Chapter Two

Rayne

“Come on," the woman says while closing her hand around my wrist.

I try to ask her what she meant by that but she doesn't seem to be listening to me. With a sharp tug, she pulls me into the room.

The door is closed behind me. I look back at it, confused. She pushes me onto a chair and says to the man with the gold eyeliner, "Pass me those brushes, will you?"

I scowl. What is she talking about? Why do I have to be seated here? Why does the Alpha have to see me walking down the aisle? I try to remember if the woman who gave me the garment bag gave me any other instruction. She didn't.

A brief glance around shows me that there are four people in the room in total. The woman I just talked to, the man with the gold eyeliner, another woman who is plumper and shorter than the woman who handled me, and a tall, slim man who's wearing all black. His hair is in his eyes, and his green eyes are almost piercing through me. He has lines on his cheeks, but he isn't an old man. He's just too thin. His gaze makes me uncomfortable. I ask myself for the twelfth time what they want from me.

I haven't understood anything yet.

The woman is still complaining about how late everything is. I stay put. Everyone seems to be busy with something and it's almost funny watching them move like they're being chased around the room by some prehistoric predator. It would be funnier if the Beta weren't waiting for me downstairs.

Waiting to punish me.

Before I know it, the tallest woman is tugging at my hair. I cower but she doesn't seem to notice. She's rubbing something onto my scalp—oil—and she's massaging it at the same time. I want to ask her what she's doing and why, but I'm terrified. I don't want to anger them. Maybe this was all part of the plan. Maybe the woman didn't give me all the information she had to.

But why me? And what are they doing this? She told the Beta I wouldn't be long.

"Roscoe, I said give me that brush!"

She starts brushing through my hair and asks me how on earth I got so many knots in my hair. I don't answer her. I'm watching her every move in the mirror before my eyes. She seems genuinely perplexed. The workers aren't given brushes or combs. Most of the women shave their heads because it's easier, especially the ones who work in the kitchen. I never wanted to cut my hair, so I did everything I could to take care of it.

Until today, I was proud of it.

The woman doesn't seem impressed. Anyway, I'm too busy being shocked to care about her remarks about my hair. It's not like she's rude about it, anyway. I've never had anyone comb my hair before. My mother used to, and after she died, Denise helped me as much as she could, but that was years ago. I've been taking care of my own hair since I was nine or ten. I've never had anyone touch my hair this way before.

And now she's...styling it. Braiding it or something. I can't see what she's doing. But it looks glossier than ever, and the smell of roses is delightful.

She pins the braids she made in place, and then she orders me to turn around in the chair. It swivels. I've never sat on a chair like this before. She uses cotton wads to clean my face. I look around at the others and see that they're all busy with something. The garment bag is opened. There's a dress inside. It's long and white, so white that it's almost luminous. And the veil is right next to it. The man is smoothing all the wrinkles out of it.

And then there's the other man. The dark one. He's still watching me with the expression that makes me feel uneasy, and he's drumming his fingers lightly against the table behind him.

I look away from him quickly. The woman is painting my eyes and my lips. It doesn't take long. The plump woman reminds her that we only have five minutes left.

"I'll be damned," she says as she applies powder to my cheeks.

What's going on? They say they're in a hurry because of the ceremony but I can't understand why they're complaining to me about it. Everything is so confusing, and I'm still scared of upsetting these people. It seems I already have and I don't know why.

This is what it's like being a slave. Fear lives within us all, and we don't ask questions or voice our opinions. We were taught to do the complete opposite. Anyone who asks too many questions is punished, and nobody wants to be punished.

"Alright, stand please."

I do as I'm told. The question is on the tip of my tongue. I'm about to ask her why I'm here and why I'm being prepped. Why she mentioned the Alpha. I part my lips to speak but I'm stopped by the dark man. I look at him. He's nearing me with a small porcelain cup in his hand. His voice is deep and not at all what I was expecting from him. "You'll find that everything you wish to say will come out a lot easier if you drink this."

I stare at the cup for a few seconds before taking it from his hand. It never crossed my mind to refuse the drink. I'm a worker. I do as I'm told, even when I don't want to do it. I tip my head and drain the contents of the glass. It's slightly warm, and the taste is pungent. It makes me gag.

"Good girl," he says before backing away from me slowly.

The tall woman looks back and forth between the two of us with slightly wide eyes. "Right," she says, dragging the word. "Now, for what really matters."

I watch her walk toward the man with the dress. She asks him if it's ready, and he affirms that it is. My confusion has only grown, and this time, I'm openly scowling. What are they doing? I don't think I'll ever stop wondering, not unless they tell me why I'm here and being pampered like some kind of princess when I'm just a slave.

"What..." I stop. The word is too loud in my ears, and it sounds like I just screamed the word in an empty tunnel. It echoes in my head. I frown and try to take a step back. My feet aren't steady. Suddenly, the room is spinning and I close my eyes or I'll puke.

Someone nears me and says, "It's time to take off your dress."

My dress? Why am I supposed to take it off? I open my eyes and see two of the women. It's the same woman, but there's somehow two of them. I look back and forth between the two. They're wearing the same expression on their faces. They look puzzled.

Since when was there two of them?"

"Alaska, please take off your dress."

I blink back at her in confusion.

Alaska?

Why did she call me that? That isn't my name.

I try to tell her this but my tongue is suddenly heavy. I wonder if it's the same thing that happened when I was belittled by the Beta downstairs. No, it can't be. This is different. This is the kind of heaviness that can't be explained. There's a heavy brick in my mouth. I can't speak and the room hasn't stopped spinning.

I look at my hands. They're somewhat blurry. I try to flex my fingers and say, "I can't feel my hands."

My voice is strange again. Almost distorted. I'm not even sure if she has heard me. It doesn't look like she did.

"Angela, help me."

They start taking my dress off. I think to myself that this is absolutely ridiculous. This is wrong. They can't take my clothes off like that. But I don't say a word. I can't seem to.

The silence in the room becomes deafening. I don't have full control of my mind and body right now for some reason, but I can see how their faces have changed. Even the man with the gold eyeliner is looking at me with the kind of expression that could make me cry on the spot from across the room.

My back is crisscrossed with scars from the punishments I received when I was younger and more clumsy. I never thought I'd let anyone see them. I guess I was wrong.

I feel one of the women touch my back. "How is this..."

"No questions asked," the dark man says. "You're here to get her ready. You're not here to ask questions."

They start shuffling around me. I look at the dark man. My vision isn't double anymore, but it's not exactly what it used to be. He's looking at me with a small smile on his lips. I can't understand what's going on. Why are these people undressing me? Why doesn't he want them to ask questions?

Why did they call me Alaska? Did I imagine that?

I want to ask. I do. But my tongue is sleeping in my mouth and I suddenly feel very tired, but also filled with energy. I can almost swear that if I jump, I'll float above the ground. I see the man with the gold eyeliner approaching me. He has the dress in his hand. The mating dress. I frown as I look at all of them.

"Two more minutes and they might just have our heads," the dark man says in a warning voice. It sounds like he's laughing but his face is expressionless.

How is that possible?

They're putting the dress on me. There has been some kind of mistake. A dreadful mistake. I'm not supposed to be here.

"Please..." I say. The more I try to speak, the dizzier I get. "Stop."

"Sorry," the tall woman says as she buttons the dress behind me. "I didn't think your scars would—"

She cuts herself off. It's probably because of the dark man who keeps glaring at her. She says nothing. Her fingers work quickly. The dress is on me.

My inability to speak up is frustrating me. I have to tell them that they must have made a grave mistake. I'm not called Alaska. I don’t understand what’s happening here. I think of all the ways I'll be punished for this. I'm an idiot. I should have told them this a long time ago. I wish to tell them now, but my tongue is even heavier than before. I want to sleep. The only thing keeping me on my feet is...I don't know. My body and my mind are behaving differently. I'm mentally exhausted, but physically I feel fine.

"I'm not Alaska," I say. In my head, I said that out loud. But I'm shocked that these people aren't reacting to the things I'm saying to them. It's like they don't want to hear me.

"Put the veil on now," the dark man says. I only know it's him because I recognize his deep voice. "There's no more time."

The veil is heavy. It's even heavier than the dress. Or maybe it isn't heavy at all. Maybe I'm so tired that it's making them feel heavy. I can't see much through the veil. I see their faces but not much else. The embroidery on the veil won't let me. I feel claustrophobic. I'm breathing heavily. My face is suddenly very warm. I can't breathe or think in this thing.

There's a knock on the door. I think yes, finally. Someone will come in here and tell these people that they've made a mistake. Something is wrong here, terribly so. I didn't want to get into trouble by speaking up but it seems I've made things much worse for myself.

A dark shape moves toward the door. The dark man. He opens the door a crack so I can't see who's on the other side. The person says something which makes the dark man say, "No, we haven't seen anyone with that description here. Look somewhere else."

He then closes the door and walks toward me. I shrink away but he grabs my arm roughly. I feel someone fluffing out the train of my dress. I look to my right and see a dark silhouette. It's the dark man. It has to be.

He barks, "Open the door."

The door is opened. We're walking out. I can feel sweat trickling down my back. I feel it beading on my upper lip. I look at the dark man. He isn't looking at me, I can tell.

We start toward the door. He says, "Careful with the steps."

My legs are shaky but I don't trip as we descend the staircase. I'm trying to sort through the mess in my head so I can say something to him but I'm paralyzed with fear. As we get to the second floor, I say, "There...there has been a mistake."

I can't believe it took me so long to say this.

At first, I think he didn't hear me because he doesn't reply. And then, he says, "There has been no mistake." His tone is icy and it freezes the blood in my veins.

My heart is hammering against my chest and I feel very tired. I want to give up and fall to the floor but I know that won't do me any favors. I don't understand what's going on, and I'm afraid to question him.

Where is he taking me? Why am I wearing these clothes? This dress?

There's some commotion to my left. I look and see the Second Beta surrounded by a group of soldiers. I know it's him because of the color of his uniform, which is green and gold. I can see the outline of people and colors, but not much else. He sounds angry. He's giving orders furiously under his breath.

I turn my head away so quickly that pain radiates down my right shoulder. I had almost forgotten all about him. I have a bad feeling about this. He's looking for me. I should have been down a long time ago. This is it. I'm dead. I will be killed for my crimes. I glance at the dark man. I can't see him clearly and it's making me feel more nervous. "Please," I say again.

He doesn't answer me. His grip on my arm tightens and that's the only acknowledgment I have that he even heard me. His warning is swimming in the depths of my mind. I don't want to be punished. If the Second Beta gets to me now, I'll probably be killed. He sounded furious. I'll just have to go with the flow.

I'm a slave. Following orders is all I was taught to do.

We're crossing the parlor and we're headed toward the front door. We're leaving? I've never felt this confused. My mouth is dry suddenly, and I feel like fainting again. I don't. When we reach outside, I see a huge crowd of people through the veil. There are many people, so many that I think the veil has tricked me, or maybe my foggy brain has.

What is happening?

"Remember this," he says in my ear as we descend the stairs. We're approaching the crowd. Why is that? Everyone will see me in this dress I don't belong in and then I'll truly be dead when they find out it's a misunderstanding. "Don't say a word. Nobody expects you to speak, got it? Let the monk say everything he needs to say."

I don't answer him. There's an incessant ringing in my ear that's making me feel sick to my stomach. I hear murmurs of conversation and voices blending into each other but I don't know if this is really happening or whether it's my imagination. We're walking too fast. I want to tell the man that I'll fall, but I don't.

All conversation ceases. Or maybe my ears have stopped functioning.

"Keep walking until you reach the end," he says in my ear. He squeezes my upper arm and says, "He'll take your hand when you get there."

I barely hear him. The ringing doesn't want to stop and it's starting to hurt my ears. I'm spinning and spinning. I can't seem to move. Someone pushes me lightly from behind and I walk. I keep walking because if I stop, I'll faint. I'm still wondering why I'm here and what the hell is even happening. I look from left to right. I see a multitude of people. I feel even dizzier but I keep going. At this point, I'm afraid to stop walking.

My feet hit something. It stops me from walking. I feel a hand on my arm. It's warm and reassures me for a fraction of a second. It guides me.

"Lift your feet," a man says gently in my ear. I do as I'm told. I climb onto something slightly tall—a platform?—and stand still. The warm hand is still on my arm, and then he takes my gloved hand in his.

I look to my right and see only white. When I look further up, I see a face. Black, shoulder-length shaggy hair. It looks shaggy. Or maybe it's unusually thick. I see very dark brows on a pale face. They're like arrows pointing toward the space between his eyes.

Who is this? What's this supposed to mean?

I hear a soft voice before us. He or she speaks so softly that I barely hear what they say. I feel nauseous now. I can't be sick. I know this but I can't explain why. I have to keep it all in. I don't know for how long. I just have to trust my instincts.

I don't want something bad to happen to me. And anyway, I'm glad to be out of the Second Beta's sight. I can deal with him and the punishment later. It doesn't seem so important anymore, not to my foggy mind.

I'm numb to it all now. That's the only word I can use to describe the way I feel.

"You look beautiful," the same voice says in my ear. His voice echoes in my mind. I color. Nobody has ever told me I looked beautiful before. I feel uncomfortable now in his presence, even though I don't mean to be. Who is he? I've somehow forgotten how I even got here. I close my eyes and try to concentrate but the truth slips from my mind like it's been soaped.

This thought makes me giggle.

This makes the voice stop for a beat, then he continues. I try to hear what he's saying but it's almost impossible. Why does he speak that way? Maybe there's something wrong with me.

We stand that way for a long time. I'm feeling sleepier with every passing minute. Around me, it's getting somewhat darker. There was a lot of light and now there is none. I close my eyes. I'm going to fall. I will.

The voice in my ear says, "I love you."

This wakes me up. I look up at the man. His hair looks even darker than before. He turns his body to face me. He's pulling the sleeve of the dress up my arm. I look down at it. What's he doing? What's happening? I see something glittering through the veil. He brings it close to my wrist. I wince at the pain, but I don't cry out. He then does the same with his. He puts it above mine.

Inside of me, something changes, and I can't explain what it is.

I feel a rush of emotion, or maybe it's something else. It's strong enough to make my knees wobble, but the man catches me. He holds my waist tightly, his wrist still above mine. I feel a pull to him, like there are invisible threads sewing me to him. I feel hot and then very cold, and I understand why the warmth has suddenly left me.

My vision is clearer. I finally see the man's face. His eyes are dark and framed with thick lashes. His nose is straight. His lips are pink and pursed. Slowly curling. I'm blown away by his beauty. He releases me and I fall backward. All around me, I hear gasps. Or maybe they're screams.

I can't take my eyes off his face.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asks. He looks around at the crowd. He looks back down at me. Blood rushes to my head because of the fall, and all the emotions coursing through me are making my head spin faster than ever.

I finally give up and close my eyes.

This time, for good.