The Mad Alpha's Substitute Bride

(ALICE)

Love is a strange thing.

Does spending one night together with the man I care for so deeply mean I’m in love with him?

Sitting on the bench enjoying the cool breeze, I let my thoughts wander. I like Darian. I trust him.

I trusted him enough to give him my body. I may not have had a plethora of wolf shifters vying to bed me, but I have had plenty of human men who were interested. I simply never wanted to be so vulnerable with anybody.

But when Darian kissed me, when he held me to him, I wanted him to be the first. In my dimly lit room, I wanted to know what it felt like to be with someone who cared about me.

He kept me up till dawn. I expected him to be there when I woke up this afternoon, or at least, I hoped he would be there, but he was long gone. The idea of looking Mary in the eyes had haunted me till I discovered that she had gone off with some girls on a picnic. She had left behind a note for me, explaining her absence. To my surprise, even Jimmy was no longer guarding the door when I peeked out.

Darian did tell me that the garden the east wing overlooks is a safe area to be in, so that’s how I find myself here. I can’t stay in that suite all day long. I didn’t bother to dress up, putting on a simple blouse and a pair of jeans.

My red hair is tied in a braid that is resting on my shoulder. My stomach rumbles, and I ignore it.

Is this how it’s going to be, with Darian giving his attention to other women in the daytime and then coming to my bed at night? For how long? What if, once we are mated, his father forces other women on him? What then?

I want to tell Darian to stand up to his father and defend me, but my voice dies in my throat at the mere thought. He’s already doing so much for me, someone who is not worth even this much effort. How can I ask him to do more? Sighing heavily, I tilt my head back and stare at the blue sky.

"Is someone like me even allowed to be happy?" I whisper to the breeze, the loneliness in my question making my heart ache. What does Darian even see in me aside from our fated mate bond?

Every time I ask myself that question, I can’t come up with an answer. There’s nothing special about me. In fact, I would say that I’m lacking in almost every way. Willow wasn’t wrong on that account. There is nothing I can offer the royal family that would make me stand out as a candidate for queen. If Willow weren’t one brain cell away from being a sociopath, she would make an excellent queen. She’s got the breeding and the education. Her father gave her every opportunity he could think of.

To ask Darian to do more than what he is already doing for me doesn’t seem right, considering all this. I should be grateful that somebody cares about me the way he does. It’s still a foreign feeling to have someone look out for me this much or talk to me with such affection. There are times it simply doesn’t seem real.

Lost in thought, I don’t notice the cracking of a twig until a gasping sound follows it. I look over, alarmed. I can’t see anything because there are hedges everywhere to give the people walking in the garden some privacy. "Hello? Is somebody there?" I call out cautiously.

There’s an extreme coughing fit, and I jump to my feet, looking for the source of the sound. I soon find it.

It’s an elderly man, wearing a white shirt and dark-colored pants. He’s on the ground, spitting up blood.

"Let me get help!" I cry out, horrified. But he shakes his head, trying to whack his own back at the same time. "Let me do that." I gently thump his back, and he coughs out more blood, but after a few seconds, the tremors in his body cease. "Let me get you some water. Stay here," I instruct him, trying to remain calm. The sight of the blood is terrifying. "Please don’t die while I’m gone."

I rush over to the bench where I placed the bottle of water I’d brought along with me. It’s still unopened, and I quickly remove the cap before tilting it against the man’s lips.

"Don’t worry about spilling. It’s fine," I reassure him.

He takes a few sips, and when he coughs, the blood from his mouth is almost pinkish this time around.

"Thank you, dear." His voice is hoarse, and he takes my offered hand, struggling to get to his feet.

"There’s a bench right over here," I tell him. "You should sit. I’ll go get some help."

"No need," he murmurs, still sounding weak. "Just stay here with me. I’ll be fine." He walks with great difficulty, and once he’s sitting on the bench, he lets out a sigh of relief. "My knees don’t move the way they used to."

"It’s okay," I reply, smiling at him. "As we age, our bodies go through a lot of wear and tear. I suppose I’ll be in this same position one day."

He pats my hand tiredly. "I hope not, child. I used to be so strong in my youth. And now, look at me. I can’t even walk around without a cane. I never foresaw this."

The man seems familiar, but I can’t place him. "Are you a gardener here?" He glances at me from the corner of his eye, looking genuinely shocked.

"What?"

"I saw the shears next to you, so I assumed. You seem familiar, though. Do you work in the east wing? I’m sorry. I’m terrible with faces," I explain.

He lets out a quick laugh. "Familiar, you say? Yes, I must seem that way. You seem mighty familiar to me, as well."

I don’t know why he looks so amused, but at least he’s not coughing up blood anymore.

"Should I get you something else to drink? There’s some cold juice in my room. It might make you feel better." I’m already halfway off the bench when he shakes his head.

"No. Your company is enough. But I thought all the young ladies were out on the picnic today."

I recall the event on the itinerary. "They are."

"Why aren’t you with them?"

I shrug. "I don’t fit in. And I don’t mind staying here."

"Don’t fit in, eh?" He settles his hand on mine and gazes at the garden, his expression weary. "So, you’re hiding out here?"

I nod. "My fated mate is already having a hard time. I don’t want to add to it."

"Is he?" The old gardener looks at me. "Why is that?"

I give him a small smile, kicking my feet. "Let’s just say I’m not the most suitable of mates for him. But he seems to like me. I’m grateful for that much, at least."

I don’t know why I’m telling him so much. Maybe my heart is so heavy that some of the hurt is spilling out.

The old man is quiet for a few moments, and then he says, "You should be more confident in yourself."

I want to laugh at his words. "That’s easier said than done. I’ve never been allowed to practice that. Imagine being told your whole life that you deserve to die for merely breathing. Then tell me I should be confident." My outburst has made me start shaking, and I rub my hands over my face to try to stop. My body feels cold. "Sorry. I guess you caught me at a bad time. I should go. I’ll send someone to help you. I’m so sorry."

When I move to stand up, he grasps my wrist and stops me. "Sit. It’s alright."

Reluctantly, I sit back down beside him. "I’m afraid I’m not very good company right now. I’m dealing with some things."

"We all are, child," the man replies quietly. "But you get one life. You shouldn’t spend it hiding from yourself just because the world wants to be cruel to you. You are only as weak as you believe. Consider it the advice of an old man who has seen far too many years on this Earth. Do not let anybody dictate your self-worth. You are the only judge of that."

I give him a small smile. "Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind."

After a brief period of silence, he asks, "You said your fated mate was having a hard time. Who is he?"

I consider the man for a moment. Does he really not know? It could be that he doesn’t. After all, Darian and I haven’t spent any time together in public, and no one in the palace knows that his fated mate is residing here in the east wing.

I don’t want to give away his identity, though. "He’s from a good family, and it seems they don’t approve of me. I can understand that, but I can’t help him. I don’t want him to be at odds with his family because of me, but I also care about him."

"Why doesn’t his family like you?"

I look away. "I’m not good enough for him."

The man makes a tutting sound. "There it is. You are questioning your worth again. If your fated mate is standing up against his family for you, that means he sees something in you that nobody else does, perhaps not even you."

"Maybe," I whisper. "I sure wish I knew what it is, though."

The man squeezes my hand. "I’m sure you’ll find out in time. Why don’t you come with me to the entrance of the garden? I should be getting back."

I help him to his feet and walk with him, keeping my pace slow. "I hope you don’t mind me troubling you with my problems. I don’t normally. That is to say—"

"I understand, dear. Sometimes things get to be too much to bear all alone. I don’t mind lending you my ear. I quite enjoyed your company. If I’d had a daughter, I would have liked to comfort her in this manner."

We reach the garden gate, which leads to a path that goes all the way to the next building. I suddenly remember the shears I saw where he had fallen.

"Wait. Let me go get you your shears."

He gives me a half smile. "Those must belong to the gardener. It was lovely meeting you. I made the right decision to come here."

I blink, confused. "They aren’t yours?"

"Oh, my dear." His smile brightens. "I’m not the gardener."

He walks away slowly, and I stare after him. If he’s not the gardener, who is he?

I retreat toward the bench, feeling confused, and suddenly come to a standstill.

Hold on.

No.

My head whips around, and I rush back to the gate. I look down the path, but he is gone.

Surely not.

Was that the king?

I never got a good look at him during either of the events I attended. I was too busy looking at Darian.

What would the king be doing here, though? Maybe I’m wrong. Darian told me how much his father opposes our mating. There’s no way he would sit and chat with me. I have to be wrong. I know I’m wrong.

The king would never come here. He has no reason to.