The lost mate

Chapter 106: How to keep a secret

Richard paced into his bedroom, his expression dark and brooding as he listened to the sounds of the party in the distance. The laughter, the music, the mingling of voices—all of it grated on his nerves. He never cared for gatherings like these, and tonight was no different. He hated the pretence, the endless small talk, and the constant need to be "Alpha" in front of everyone.

With a heavy sigh, he ran a hand through his greying hair and glanced around.

"Here," Liana’s soft voice broke through the quiet, and Richard turned to see her approaching. She held out a small glass vial, her expression cool and composed. "Take this before you get too worked up."

Richard grumbled under his breath but obediently took the vial from her hand. He knew what it was—his potion. Liana had been giving it to him for years now—a carefully concocted mixture that kept him alive. It was just another one of the many secrets they shared.

He downed the potion in one swift gulp, wincing at the bitter taste before handing the vial back to her. "I don’t know why we even bother with these things," he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I don’t like parties. Never have."

Liana gave him a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "It’s not about what you like, Richard. It’s about maintaining appearances. You know that."

Richard let out a frustrated sigh, but said nothing. She was right, of course. As Alpha King, he didn’t have the luxury of shirking his responsibilities, no matter how much he hated them.

Liana studied him for a moment; her head tilted slightly. There was a strange glint in her eyes, one that made Richard uneasy. She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a soft, almost casual tone. "Tell me something, Richard."

He grunted, glancing at her warily. "What now?"

"Do you miss her?"

Richard froze, his blood running cold as the words hit him. He turned sharply to face Liana, his brows furrowing in confusion. "Who?" he asked, though deep down, he already knew the answer.

Liana’s gaze didn’t waver. "Your mate. Jennifer."

For a moment, Richard couldn’t breathe. His throat tightened, and his heart pounded in his chest. He hadn’t heard that name in years, hadn’t allowed himself to even think about her. The memory of Jennifer, his first mate, was buried deep—too deep. He had made sure of it.

"Why are you asking me this?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Liana raised an eyebrow, her expression unnervingly calm. "Did you love her?"

Richard’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his anger simmering just below the surface. "What’s the point in talking about it now?" he snapped, his voice harsh. "She’s dead, Liana. Has been for years. You know that."

Liana didn’t flinch at his anger. She simply continued to stare at him, her gaze unwavering. "I know she’s dead. But I also know that you never forget your first mate. No matter how many years pass. No matter how much you try to bury it."

Richard clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face twitching as he fought to keep his emotions in check. He hated this—hated being reminded of something he had tried so hard to forget.

"You’re being paranoid," he said through gritted teeth, his eyes flashing with barely controlled rage. "Jennifer’s gone. End of story."

But Liana wasn’t finished. She took a step closer, her voice soft but insistent. "Heather... she reminded me of Jennifer."

Richard’s breath hitched, and for a brief moment, a flicker of something passed across his face—something that looked almost like fear. But he quickly buried it, shaking his head. "You’re imagining things," he said harshly. "Heather is nothing like Jennifer."

"Isn’t she?" Liana’s voice was almost a whisper now, her eyes boring into his. "Same eyes. Same quiet strength. I couldn’t help but notice."

Richard’s anger flared, and he turned away from her, his fists clenched tightly. "Stop it, Liana. Just stop," he snarled. "Jennifer’s dead. She’s been dead for over two decades. I’ve moved on. We’ve moved on."

Liana remained silent for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she watched him. Then, with a sigh, she stepped back, her expression softening. "Maybe you’re right," she said quietly. "Maybe I am being paranoid."

Richard let out a shaky breath, relieved that the conversation was finally over. He could feel his pulse pounding in his temples, the weight of his past pressing down on him like a heavy stone. He hated talking about Jennifer. It brought back too many memories—memories he would rather leave buried.

"Let’s just focus on the present," Richard said gruffly, trying to push the conversation aside.

"We should have killed her family as well." Liana mutterd.

**************************************************

Anne lay on her side, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn’t control. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the wind outside and the even breaths of Damien lying next to her. The party had ended hours ago, and yet, the unease that had settled in her chest refused to fade.

She hadn’t told Damien yet. How could she?

Damien shifted besides her, his strong arm draping over her waist as he pulled her closer in his sleep. His warmth and his presence should have comforted her, but tonight, it only made her feel more alone with the secret she harboured.

She took a deep breath, her voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the room. "Damien?"

He stirred, his eyes fluttering open as he looked down at her, sleepy but alert in an instant, his hand gently stroking her back. "Hmm?"

"I... I just wanted to say," she began, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to find the right words, "that I’ll never betray you."

Damien blinked, his expression softening as he cupped her cheek with one hand, his thumb brushing over her skin in a slow, comforting motion. "What brought that on?" he asked gently, his voice still thick with sleep but laced with concern.

Anne forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I don’t know," she whispered, leaning into his touch. "I just needed you to know that. I love you, Damien. I would never do anything to hurt you."

His gaze softened further, and he pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I know that, Anne."

"I love you," she whispered again, burying her face in his chest as if she could hide from the guilt gnawing at her insides.