The Alpha Behind The Mask-Chapter 116: keep The Act
Oliver’s POV
I expected her to flinch, to pull away in fear. Instead, she let out a sob and rushed forward, throwing her arms around my waist. She buried her face in my leather jacket, clinging to me as if I were the only solid thing left in the world.
I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. Her scent—and fear—hit me all at once, making my wolf howl with a desperate need to protect her. My hands hovered over her back, aching to hold her, but I forced my fingers to stay curled into fists at my sides.
"I’m sorry," she choked out against my chest. "I didn’t know who else to call. Oliver... Oliver wasn’t answering. Please, don’t leave me here."
Hearing her say my name—my real name—while she clung to my shadow made my head spin. She had no idea that the man whom she couldn’t reach was the same man she was holding onto right now.
I let out a short breath, finally letting one hand rest tentatively on her shoulder. I didn’t hug her back, but I didn’t push her away either.
"Get on the bike," I commanded, my voice still rough but losing its edge. "Now, Aurora. Before I change my mind."
She didn’t hesitate. She wiped her eyes and scrambled onto the back of the Ducati, her small hands gripping my waist tight. I could feel her shaking against my back, and it took every ounce of my self-control not to turn around and kiss her.
I kicked the kickstand up and roared out of the alley, leaving Caspian bleeding in the dirt. I didn’t head for the penthouse. I couldn’t go back there as Raymond. I headed straight to her apartment.
As we sped through the night, I felt her squeeze my waist tighter, hiding her face against my shoulder. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow. I was winning her heart as Oliver, but I was saving her life as Raymond. I just hoped that when the truth finally came out, I wouldn’t lose her to both of them.
The tires of the Ducati screeched as I pulled up in front of her apartment building. I kept the engine idling, the vibration a low growl between my thighs. I needed her off the bike and inside. Every second I spent as Raymond was a second I wasn’t Oliver—the man she was supposed to be waiting for.
"Get down," I barked, my voice harsh behind the mask.
I felt her head shake against my back. Her grip on my waist only tightened.
"What the hell, Aurora? Get off."
"Can you... can you come in?" she whispered, her voice still thick with tears.
"No," I snapped, the lie coming out easily even as my heart ached. "I was in the middle of something before your message came in. I’m busy. Now move."
She finally let go and slid off the seat, her legs looking shaky as her heels hit the pavement. I gripped the handlebars, ready to kick the bike into gear and vanish into the night. I needed to get back to the packhouse, scrub this black dye out of my hair, and call her as Oliver. I needed to play the worried lover, to ask her why she wasn’t at the penthouse.
But as I reached for the throttle, she grabbed my wrist. Her fingers brushed right over the scorpion tattoo, her touch like fire against my skin.
"So you didn’t travel to France," she said, her eyes searching the emerald lenses of my mask.
"Clearly," I growled, trying to pull away. "Plans changed. Now fucking let me go."
"Raymond, wait—"
She held on tighter, her desperation fueling her strength. My wolf was pacing in my head, caught between the urge to growl at her for the touch and the urge to nuzzle her palm. The conflict made me reckless. I didn’t want her to see the cracks in my armor.
I forcefully shoved her hand away, intending only to break her grip. But in her weakened, shaken state, she lost her balance. Her heels caught on the uneven pavement, and she went down hard.
"Shit! Aurora!"
The mask of the cold Dom slipped for a second. I killed the engine and was off the bike before she even stopped moving.
"Are you okay?" I knelt beside her, my hands hovering over her.
She winced, clutching her arm. A red scrape ran down her skin, blood beginning to well up where she had hit the concrete.
"I’m fine," she breathed, though her face was pale. "It’s nothing. You can go."
I looked at the wound, then at her trembling frame. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave her bleeding on the sidewalk while I went off to play dress-up. The King’s duty and the assassin’s coldness both died in the face of her pain.
I didn’t say another word. I reached down and scooped her up bridal style. She let out a small gasp, her good arm instinctively hooking around my neck.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Shut up," I muttered, my voice a low rumble. "I’m not leaving until that arm is treated."
I marched toward the entrance of her building, my heavy boots thudding against the floor. I felt like a hypocrite, carrying the woman I loved into her home while wearing the face of the man she probably hates.
I kicked the front door of her apartment open, not caring about being gentle. My heart was still hammering against my ribs, a mix of adrenaline from the fight and the pure, sharp panic of seeing her hit the ground.
"I’m fine, Raymond. Really," she whispered, her voice trembling as she clutched my neck.
"Shut up, Aurora," I rasped, keeping my voice deep and rough.
I hated being harsh with her, especially after the way I’d held her as Oliver just this morning, but I had to maintain the distance. If I softened now, the mask would slip. I carried her straight to the small sofa in her room and set her down like she was made of glass, despite my rough words.
I didn’t ask where the first aid kit was. I already knew. I strode to the bathroom, grabbed the supplies, and walked back, kneeling between her legs. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦
"Give me your arm," I commanded.
She hesitated, her eyes wide and searching mine behind the green lenses. "You’re... you’re staying? I thought you were busy."
"Just give me the fucking arm, Aurora," I spat, my throat tight. I grabbed her arm a little more firmly than necessary to hide the fact that my hands wanted to tremble.
As I cleaned the scrape with antiseptic, she hissed in pain, her fingers digging into the fabric of the sofa.
"Softly," she breathed, her eyes welling up again. "Please."
I froze. That one word—please—nearly broke me. I wanted to pull her into my lap and kiss the pain away. I wanted to tell her that Caspian Vane was as good as dead. Instead, I focused on the wound, my thumb brushing against her skin just beside the scrape.
"You’re a mess, Little Bird," I muttered, my voice dropping low. "Running off to clubs the moment the King turns his back? Is that how you play?"
She looked away, a flush of shame creeping up her neck. "I just... I needed to breathe. I didn’t know things would turn out this way."
Oh yeah! I have a lot to say... I should be shouting at her by now if I were Oliver, but I held back my words and taped the bandage down.
I stood up, needing to put distance between us before I did something stupid. I needed to get out of here, get to the packhouse, and call her as Oliver. If I stayed a minute longer, I was going to pull her against me and ruin everything.
"You’re patched up," I said, turning toward the door. "Lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone. Not even your ’King’ until he proves who he is."
I was halfway to the door when her voice stopped me.
