Chapter 167
Iris
The three women freeze. The tall one releases my hair so quickly I nearly stumble from the loss of her grip.
“Alpha President,” she starts, her voice suddenly sickly sweet, “we were just-”
“Silence,” Arthur growls, and the cold sound of command in his voice is so powerful that I feel it vibrate through my bones.
In an instant, security guards flood the bathroom and converge on the women.
“Take them,” Arthur commands, not even looking at the guards. His eyes are fixed on me, a mixture of fury and concern darkening them to a blood–red.
The three women protest as they’re dragged away. I try to hold the tatters of my dress together, but it’s hopeless. The beautiful emerald silk hangs in strips, exposing far more skin than it covers.
And then I notice something worse. Behind Arthur, beyond the broken door, I can see flashes. Camera flashes.
“Arthur,” I choke out, “the photographers-”
He turns his head, following my gaze. His expression darkens further when he spots the paparazzi who have gathered in the hallway, cameras aimed directly at me. The story of the Alpha President’s human mate being assaulted in the bathroom was too juicy to pass up, apparently.
Without hesitation, Arthur shrugs out of his tuxedo jacket and wraps it around me. It engulfs me completely, the fabric still warm from his body. He then sweeps me into his arms, cradling me against his chest as he carries me past the photographers.
“Make sure they delete those photos,” I hear him growl to the security team as we pass. “All of them. Now.”
The hallway blurs as Arthur carries me swiftly away from the scene. I press my face against his shoulder, mortified by what just happened. My public debut as Arthur’s mate, and I end up half–naked and humiliated in the bathroom. It couldn’t have gone
worse.
Arthur takes me to what appears to be a private office, shutting the door firmly behind us. He sets me down gently on a leather sofa and drops to his knees in front of me.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, his eyes roaming my body. “Did they–”
“Just scratches,” I manage. “They didn’t get very far.”
Arthur’s jaw clenches as he examines the shallow cuts on my arm and the faint scratch on my cheek. His fingers ghost over them, barely touching my skin.
“I’m going to kill them,” he says, so quietly I almost don’t hear it.
“You can’t kill them,” I say with a weak laugh. “Think of the political fallout.”
+20 Bonus
He doesn’t smile at my attempt at humor. His eyes are still that dangerous shade of red, and I know that if I didn’t need tending to right now, he’d shift and tear the place to shreds. “They attacked my mate. I should end their sorry existence.”
“Arthur.” I place my palm against his cheek, bringing his focus back to me. “I’m okay. Really.”
He leans into my touch for a moment, the fires in his eyes dimming somewhat, then pulls away to retrieve a first aid kit from a
cabinet.
Arthur opens the kit and takes out antiseptic wipes. “This will sting,” he warns before gently cleaning the cuts on my arm.
I wince slightly at the burn, but stay still, watching Arthur’s face as he tends to my injuries. His brow is furrowed, his movements. delicate despite the rage I can feel radiating from him. He’s beautiful like this–protective, caring, fierce in his devotion.
It makes me regret all of the things I said and did when I was angry with him.
“I’m sorry,” he says after a moment. “This is exactly what I was afraid would happen. This is why I kept you hidden for so long.”
I think about his words as he carefully applies ointment to the scratches. Is this going to be my life now? Constant scrutiny, judgment, even physical attacks–just for being his human mate? Can I really handle that?
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say finally. “Or mine. Those women made a choice to be cruel. That’s on them.”
Arthur looks up at me, surprise flicking across his features. “You’re not blaming me for exposing you to this?”
I shrug. “Would it change anything if I did? I knew what I was getting into. Well, maybe not exactly this, but I knew it wouldn’t be
easy.”
He finishes bandaging my arm and moves to examine the scratch on my cheek. It’s shallow, barely breaking the skin, but his
expression darkens as he cleans it.
