Fangs and Fur: The Alpha king's mate

Try me

His eyes seemed to harden slightly as the air between us became thick with tension.

I watch as he leans back in his lawn chair, his eyes locked on me. "Mate, I'm curious about the things they found when you were arrested," he replied, his voice stern. "The weed, cigarettes, alcohol. It is all illegal for humans, and for good reason."

His eyes narrowed as he continued talking "Were you using them, and if so, how much?"

I felt my heartbeat start to race but I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible. I wasn't about to give him the chance to see how much his question affected me. I shrugged, trying to appear indifferent.
"What does it matter?"

"It's illegal here. Especially for humans. It's bad for your kind," he said with a tone that showed obviousness. As though I were an idiot.

Fueling my anger even more. I rolled my eyes. "Yes, because making things illegal always stops people from using them. Newsflash: It doesn't."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "So what if you were using them?"

I turned on my heel to face him. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I was just trying to survive and tolerate that you guys keep us on a tight leash. Ever think of that?"

His expression didn't change, but his eyes seemed to darken. "Why, Adelaide? Why were you using them? What are you trying to escape from? Explain to me."

I clenched my fists tightly, my knuckles white as my anger spilled over. "Why do you care? Did you suddenly decide to play therapist?"

He stepped closer to me slowly; his voice was softer. "Try me. What are you escaping from?" Scoffing at my therapist's statement, his voice did sound concerned.

I stared at the ground, struggling to keep my emotions in check. Memories of my family. My wonderful family. My mother, father, and little brother are now all gone. The anger and bitterness ran rapidly inside me. "Supernaturals," I snapped. "They killed my family. And I'm stuck here with you! The man who burned down my last memory of them! You live free while we're nothing but fucking playthings."

His eyes flashed quickly, but yet his voice was calm. "I didn't hurt your family. The people who did that are the ones you should be angry with, not me. I'm just trying to keep you safe."

I shot him a sarcastic look.
"Oh, right. Because burning down my house was such a noble gesture. Did you think it was a parting gift?"

He sighed, shaking his head as his hand brushed through it. "Your house was a hazard. I didn't handle it well, but I intended to keep you from danger. The real enemy isn't me. It's those who hurt your family. This rebellion is likely to get killed. If not the illegal substances."

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. "Yeah, and how am I supposed to fight them? Huh? With a pat on the back and a 'good luck'?"

His gaze softened slightly, and his lips let out a sigh. "There are other ways to fight back. Using drugs and alcohol isn't going to help you find justice or peace, though."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, and what are those other ways? Enlighten me, mate! Since you seem to have all the answers."

He stepped even closer to me; his expression unreadable. "I don't have all the answers, but I know that numbing the pain won't bring your family back. It's not a solution. Neither is the rebellion.

I shook my head. "Look, I don't need a lecture. You're not the one living with this loss, so don't act like you understand."

His eyes flashed with frustration. "I may be supernatural, but I'm not your enemy. I'm just trying to keep you from self-destructing. The rebellion is one thing, but don't let it consume you or get you hurt or, worse, killed."

I looked at him. "I'll fight however I want. It's the only way I know how to deal with this world."

His expression was a mix of concern and something else I couldn't quite place. "I just wouldn't mention it to anyone. They may end up killing you if they find out you have damaged and inconvenienced a lot of people with this whole spray paint situation.

I gave him a quick look before turning away.
"Maybe I'll think about it don't ever expect me to stop fighting. Not now. Not ever."

"Your rebellion is going to get everyone killed involved if you are not careful."He shot back, making slow steps to me.

I stared at him as I breathed heavily, my heart vigorously pounding in my chest. The truth of his words stung me, but I refused to let him see that. I wasn't going to let him win. "You don't get it," I muttered, turning away again, and hugging myself tightly. "You don't get what it's like! You think you do, but you don't! "You could begin to understand how much people need this. How much everyone has lost!"

He sighed There was a brief moment of heavy weight on us. I could feel it pressing down on us suffocating us for a moment, I thought he might back off.

Until I felt his warm hand on my shoulder, gentle but firm, and his voice soft.
"No," he said. "I don't get what you've been through. I can listen. What I do know is that if you keep going down this path of rebellion and the drugs and alcohol, it will cause you nothing but numbness, and that does not fix anything."

His words hit me harder than I expected, and for a moment, I just stood there, with my back to him desperately trying to keep my emotions contained. I hated that he was right. I hated that he was even saying these things, to begin with.

"I'm not giving up who I am," I whispered, my voice leaving me. "Not for you. Not for anyone."

He was silent for a moment, and then he moved back. "I'm not asking you to give up who you are. But you need to stop hurting yourself along the way and making yourself a target."

I didn't respond, I just stood there looking at the ground, at the small pebbles on the the grass growing between the cracks of the sidewalk.

Strong just like me persistent.