The Alpha of Alphas

Chapter Four

"Mate," he says, his voice a silent thunder, a command. As if, he knows who I am, he is just making sure everyone else does either.

I have heard stories about this. How you just know. A blessing. No matter who you are, how you are, what kind you are, a blessing for all. But somehow I led myself to believe I was an exception. I have never been so happy to be proven wrong.

I raise my hand. He can't be real. I breathe in. I have a mate. I breathe out. My palm touches the fabric of his cursed mask and everything falls into place. I sigh, a wave of gratification rendering me breathless for a whole minute. He's real.

"Mine," I gasp, more shocked than joyful.

My mate likes that. The slight crinkles under his eyes show that. His eyes are sharp, sweeping through every inch, every corner of me.

I do the same. Though, there is not much to find. A dark clock, a dark mask and a dark cap. All I can see is his eyes. A part of me screams to rip the cloth off his face and stare at him for eternity. Another shameless part of me tells me to rip everything off him.

I shake my head.

My mate takes another step closer. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, as if memorising my scent. When he opens them the blue is glowing. Not shining or shimmering under the light, but glowing. An unnatural blue.

"Mine," he whispers back, voice deep and mystifyingly daunting, leaning slightly in my touch.

I feel safe. I am at the end of my luck, rogues are here, kalhai take one look at me and I will be gone, rogue hunters find a good enough reason to pay me a check and I am gone. Yet, I feel safe. As if my mate could fight the whole world for me.

      Feeling the strength and solidity oozing off him, I can finally breathe.

Another explosion.

I suddenly realize my ears are still intact, it really was the noise which had died down. My already wide eyes widen even more so when I turn my attention from my mate to the people around. The once panicking people are now bent down, hands pressed to their chests and eyes not moving from the floor. Men, fifteen to twenty, stand in between the crowd and us. Their hands spread like a wall. Nothing makes sense.

Then also for the first time, I note a sort of dark but glimmering shadow my mate emits, like he is the dark and the light itself. Who he chooses to be from the two is entirely over what he thinks of you. Waves of authority ripple the air around him and before I know it my knees beg me to kneel as well.

I look around in utter perplexity, open my mouth and close it just as quickly. White eyes, emotionless and inhumane, stare right at me. The second I meet them, sharp silver teeth greet me with a smile. I take a step back.

Kalhaii. Humans who offer up theirs souls to gain immortality. Rogue alphas take advantage of their desperation and bind them into bargains that can not be completed. Years and years they serve until their death.

I take another hesitant but steady step back. My movement rattles my mate as his gaze narrows. He tilts his head, genuine concern etching into his barely visible brows and then steps closer again.

I flinch away from him, shaking my head.

This time he doesn't follow.

You're better off leaving. I'm better off leaving.

He blinks. Once. Then twice. Then thrice. This time when he opens his eyes all emotion is gone. The unnatural glow brightens. The temperature plummets.

Every where you go you bring death. Aria's words have haunted my mind ever since the funeral. Leave. I have been told this so many times that now I abhor every syllable of the word. Leave. Leave. Leave.

Lights flicker. Sparks crackle in the air, like lightening would strike at a minute's notice. My thoughts must me showing on my face because the glint in my mate's eyes turns to something else. Something dark. Something dangerous. The people bow lower.

"I'm sorry," I breathe and it hardly makes a coherent apology. My voice comes as broken as it was when I screamed for Aria, screamed that her husband wasn't breathing. When I lashed all my grief on Rey, accusing him of things I wish I could take back. When I whispered for my father, my mentor, my alpha, my everything to stop teasing me and wake up. When I spoke two words at his funeral. The same two words I just told my mate.

I was running. I should run. I have to run.

Because if man in front of me is my fated one, then I shall be damned than let him find me for who I am.

       For I am his as much as he is mine. But I am nothing and he looks like so much.

Unfair.

That is what this mate bond is to him.

And so I turn. I turn and I run like the dead are after me—because they are, and the creatures have no decency to not attract the wrong kind of attention.

They are the wrong.