The Alpha's Silent Bride: Seventh Time's The Charm novel Chapter 30

Chapter 30: 030: First Kiss

~ RONAN ~

"So, we both know what this comes down to. Either find another bride or get marked," Nikolai says, with a note of finality. Mom had immediately agreed to that idea too, because according to her, my mate is mute and probably disfigured since I refuse to let her see Roselle.

If only she knew. Roselle is fucking beautiful in a way that’s difficult to describe. Those enchanting hazel eyes have a way of pulling a person in, making them see things they never expected to see.

"No," Kael growls. "We can’t do that to her."

I suppress a sigh. "Nikolai is right. We don’t exactly have many options."

"The hell we don’t." Kael growls. "I swear, you do all your thinking with your feet."

"My feet?"

"Certainly not your brain."

I grit my teeth.

"This situation is bigger than us."

"No, what’s beneath us is agreeing with your mother to go shopping around for a replacement bride like we’re returning a defective product."

"Nikolai isn’t suggesting that."

"He literally just suggested that."

"We don’t have a choice, Kael."

"We fucking do." His growl rattles through my head. "Answer me this: when you marry some new bride, what happens to Roselle?"

I hesitate. "We could keep her in—"

"In a what?" Kael cuts me off. "A room? A tower? A decorative glass box? Say it, Ronan."

"That’s not what I meant."

"Oh? Because it sounded suspiciously like ’keep her around as a mistress.’"

I wince. "Do you have any idea how insulting that is? The girl is your mate, not some side piece."

Here he goes again calling her my mate.

"I’ll make arrangements for a new bride by tomorrow morning," Nikolai says eventually, mercifully putting an end to Kael’s relentless arguing.

"No!" Kael roars. "Tell him no. I don’t need a new bride. I want her."

"Shut the hell up, Kael." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "We both know the only reason you’re acting like this is because she’s still alive."

Nikolai pats my shoulder before taking the next turn down the hallway. I sigh and shake my head as I make my way back to Roselle’s room.

I have questions. Questions I should have asked those fucking rogues, but we were too enraged to let them get more than a few words out. How did they make it past my pack without being caught? And what exactly was their agenda with Roselle?

My suspicions are already running high. This doesn’t feel random, someone wanted Roselle. The question is why, and more importantly, who?

I open the door to her room and find her still sleeping. Kael howls softly in my head.

She’s beautiful... fucking beautiful.

My heart gives a painful squeeze as I try to imagine something going wrong. I try to picture this bed without her in it, but the thought alone makes my chest tighten.

Right beside her sits Dr. Elias, keeping watch from a chair near the bed.

I couldn’t trust anyone else with her care, and as for those guards, they’re yet to be dealt with.

Earlier, I mind-linked Elias and explained the situation to him. He told me that Roselle was fine, that she’d woken up, and that she’d asked for me.

"You’re back?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nod before thanking him for helping me out.

He inclines his head in acknowledgment before pushing himself to his feet.

"I need to get some rest," he says.

I nod. "You’ve earned it."

He lets out a tired chuckle. "Take care of her, Alpha."

"I will."

My entire body aches with a strange, restless need that I don’t understand.

I don’t know what’s happening to me.

I don’t know if I’m awake, dreaming, or trapped somewhere in between.

My eyes flutter open, and the first thing I see is Ronan leaning over me.

His lips move as he says my name. The sound is soft, but it seems to echo through me. Calling me. Drawing me closer.

Before I can think, before I can stop myself, my hands lift and wrap around his neck. Then I pull him toward me, my lips crashing against his.

His response is shock, mine is too, because I still can’t believe I did that. For a brief second, neither of us moves. The world seems to narrow until there’s nothing left except the space between us.

"Roselle..."

My name leaves his lips in a rough whisper.

The sound sends a strange flutter through my chest.

Confusion swirls inside me, mixing with the heat that’s still coursing through my body.

I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t understand why everything feels so overwhelming.

Ronan’s hand comes up slowly, brushing against my cheek as though he’s afraid I might disappear.

His lips claim mine, softly grazing at first, hesitant, like he’s afraid I’ll shatter beneath him. But the fire in my veins doesn’t let me be gentle. I press closer, tilting my head, and the kiss deepens instantly.

His breath catches, a low rumble vibrating from his chest into mine. His arms slide around me, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other grips my waist, pulling me up against him as if he can’t bear even an inch of space between us. His mouth is warm, so warm, and when his tongue traces the seam of my lips, I part for him without thinking.

The kiss turns wet, beautiful in its messiness. Our tongues meet in a slow, slick dance—sloppy and desperate, tasting each other like we’ve been starving for this. He groans softly into my mouth, the sound raw and needy, and I swallow it down, my fingers threading through his hair, tugging just enough to make him shiver. Saliva glistens on our lips as we tilt and press again, deeper, the kiss growing languid and heated, full of soft sighs and the quiet, wet sounds of mouths moving together.

He pulls back for a fraction of a second, just enough to breathe my name like a prayer.

"Roselle" his forehead resting against mine, eyes dark and glowing with something wild. Then he’s kissing me again, slower this time, savoring. His tongue sweeps across mine in long, deliberate strokes, messy and intimate, lips sliding and sucking gently. A string of saliva connects us when he shifts angle, but neither of us cares. It’s beautiful, the soft nips at my lower lip, the way he licks into my mouth like he’s memorizing every taste I give him.

My body arches into his on instinct, the heat inside me flaring brighter with every wet glide of his tongue. His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing my skin tenderly even as the kiss turns filthier, sloppier, our breaths mingling hot and ragged.

Fuck. Is that what kissing feels like? And this shouldn’t be another dream.