Reject My Alpha President (Iris and Arthur) novel Chapter 8

Iris

The kiss is warm, familiar, and entirely consuming.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, I nearly fall into the abyss of it all–the way his lips mold so perfectly to mine, the press of his

hands against my waist in the spots where they once fit like puzzle pieces, the rough thrust of his tongue onto my mouth.

He knows my body better than anyone else. Better than me, even, He can play me like a fiddle, plucking the strings in all the right

places to get the perfect melody out of me.

Arthur’s hands skim across my sides, finding all the spots that used to set me on fire. He knows what he’s doing, and he’s doing it

damn well.

And for this split second, I let it happen. The memories of what we once shared threaten to drown me. We are fated mates, after

all, bound by something primal and unyielding. Once upon a time, we were lovers who dreamed of forever, who whispered of a

future filled with love.

But that was before. Before his betrayal. Before the walls I’ve since built around my heart hardened into steel.

Before now.

Suddenly, reality pierces through the haze of heat and longing. Just beyond the alley, I can hear the chatter of people walking by. My colleagues are probably packing up by now after a long day at the gallery.

The juxtaposition of what we once had and what we are now hits me with devastating clarity.

We’re fated mates, and yet here we are, hidden in an alley like criminals, engaging in something sordid and forbidden.

This isn’t love. This isn’t redemption. This is desperation, anger, and lust tangled together.

Before it can go further, I press my hands into his chest and shove him back. It doesn’t do much, because he’s a werewolf and I’m not and therefore he’s far stronger physically than I could ever be, but he pulls back just enough to meet my gaze.

“Stop,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Behave yourself, Arthur.”

His green eyes glint with something dark and frustrated. “Behave myself?” he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. “You can’t deny it, Iris. I can smell your arousal. Stop lying to yourself.”

My stomach twists at his words. Of course, he would use that against me. Of course, he would reduce everything that I feel, everything that he did to me five years ago, to nothing more than a reaction of our bodies.

Maybe he knew that when he kissed me. He thinks he can manipulate me now, use the fated mate bond to his advantage, but it won’t work. I’m different now than I was before.

“You’re insufferable,” I spit out, giving his chest another shove. This time, he takes a single staggering step backwards, giving

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me just enough space to wriggle away and put more distance between us.

But Arthur closes the distance once more in two long strides. His towering frame looms over me, his shadow casting long across the bricks. His lip curls, revealing gleaming white fangs, the same fangs that used to make me shiver whenever they grazed my

skin.

But I don’t cower or shiver or give in to his tactics. Because, like I said, I’m different now. And I know what he is now: a

manipulative, lying prick.

I hold my chin high.

“Come back to

your price.”

“he says, although his tone isn’t genuine. He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out his wallet. “Name

I stare at him in incredulity as he rifles through his wallet for a rather sizable stack of cash. We were well off before, as Arthur is from a wealthy family, but handing out cash like candy? Arthur was never so arrogant.

“I don’t need your money,” I blurt out, the words like venom.

His words, so simple and yet so loaded, send another jab of pain through my chest. So this is what he thinks of me, still, after all

I want to slap him, but I don’t. Instead, I lift my chin a little higher and say, “Regardless of what you seem to think, Arthur, I’m living a perfectly happy life. I have a beautiful family, and a thriving art career. I’m content without your money.”

twist the knife just a little bit deeper.

That seems to strike a nerve. Something low and dangerous rumbles in Arthur’s throat, and he slams his palm into the wall above my head. His chest heaves, nostrils flare, eyes begin to glow that unnatural werewolf green that I once only saw whenever I made

But it’s no matter. He’s gone now, and I hope I won’t see him again.

Back in the car, Emily and Evan are buckled into their car seats, swinging their legs. I try to maintain an illusion of calm as I climb into the passenger seat, although Brian notices my expression immediately.

“Everything okay?” Brian asks quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to alert the children.