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

The last siren went off, indicating the end of the day, and I quickly made my way towards the parking lot. The slow tingle of hope for Bryce coming over stayed in the back of my mind as I walked further away from the school building.

“Anderson, wait!” a voice called out behind me.

I turned around to see none other than Matthew running towards me.I smiled as I watched a dozen girls sigh dreamily when Matt passed them.

“What’s up, Jefferson?” I asked with a chuckle, putting an arm around Matthew, as we continued to walk towards his jeep.

He was my ride after all.

“Heard you caught Rome’s eye in art class,” he drawled, as if cautious about not hitting a sore spot.

I groaned, “Ugh, yes! That boy makes me so mad. Who is he anyway?”

Matthew chuckled. “Roman Naight, only child of Alistair Naight, the great Roman tycoon, sole heir to his father’s many incredibly successful companies, professional painter, black belt in karate, and a total lady-killer.”

I flinched at the “lady-killer” part.

“I knew he resembled Jeff the Killer for a reason,” I cried, actually alarmed. “In case he kills me, you have full permission to open that box I keep under my bed all the time.”

Matthew suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to look at me with concern before he burst into hysterics, and as blonde as I was, I wanted to cry.

“Jeff the Killer doesn’t exist, Thi. God, you’re so cute!” Matthew chuckled again as he pinched my cheeks.

This was so not fair. I was eighteen, for God’s sake!

“Yes, he does. And I hate chu,” I grumbled, rubbing my slightly sore cheeks—he didn’t have to pinch them so hard!

“I love you too, pump—”

“Theia,” the dark, slightly husky voice I had grown to be afraid of spoke behind me, causing both Matthew and me to instantly turn around, startled.

How could someone creep up on someone so quietly while they were walking?

“What the hell!” I hissed. “Do you get paid to scare people like that!”

“We’re going to your place now? For the project?” Rome asked me, seeming irritated, totally ignoring my question.

“Project”? Today? What the— No! What! But the credits . . . Ugh.

“Okay,” I mumbled before looking at Matthew with a guilty smile.

Matthew chuckled upon seeing my expression and gave me a little sideways hug—best guy best friend ever!

“See ya later, Thi,” he called out as he waved at me before nodding at Roman, then getting into his jeep.

I turned to Jeff the Killer, folding my arms in front of me. “Well?”

His eyes narrowed at me before he grabbed my arm and started pulling me towards a black Audi R8.

Damn it, he had the car I wanted!

I tore my eyes away from my baby but instantly connected them back to it. Everybody else was staring at us.

“Damn it, Rome. Everyone is staring. Let go!” I hissed, making sure to glue my eyes to the beauty in front of me.

“Let them stare,” he muttered back indifferently as we reached the car, and he opened the door, motioning me to get in.

As quickly as I could, I placed my butt in the seat and fastened my seat belt before looking at him, and he was already seated in the driver’s seat!

How the hell is he so fast?

As I stared at him, he turned his face to me and lifted an eyebrow up. “Well?”

Oh yeah, he doesn’t know the way . . . Oh . . . Ha-ha . . . Ha! Er . . . Yeah.

“548 Woodslane Drive.”

“Do I look like a cab driver to you?” Rome growled suddenly, making me jump in my seat.

The hell!

“Take a left here,” I mumbled quietly before waiting for the moment to give him the next direction.

I could feel his eyes on me, but all I could think about was whether Bryce would show up. Maybe Rome and I could paint in the backyard so that if he came, I’d see him?

I smiled. That seemed like a good idea.

“Look, Theia, I know I’ve been a bit harsh, and well . . . I’ll try to be more civil, for the project’s sake, okay?” Roman grumbled, as if telling me that he was sorry even though he had not said it—as if saying it would actually burn his tongue.

That made me frown. Why had he made a fuss over having me as his muse when he could barely tolerate me?

It’s official, he hates you. This is his ultimate revenge. He’s a psycho.

“Why did you fuss over having me as your muse?” I blurted out almost suddenly.

Crap, I should put a plug in my mouth, for God’s sake. Now he will just yell more.

“Because I wanted to paint you.”

I looked at him. He was looking straight at the road.

Liar . . .

“Why did you want to paint me?”

His thick dark eyebrows dipped down as he frowned.

“Because you’re beautiful,” he replied, his tone sour.

I knew he hated saying it. Still, I grinned.

“Thanks. You’re beautiful too!” I chirped, my face glowing from the compliment.

Growing up, Mom had always told me, “When a man compliments you, hold your tongue because he may be lying. He may only be saying that to get into your pants, or your best friend’s. But at the end of the day, a woman deserves compliments, and guess what, you are beautiful.”

“I still don’t like you,” Rome muttered, his frown deepening, as he continued driving down the road.

Another left and I’d be home.

***

Sliding in the key, I unlocked the door and walked in, Rome tailing me with his canvases and paint bag.

“So this is my home,” I declared, smiling slightly, as I walked into the living room.

“Oh. You’re back, miss!”

I whirled around, barely escaping falling on my ass, shocked.

“Who are you?” I asked, startled, holding a palm to my chest.

The slightly elderly woman in front of me turned a shade red.

“I-I’m sorry, miss. I’m Agnus, and there is also Lilly. Mrs. Anderson appointed us as maids, o-only today.”

Her frightened demeanor made me frown.

I looked at Agnus. With dark-brown hair and a slightly plump face, she looked exactly how anyone would expect a great middle-aged mother figure to look. But her blue eyes weren’t staring at me in fright, no; she was staring at what was behind me.

I followed her gaze . . . to Rome.

What was weird was that Rome was glaring at her.

What’s his deal?

Shrugging off the weird vibe going around, I focused my eyes on the younger woman now standing beside Agnus. I smiled. She must be Lilly.

I walked towards the women, still smiling, and took them by surprise as I hugged them both. “We’re all going to be good friends. Thank you for applying to work here.”

Both of them smiled at me genuinely, their eyes now twinkling with warmth.

“I’ll go and make you and your guest some hot chocolate. I also baked some cookies.” Agnus smiled warmly, then she turned around and sped towards the kitchen.

Lilly gave me her own soft smile before she walked after Agnus.

Without turning around, I moved towards the stairs. Rome caught my drift and followed. I could hear another pair of footsteps against the wooden floor behind me.

After walking towards my bedroom at the end of the hallway, I reached out to open the elaborately designed doors and walked in.

Finally, I was home.

I suppose Agnus or Lilly had opened the curtains because the castle amid the dark pine trees seemed to be on full display as the open windows allowed the cool afternoon breeze to dance into the room, the curtains soaring with the air.

“So this is my room.” I smiled as I turned around and found Rome looking at the view with wide eyes. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I mumbled, smiling, looking back at the castle fondly.

I wonder how it would be like to see my house from one of those towers?

“Yes, it is,” Rome breathed, his eyes still on the castle.

I shrugged the bag off my shoulder and plugged my iPhone and iPod in before sitting on the bed.

Finally breaking his stare, Rome brought his gaze to mine. “We need to bond.”

Those four words shocked me—so much so that my jaw really did fall towards the ground as I stared at hime, wide-eyed.

Jeff the Killer just told me that we needed to bond? Theia Anderson, you have officially lost it!

“I need to know what inspires you. I need to paint you, you know. I need to view you in a certain light,” he continued as I carried on staring at him, the scowl on his face showing his apparent irritation.

“What light do you see me in now?” I asked before I could stop myself and instantly wanted to face-palm.

Sometimes I just didn’t know when to stop.

The tiny beauty mark just above Rome’s mouth twitched as his expression turned into that of anger.

Wrong move, Thi!

As if sensing my alarm, he slowly turned to me and stopped where I could see his dark eyes peering into mine with a good amount of detail.

“Golden—you’re golden, Theia.”

***

I watched as the vines that had begun to surround the ropes of the swing started to show signs of bloom—September flowers.

“So . . .” I drawled as I turned to Rome, who seemed to be sketching something on his sketch pad.

Almost immediately, his eyes left the pad and moved towards me.

“Don’t move,” he mumbled as he started to gracefully move his pencil along the pad again.

I blushed upon realizing that while I’d been busy gawking at the woods and swing, he was actually sketching me.

I fiddled around with the brown shirt I had worn after the shower. I hadn’t forgotten to hide the love bite with a bit of concealer. The last thing I needed was to be teased by this chump.

I was glad I had showered. I just could not stand not showering soon after school. It was slightly not normal. But hey, it kept me clean and smelling like roses while my friend—the angry young man here—smelled like sweat and raw power. I guess the raw power was permanent.

“So, how come you’re so mean?” I asked, trying my hardest not to move. This was getting harder by the minute.

“I said don’t move!” he growled as he placed his fingers on my chin and moved it further towards the swing.

“Well, aren’t you nice,” I retorted sarcastically, rubbing the tender skin in the spot he had just gripped.

“I try,” Rome replied almost immediately, sounding very indifferent. It took me everything not to turn around and smack him in the head.

***

“Let me see!” I yelled as I leaned towards Rome, trying to get a better look at the sketch pad, but he quickly closed the pad and shoved it into his bag. “I hate you!” I grumbled and got off the bench to do a little stretch.

It was getting pretty dark as we walked through the patio door. Before I turned to close it, I glanced at the swing once more.

Bryce had not come.

I followed Rome as he led us towards my bedroom and grabbed onto his canvases, which were resting against mine. Straightening up, he looked towards the window, which now showed the castle with lights on around most of the grounds, the first floor, and the Eastern tower.

He turned to me and attempted to deliver a faint smile, to which I responded with my own smile.

An attempt is better than nothing.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I mumbled after we’d walked out of my room and down the stairs.

He nodded and continued to walk.

Walking behind him, I continued to wonder: Who is Roman Naight? What is the condition of his soul, his heart? Why is he so cold? What could have made him this way?

All sorts of questions bubbled in my mind as I continued following Rome towards the front door. The amount of time in which he had familiarized himself with most of my house was actually quite scary.

Having put his stuff in the back seat of his car, he walked around and got into the driver’s seat. He spared me one last glance and a soft, awkward smile as he raised his hand for a small wave, then he pulled out of the driveway and onto the road.

I turned back to the front door, only one thing in my head: bed.

***

The next day went by the same way—a day well spent in school, having fun with the boys and Marley during lunch, then enduring Roman’s mood swings in art class.

The next day ended the same way: Bryce didn’t show up. I shrugged it off at first. Maybe he was busy? He’d said he would come back soon but didn’t say the next day. I suppose he was just doing something else.

That night, I stared at my cellphone, wondering if I should message him or not. I didn’t want to seem clingy. That was the last thing I wanted him to think. I couldn’t just message him.

I didn’t message him. I figured he would just come by the day after. The weather had been pretty bad anyway. So I shrugged it off.

***

It was Thursday. I found myself lying down on my bed, my back against the soft mattress, Marley beside me. She moved my hair aside and looked at the fading love bite, which Bryce had given me.

It had been nearly two weeks—yes, two weeks since he’d shown up that rainy afternoon and fled into the woods. I had thought the love bite would last a week at most, and had also thought Bryce would come back.

It turned out I was wrong on both things. The bruise was too dark to fade so quickly, and Bryce . . . never came.

“He’s a jerk! I can’t believe you never told me,” Marley muttered coldly as she regarded the bruise with sad eyes.

I sighed, touching the slightly less dark love bite that still refused to leave. I didn’t know what to think. He hadn’t even called, hadn’t even replied to the message I’d sent on the fourth day.

“Oh, I know that face of yours. Forget it. He isn’t as innocent as you want to see him as. In fact, I think he’s one of those college boys always making bets with each other about wooing girls around the neighborhood!” Marley placed my hair back against the love bite.

I stiffened. She was making sense.

Why else would some hot hunk pop out of the woods and into my backyard?

As realization struck, I shot up and, slumping forward, closed my eyes. I refused to cry.

He never liked me. I was just a simple conquest—an idiotic, simple conquest. Oh God, I was just an idiotic, simple, desperate conquest!

Letting out a small sob, I buried my face into my hands. I had made a fool of myself! Bryce must have been thinking me a desperate virgin and laughing over it with his friends!

“Shhh. Remember, Thi, the best revenge is to be indifferent towards the pain. Smile. It will kill him. His existence doesn’t matter. Everyone makes mistakes. Hey, I mean, I kissed Mr. Phelps once!” Marley mumbled softly, her arms now around me, holding me to her.

Wait, what? I shot my head towards her, my eyes wide, in shock.

“You what?” I shrieked, my voice a bit raspy.

Marley giggled. “I’m kidding! Though, I wouldn’t mind.”

A small smile introducing itself to my lips, I shook my head.

Maybe she was right.

“One day I will be over it. One day I will look back at it and laugh.” I wiped away the stay tears, Marley’s arms still around me.

“You should paint him, though, to remind yourself of the man who gave you your first heartbreak. And when you’re finally over him, you should burn the painting to ashes!”

I looked at Marley, surprised, because her idea seemed brilliant. Maybe I missed seeing his face, or the intention of reminding myself how those brilliant blue eyes had seeped into my soul and nearly crushed it.

I smiled, and Marley looked at me, confused.

“What’s up with you?” she asked, slightly alarmed.

My smile widened. “I’m going to do it!”

Marley could only look at me in surprise while I could only smile at my lightened mood.

Maybe Marley was right after all.

I’ll smile. Maybe it will kill him when he sees me happy.

“I’m proud of you.” She beamed once her initial shock at the sudden change in my mood faded. She pulled me in for a hug, and I hugged her back.

A knock then sounded from the bedroom door before it flung open and Dad strode in.

“Hey, sweetie, do you and Marley want some pizza?” he asked. His expression turned troubled as he looked at me.

“Are you okay?” he added softly, walking towards me, then pulled me in for a hug.

As much as I felt like breaking down and crying, I couldn’t, so I clenched my eyes as I hugged my dad back. “I’m fine, Dad. Marley and I were just watching Letters to Juliet.” I kept my head buried in his chest, and a smile slipped onto my lips as Dad chuckled, seeming relieved.

“Oh, good. Wouldn’t want to hurt some lad now, would we?”

I giggled. “We wouldn’t!” I then moved out of his embrace and smiled at him.

He smiled back at me comfortingly before turning around and walking out of the room. I was still smiling as I watched him close the door.

If only Dad knew the real reason for these tears.

“Let’s get this sleepover started!” Marley squealed, jumping on my bed, while I giggled at seeing her hair flying around everywhere.

“Let’s get this sleepover started!” I echoed, getting up on the bed and starting to jump with her.

I already felt better, as if a load had been taken off my chest. My mind felt lighter than it had in days. Maybe it was the knowledge that I’d actually told someone about Bryce. Maybe it was the experience of sharing the humiliation I felt every time I thought of being played, or maybe it was just the feeling of being hugged and told it was alright—maybe I needed that.

Well, whatever it was, I was glad I’d shared it with Marley even though I hadn’t gone up to her and straight up told her that there was a guy who had come by my backyard twice, whom I liked because he was beautiful and seemed nice.

No, she had seen the love bite while I was sitting on the window-side bench. I’d almost cried when she’d started going on about how I had a boyfriend and how I hadn’t told her, as if everything were great. It wasn’t.

I’d told her the truth, and I was glad I had.

“Wanna watch Letters to Juliet for real now?” Marley asked, fiddling around on my laptop.

I nodded before placing a pillow beside her and lying on my tummy.

“Get ready to cry your heart out, Ley,” I declared excitedly as the movie on Netflix started loading.

Sure enough, halfway through the movie, both Marley and I were crying rivers.

***

The sounds of the wind rattling trees floated through the air as I lay in bed, wide awake. The whole household was probably asleep—well, all except me. I turned to Marley, who was sound asleep, before shifting my gaze back to the ceiling.

We would have our class trip tomorrow to Dovelore Castle, but I just couldn’t sleep. What Marley had said earlier in the night popped up in my mind again.

“You should paint him, though . . .”

“You should paint him, though . . .”

“You should paint him, though . . .”

I sighed as I glanced out the window, at the lit castle. And I finally made my choice. I was going to paint him.

***

“Not again. Damn it,” I muttered darkly as I flung the canvas away. Thankfully, though, it landed on the pile of other canvases perfectly.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, I placed the paintbrush back on the pallet. I just could not get the shades of his eyes correctly! They were either too bright or too dull, or too light or too dark.

Damn it. Why was it so hard to replicate perfection?

I glanced at Marley, who was still sound asleep. I smiled. At least one of us wasn’t having a crisis here.

Stealing a glimpse of my wristwatch, I grimaced. It was nearly 1, but I couldn’t stop now. I picked up a new canvas, picked up a new brush, and dipped it into the blues.

I am going to paint Bryce, tonight.