman’s tortured red ones.

“I’m just afraid Alpha might do something rash. We have not made any progress, neither with Theia nor the culprit. Alpha seems to . . . to be on his last nerves.”

“Tell me about it,” Roman muttered loudly, shaking his head, as he slumped down on a sofa in a corner of the room, his fingers firmly pinching the bridge of his nose.

Another sigh left my lips as I turned to the beauty lying in the hospital bed. Her warm pink cheeks looked better than they had a week ago. In fact, she looked better than she ever had. But the fact still stood, Theia was still in a coma.

Our Theia was still comatose.

I slumped down on the chair beside her bed with a heavy breath, looking down at her hand as I did. After mustering enough courage, I grabbed onto it and rubbed her soft skin in slow circular motions.

“I wonder if Mrs. Anderson is hanging in better than she has been the past two weeks—you know, since that doctor finally decided to keep his mouth shut and genuinely help Theia recover rather than expose us.”

A loud snort escaped Rome’s lips as he leaned further into his seat, bringing one of his legs to settle on the other. “Bet he loved Mayor Johnson’s reaction.”

“Bet he’ll love the alpha’s reaction more if he ever has the misfortune of stumbling onto him again.”

Roman let out a bitter laugh. “That doctor should have known the mayor would know. Hell, everyone important knows. That’s how they know not to cross us.” His expression softened as his gaze moved from the window to her. “Do you think she’ll be okay?” he mumbled a bit shakily, twiddling his fingers—a sign of nervousness.

I turned to Theia. It hurt every time I did, but I couldn’t help it. I always wished I’d see her awake somehow, smiling at me. A soft sigh left my lips as I turned to Rome and got off the chair. Upon reaching him, I laid a palm on his shoulder and pressed it comfortingly.

“She’ll be fine, bro. She’ll be fine.”

Roman nodded as he switched positions and settled down further into the sofa. He closed his eyes as he let out a tired yawn.

I suppose he had not been able to have a proper night’s sleep. I turned to the window, my gaze on the dark-gray clouds—a telltale of how it would soon be raining.

I didn’t know when I’d begun walking, but soon I found myself at the open window, looking out at the dim day.

A chilly gust of wind swept into the room, and I shuddered. I suppose I should close the window; it’s getting a little chilly, I thought as I grabbed onto its frame and began pulling it shut.

“Matthew.”

I stopped.

Then, everything else stopped.

It had seemed like a weak whisper merely brought by the breeze, but I knew . . .

My whole body did a one-ninety as I turned to the bed. My heart seemed like it could beat right out of my chest.

Fuck . . .

“Theia.”

***

Theia Anderson

Dark—everything was dark.

But I could hear . . . these silent hums. Sometimes it felt like someone was talking to me. Sometimes I could understand them.

I could understand him.

This one hum, this one deep hum that always sent tiny tingles in me—sometimes it felt like I even knew this hum. Sometimes it felt like I couldn’t live without this hum.

Still, everything was dark, and I couldn’t move.

At times I tried to respond to the hums, maybe move a finger when I felt like they had touched my hand.

Sometimes I even tried to hum back.

But I could never.

It was as if everything was hazy. I couldn’t even conjure an explanation as to where I was.

Oftentimes only one thought stood stagnant in the darkness: death.

And death . . . felt like a fall.

So, was I still falling?

“Bet he . . . the alpha’s reaction . . . misfortune . . . him again.”

There it was again, the hums. This time it seemed like I could understand them. I concentrated a bit harder . . . I needed to listen. I needed to get out of this dark.

I tried and tried, but nothing came, just the quiet, blurry hums again.

I waited and waited . . . then it came.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?”

The soft, almost-whispering voice seemed almost alien but stronger than the normal hums. I tried concentrating on who it could be, but . . . I got nothing.

What was happening around me? Where was I?

The darkness seemed to be overtaking my senses again, but I fought through it. I wasn’t going to let it win.

I needed to hear that familiar voice again, the one that sent tingles in my mind.

“She’ll be fine, bro. She’ll be fine.”

Wait—I know that voice. I know— Who is this voice—this hum?

I really, really needed to talk to these hums. I really needed to ask them about the one that sent tingles in me. I really needed to get out.

It was at that moment that I felt myself land . . . in strong, able arms, and these familiar bright blue eyes shone down on me. Slowly, the bright blues dulled down to warm browns, the strong features turned almost soft, and the slightly wavy hair molded into straight strands.

Then I knew whose voice it was . . .

The darkness in my head began fading into me as I ripped my eyes open. The blinding light in the room almost had me gluing my eyes back shut, but I found myself blinking frantically instead. The numbing pain in the back of my head came rushing back, and I almost groaned in agony.

That, however, was not the first thing I wanted to utter, so instead, with all the strength I could muster, I managed to utter the only thing I knew right now: “Matthew.”

It came out weaker than I had hoped it would, but somehow he heard and almost lost his balance as he shot towards me.

The warm browns I would recognize anywhere swirled with everything from disbelief to relief. And when he rushed towards me, I gladly managed to put up a shaky smile.

“Theia.”

Then I noticed another guy in the room. Tall, wavy shoulder-length dark hair, dark eyes that seemed to sear into my soul—he, too, rushed towards me.

But I frowned.

After glancing at Matthew for a second, I looked back at the muscular boy.

“W-who are you?”

***

Romanov Naight

Fuck everything! She doesn’t remember anything—nothing past her first day at school, nothing beyond Matthew and those preppy friends of hers! She probably doesn’t even remember Alexander. Hell . . . she doesn’t even remember me. Fuck everything! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

I swept my hand across the coffee table and glanced blankly as the whole glass tabletop toppled over and crashed into the floor.

The telltale sound of loud growls and havoc occurring in the room across the castle alerted almost everyone of the current condition of our king.

The man had lost his final thread. Heck, even I could understand how devastated and angry he felt!

Theia had clung onto Matthew’s shirt practically the whole time until her parents, Alex, Marley, and everyone came over.

Somehow I found it strange that the doctor, Lucian, had allowed Mr. and Mrs. Anderson to tell Theia about everything—how many weeks had passed, how things had changed—except the truth about us werewolves, as well as the truth about Bryce.

Somehow, when Theia had managed to convince her parents to go back home, she resorted to clutching Matthew’s shirt again.

Needless to say, I still felt like ripping Matthew and his shirt away.

It was fifteen minutes into being “alone” when Theia noticed that I had not moved from my spot in the corner of the room.

What she did next almost shocked the pants off of me: she called me by my name—Rome.

Somehow she thought I looked like a Rome.

I was glad when Matthew told her about how we were good friends. It was only then Theia allowed me to move closer to her.

The hug that came next seemed automatic.

And strangely, she didn’t pull away.

Her right hand, though, still clung to Matthews shirt.

I suppose she felt safe with him.

He was, after all, the last person she had seen before going blank. He had, after all, saved her life.

Another loud crash echoed through the castle, followed by a tortured cry.

I could understand Alexander’s pain.

Mr. and Mrs. Anderson had not allowed Alexander to visit Theia, laying out some crap about not stressing her too much on such a delicate day.

I thought it was all bull. It was practically a crime. No one could keep a mate away from the other. That was not acceptable—never acceptable.

How Alexander had controlled himself, I would never know.

But I knew that Theia, although unknowingly, was looking for Alexander.

I had seen her looking into everyone’s eyes before talking to them. Each time, disappointment flashed in her eyes before she put the mask on again.

Letting out a growl of my own, I looked up into the mirror.

The gashes on my fist were already healing.

I rolled my eyes as the smell of distant blood wafted through the air and touched my nostrils. Across the castle, Alexander also seemed to be having a bloodbath. His blood always did have a pungent iron smell.

Letting out a loud scoff, I marched into my bathroom and shut the door behind me.

The mixture of the scent of Alexander’s blood with that of mine made me want to barf. I needed a fucking bath.

***

Theia Anderson

I never found him, the familiar hum I’d heard when I was in a coma.

Somehow, I felt like he had the bright-blue eyes I’d seen just before they dulled into browns. I suppose that was how I found myself looking for those blues—the blues that showed me a slice of the sky.

However, that was only a part of what I was looking for. The tinge of brown on the upper edge of his blues, the brown that matched mine—I couldn’t even find it.

It was how I got to laying here now, thinking about the voice I could have just imagined and the eyes I could have just made up.

Had he shown up today?

Did he even exist?

Was he just an angel that had sheltered me in the darkness of my coma?

I didn’t know.

For now, though, I knew that the memory of his familiar hums telling me that everything would be okay, would help me through the night.

I sighed as I closed my eyes and leaned into the soapy-smelling pillows.

I could feel the painkillers work their way through my headache and into my system.

Everything felt hazy as I pulled the bedcovers over my chest.

The knowledge of my dad sleeping on the sofa in the far corner of the room made me feel more safe.

As the final waves of light faltered away from my eyes, I let myself fall into the arms of Morpheus. Somehow, in my mind . . . he had those familiar blue eyes with the tinge of brown that mirrored mine.

It was in no time that darkness took over.

This time, however, it felt almost soothing.