The Alpha King's Mistress Chapter 20: Meeting Him Again

I stepped outside the restroom, clad only in a white towel, and my skin flushed as I vigorously cleaned my body. I knew I had to take this chance because I had no idea when I would be able to bathe again. My mate's mind was unpredictable, and I never knew when he would throw me back into that dreadful dungeon.

Layla stood before me, extending the clothes she was carrying. "Here are your clothes for now. I hope they fit you."

"Thank you," I replied, taking the clothing and retreating into the restroom to get dressed.

I put on the long-sleeved lavender dress that turned out to be the perfect length, reaching below my knees. As I turned to face the mirror, I inhaled deeply.

The bags under my eyes were prominent, and my pale lips remained moist from the shower. My dark blonde hair was still damp, and my hazel eyes appeared empty, devoid of warmth, only reflecting weariness. I raised my hand and touched my eyes, the same eyes as my mother's. I bit my lower lip to suppress the tears, my hands clenched tightly.

Out of all the things I can get, why did I have to inherit her eyes? It was the reason my father would hit me if I ever forgot to wear contact lenses. He wanted me to hide the true color of my eyes because they reminded him of my mother.

‘Your eyes are ugly. Don't let me see them ever again,’ my father's words echoed in my mind. As I had said to the young girl, Sara, the sorrow never truly leaves us; we just become adept at hiding and ignoring it.

I splashed water on my face again, shaking my head to clear my thoughts. I mustered a grin in the mirror, reminding myself that back then and now, I only had myself to rely on. I couldn't let my guard down.

Noticing my disheveled hair, I scanned the bathroom for a comb and quickly brushed my locks. Opening the restroom door, I found Layla waiting at the foot of the bed, holding white sandals.

"Wow, you're gorgeous. My uncle did get lucky with you!" Layla squealed, extending the sandals to me.

I simply smiled and took the sandals, placing them on the floor before sliding my feet into them. I was surprised to find that they fit me perfectly.

"Florence," Layla called my name.

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry if the Alpha hurt you. The truth is, it was the first time he punished his mistress in just a day here in the pack."

"I'm fine," I assured her instinctively, even though I was far from it. I wasn't accustomed to being pitied.

"I can't give you any advice on how to avoid that, but always follow him. Do not contradict his words. I promise you, his orders are not meant to hurt you—"

"Not for me, Layla. His words mostly hurt me," I mumbled, just as a knock sounded on the door.

We both turned our attention to the door.

"It looks like Gayle is already here," Layla uncomfortably remarked, walking towards the door to open it.

I closed my eyes, taking a slow breath. There was no easy way out without confronting Nicholas. No matter how much I preferred being locked inside a prison cell to seeing my mate, my chances of escaping were lower if I remained imprisoned.

Now, I felt an even greater urgency to escape, not just to get away from Nicholas, but also to avoid facing my dark past. I couldn't face it. I need to kill Keith first. If all my nightmares came crashing down on me at once, I didn't know what would happen.

Gayle pulled the door open wider. "Come on, it's time."

Before moving towards the door, I quickly glanced at Layla and smiled.

"Thank you, Layla."

The woman nodded in response. I turned around and stepped outside the room, with Gayle leading the way. Though my limbs still felt frail, the food and water had helped me feel better than before.

The entire place was shrouded in darkness. I caught sight of some paintings that I couldn't make out clearly, but my attention soon focused on the long hallway ahead of us.

"Where will I be meeting the Alpha King?" I asked, the bitter taste of his title lingering on my lips.

"Ah, that would be in the Throne Hall. I am instructed to bring you there," Gayle replied.

My heart began to race as we walked on the polished floor, and my palms grew cold. Gayle gave me a puzzled look, sensing my unease. She asked curiously, "Why are you so nervous?"

"I don't want to see him," I blurted out honestly.

"It's normal to feel that way. The Alpha can be very intimidating. But as a mistress, you should learn to be comfortable around him because your duty is to appease the Alpha's needs."

"It's not that easy," I muttered, the weight of his words still fresh in my mind.

Gayle sighed. "This might sound strange, but while you're here, you should remember that you're just a doll for Alpha Nicholas, easily replaceable. Endure it for a while until the contract period ends."

I pressed my lips together, contemplating Gayle's words. She was right. I was merely a doll, disposable to him at any moment. He held all the power, towering above me. A sharp ache pierced my heart as if the bond itself was condemning me. I fought back the tears welling up in my already hollow eyes.

"For six months," I whispered, my tone cold.

"Wait, you'll only be staying here for six months?" Gayle chuckled. "Then you shouldn't worry too much. Six months will pass quickly."

I didn't respond. It wasn't that easy for me. That six months would surely break me beyond repair, and I couldn't allow that to happen. I needed to protect myself.

Lost in my distress, I failed to notice that we had stopped in front of a double wooden door. Gayle was about to speak and knock, but a voice from inside beat her to it.

I felt a jolt run through my skin as a very familiar voice said, "Come in."

"Good luck," Gayle whispered, pushing the door open and holding it for me.

Forcing myself to move, I took a deep breath and stepped inside. As soon as I entered, the door closed behind me, and my gaze locked with my mates. He was seated on an opulent gold throne, exuding power and authority. The throne was adorned with intricate, multi-layered designs, a testament to his status.

He wore a simple white t-shirt and black pants, the short sleeves clinging to his impressive biceps adorned with dark tattoos. Despite his basic attire, his commanding presence as he leaned on his throne was undeniable.

At that moment, reality crashed down on me, heavy and suffocating.

The man before me was the King of all werewolves. A Pure-Blooded Lycan. The Alpha King.

King Nicholas Gavner Acworth.

My mate.