Chapter 93

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.”

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.

“They marked your face,” he says quietly. “They were trying to—”

“I know what they were trying to do,” I interrupt. “Make you not want me anymore. Make me too ugly or damaged for you to keep as your mate.” I laugh bitterly. “Like your attraction to me is solely based on my looks.”

Arthur’s hands still on my face. “Nothing they could have done would change how I feel about you, Iris.”

My heart skips at the intensity in his eyes. For a moment, we just stare at each other, and I wonder if he’s going to kiss me. Part of me wants him to—wants to forget everything that just happened in the warmth of his embrace.

A knock at the door interrupts us. Arthur’s eyes flash with annoyance as he calls out, “What is it?”

Ezra pokes his head in. “Just checking if you need anything, Alpha.”

I straighten up suddenly. “Actually, I do.” Both men look at me in surprise. “I need a new dress. Fetch the stylist.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shoot up. “No, Iris, I’m taking you home. After what just happened—”

“Absolutely not,” I say firmly, tugging his jacket more closely around my body. “I’m not going home. I’m going back to the gala.”

“What?” Arthur looks genuinely shocked. “Iris, you were just attacked. Those photos—”

“Those photos will be all over the internet by morning no matter what we do. And if I leave now, then those women and all the others who would have done the same thing in their place would only win.”

Arthur stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “You want to go back to the party? After everything that just happened?”

“Yes.” I lift my chin defiantly. “I wanted you to expose our matehood to the public. I can handle the consequences of that choice.” I turn to Ezra. “I need a dress. I don’t care if you have to pull the stylist out of bed. Tell her to get me something.”

Ezra glances at Arthur, who’s still looking at me with a mixture of disbelief and—is that pride?

“Do it,” Arthur tells him.

Ezra nods and disappears, closing the door behind him.

“You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met,” Arthur says, shaking his head. But there’s a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“You knew that when you mated me,” I retort.

He steps closer, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture is so tender that I feel my body begin to relax, the faint tremor that’s been coursing through me finally slowing and then stopping entirely.

The way he’s looking at me makes my heart race. He leans in again, and this time, I think he is actually going to kiss me. I want him to kiss me. I want the comfort of his lips on mine.

But before our lips can meet, the door opens again, and Ezra returns, carrying a garment bag and a shoebox.

“That was fast,” I breathe.

“Your stylist needs a raise,” he announces, laying the garments out on a table. “Your stylist was already waiting in her car out back just in case of any wardrobe malfunctions. Had a whole other outfit prepared for you.”

Arthur snorts. “Precisely why I hired her. Thank you, Ezra.”

Ezra nods and exits again, leaving Arthur and me alone once more. The almost-kiss lingers between us, but my mind is elsewhere now. I unzip the garment bag, revealing a sleek black dress. Simple but elegant—perfect for making a dignified return to the gala.

“You can wait outside while I change,” I say, but Arthur doesn’t move. I glance at him. “Arthur?”

His eyes are fixed on a bare sliver of shoulder that’s peeking out from beneath his jacket, which is still wrapped around me. Arthur has seen me naked countless times before, but it’s been so long since the last time that the very thought makes my cheeks redden.

He clears his throat, and his voice is rough as he says, “You’re hurt. Let me help you.”

My throat bobs. “I’m fine, really. It’s just a couple of scratches—”

“I’m not leaving your side for another second tonight, Iris.” The tone in his voice brooks no argument, and before I can respond, he’s moving forward, closing the distance between us.

I don’t argue or pull away as his hands gently remove the jacket from my body.