The Mad Alpha's Substitute Bride-Chapter 50: Come Home To Me

(CORRINE)

Anger is a difficult emotion to let go of. And it’s usually linked with pride.

I never knew that I had any pride or that I was allowed to till I came here, till I learned that I was fighting for more than just my life.

And it’s my pride that throbs when Sigrid tells me the truth, when Locke tells me what really happened. I can’t make sense of it. These aren’t emotions I can take apart and assess. I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t want to stop being angry.

All these years, my anger has been the only thing I’ve held on to. Knowing now that I’ve been angry over nothing, that I spent the last eight years being upset over nothing, makes me feel all sorts of ways.

"You don’t disobey your mother. That’s disrespectful, and I won’t allow it."

"If you want to go somewhere, you ask for permission from your mother. And if you upset her, I’ll knock some sense into you."

I was already awake when Finn decided to sneak out. I didn’t expect Locke to catch him, though. I couldn’t see Locke outside in the park anymore, so I thought that perhaps he had returned to his hotel room. But my window was cracked, and I could hear their conversation.

I’m still surprised Locke didn’t reveal who he is to Finn. And I was even more surprised to hear him discipline my son—no, our son—about respecting me. Finn is a sweet boy. He’s a little rebellious, and sometimes I need to have a firm hand when it comes to him, but he’s a good kid. He likes testing boundaries, though.

Locke’s words are still ringing in my ears. They didn’t sound like they came from a man who hated me. Having the truth cemented for me is not easy, but I saw how my son reacted to his father. He listened. Have I really deprived my son of his father? And if I continue to do so, will it be detrimental to his future?

Having a conversation with Locke and trying to remain calm throughout it all is not easy, but I know that for Finn’s sake, I need to go through with it.

As I prepared the tea, I tried to come up with the right questions, but I couldn’t stop my own feelings from leaking through.

"I’ll bring you Ravenna’s head." I wasn’t anticipating that.

"I’m tired, Corrine. I’m tired of losing people, of losing my family. I can’t lose you again. So, whatever you need, I’ll give it to you."

Of all the things I expected of this conversation, seeing this proud man lower his head before me was not one of them. He has changed. And greatly so. Sitting here next to him, I can see it now. He looks worn-out. The ferocity of his gaze has dimmed. He has the expression of a man who has been through hell. Or a terrible loss.

My anger fades and is replaced by a bone-deep ache.

"I don’t need Ravenna’s head." I can feel the tears slide down my cheeks. "Or Bella’s. But I don’t want to go back to the North, Locke. I don’t want to give up my freedom and my job. I worked hard for this life. All of this, everything that I’ve done here, this is me. If you ask me to give it up and go back, you’re asking me to give up my identity. This is the first time in my life that I’ve been happy."

"Corrine..."

My lips tremble as I once again face losing everything. "I know it’s selfish, and I know I have to consider Finn’s future, but no matter what you do, the Northern Kingdom will never accept him. The North and the East have archaic values. They will not accept children they consider illegitimate."

"My son is not—"

"He’s not a pureblood." I meet Locke’s gaze evenly. "Look me in the eye and tell me they will accept him, and I will believe you."

He’s silent.

"That’s what I thought."

I withdraw my hands from the table, but he reaches out and grasps one, preventing me from pulling it away.

"If they won’t accept him, they will die," Locke says darkly. "I will wipe out their entire bloodline if I have to, Corrine. I will not let my son be insulted. He is my heir, and he will be my only heir. Finn will be the king of the Northern Kingdom one day. And if anyone has a problem with that, I’ll kill them and hang their bodies from the castle gate." He studies me for a moment, and I see despair in his eyes. "I know you have feelings for Erik. I know I’m not as cultured and refined as him. I’m a brute. I’m aware of it. But Corrine, I can make you happy. I’ll give you anything you want. You can travel back and forth between the human world and the North if you want. I won’t stop you. If you want to keep your job, you can. If you—"

I lean forward and cover his mouth with my free hand, unable to listen to any more. "Stop. Please." I can’t bear to hear him beg me like this. I don’t want to be the one to break this prideful man.

He takes both my hands and kisses them. "Just come home. I’ll fix it all."

Why is he doing this? Why is he lowering his pride for me so much?

The man I knew would never—

I didn’t realize I was speaking out loud till Locke touched the edge of my hair. "The man you knew was a fool. I didn’t understand what I had till I lost it. When I thought you had died, it felt like I forgot how to breathe. I didn’t know I could feel that way. I just want you to come home, Corrine. I’ll give you the whole world. And whoever opposes you, I’ll give you their heads. I’m not Erik, but—"

"I don’t love Erik," I say suddenly. "I know I implied it. I said I wanted to mate him, but I don’t." I shake my head, still trying to understand. "Why am I so important to you? We hardly spent any time together. I couldn’t have made that big of an impact on you, Locke. You didn’t even give me the mating mark. If you had marked Ravenna, anything there had been between us would have been history."

Locke is quiet as he mulls over my question. "This has nothing to do with our fated mate bond."

"Then, what?"

He doesn’t meet my gaze, just playing with the edges of my hair as if fascinated by them. "The way you smile? The way your face lights up when you get excited? The way you speak, carefully measured yet cautious? I like the way your eyes grow fierce when you’re angry, the way you forget decorum and just say whatever you’re thinking."

My heart is beating too loudly. Can he hear the thudding sound?

"I like the way you concentrate when you’re reading a book and your nose scrunches."

There’s honest, and then there’s Locke. My face feels hot as I cry out, "Okay, I get it! You can stop now."

He blinks. "But I’m not done."

My lips move as I struggle to speak. "You’re not?"

"You asked what impact you’ve had on me. I want to tell you everything."

"You don’t have to." I’m sure my face is a bright red color. "I get the picture."

"So, I should stop?" "Yes. Please."

Was he always this sincere? I can’t remember.

Or maybe I do. There were small, sometimes clumsy gestures that I tried to ignore because they made my heart feel funny. He was always looking out for me. If I liked books, he’d have a dozen sent to the small office I was given. They’d be random tomes, on war strategy, the Veil, and ancient texts. Some I found interesting, some I had no idea what to do with.

If I liked something particular to eat, I’d suddenly be having it served at every meal. He knew I liked to walk in the gardens, and he had all the benches fixed and a swing installed. I spent most of my time in the greenhouse, and he gave instructions to the gardeners to provide every seed they could find. Most of them were dull, harsh plants, and I didn’t use them, but his gesture was sweet.

At the time, I was wary of everything he did. But now, when I think back, I see that he was trying to make me feel more comfortable. His bark was worse than his bite. And while he was a harsh man, if I focus on his actions and not his words, my experience can be painted over in broad strokes as not entirely unpleasant. He cared, and he tried to show it even if he couldn’t say it.

I swallow.

I was a political prisoner back then. He wasn’t exactly subtle about it. But nobody goes that far for someone who’s merely a prisoner in their eyes. Locke’s harsh behavior in the beginning can be justified, perhaps. But then, he began trying to make me comfortable. At some point, the castle stopped being a prison and started becoming a home to me. Would I have felt that way if he had not gone out of his way to perform all those small gestures?

Perhaps time makes it easier to study our past with a more forgiving gaze.

I don’t know what to do. There’s a strange, uncomfortable sensation in my chest. My wolf is happy, though. For it, the solution is simple. But human emotions are more complicated. They have layers of nuance to them.

"Corrine."

He keeps using my name, and it keeps making me want to focus on him, to look at him, to listen to him. I like the sound of my name on his lips. He’s right. He’s nothing like Erik. Erik’s got nothing on this huge, hulking man who touches me so gently and speaks my name with such sincerity.

I don’t know what love is. These feelings are raw and overwhelming, and I don’t want to face them right now.

I know I’m being a coward, but I need time to sort out my own tangled- up emotions.

"I—" I let out a shaky breath, looking away from Locke. "You can take Finn out on runs after dinner. And—" Why is this so hard? It’s like I’m facing a meandering river, and the risk of drowning is keeping me from dipping my foot in. My heart is pounding. I want to look everywhere but at him. Because if I look at Locke, I know I might make a decision that I will regret. I need time to think.

"And?" Locke is persistent if nothing else. "And I’ll stay here while you go."

He makes a displeased huff but doesn’t argue. I see him pick up the cup of tea before him and sniff it. "What is this?"

"Raspberry and lemon tea."

He takes a sip before looking horrified. "It tastes like piss!" I gape at him. "No, it doesn’t! It’s one of my favorites."

"So, you like the flavor of piss?"

I snatch the cup away from him, hissing, "What is wrong with you? Just leave it if you don’t like it."

He plucks the cup back out of my hand, puts it to his mouth, and drains it in one go. Slamming it down, he grimaces. "You’ve developed some strange tastes since coming here."

"You didn’t have to drink it if you hated it so much!"

Now it’s Locke’s turn to look insulted. "Of course I did. You made it for me."

Flustered at his reasoning, I pick up both cups and move to the sink to wash them. I need to do something with my hands to distract myself. Fortunately, he doesn’t follow me.

"This hut is too small."

"It’s not a hut," I say irritably. "It’s my house. And it’s not small; it’s reasonably sized."

He stands up, and my eyes are inadvertently drawn to him. Locke is not a short man by any means, but his head isn’t exactly brushing against the ceiling, either. It’s his frame.

Locke is huge. Years of fighting have built his body to look like a tank. I’ve never admitted it to anyone but myself, but I quite like his bulging muscles. I never knew I had a preference when it came to a man’s physical appearance, but I always enjoyed looking at my mate. I used to watch him from a distance whenever I had the opportunity.

The men in the Eastern Kingdom were built differently from Locke. Their hands were dainty, and they were well-groomed with trim figures. No wonder Ravenna considered Locke and the other Northern wolves to be barbarians. Compared to the Eastern ones, these men are massive in both their human and animal forms.

It’s a similar comparison with respect to the Human Wolf Kingdom. Even Erik. I’ve seen him train, and he has muscles in all the right places, but compared to Locke, he looks almost frail.

"Why are you staring at me?" Locke asks bluntly all of a sudden.

My face grows hot, and I quickly turn my attention back to the dishes in the sink. "I’m not. And there’s nothing wrong with my house. You’re just used to castles and other large spaces."

Locke comes to stand behind me, and my hands are covered in soapy water when I go still. I can see his reflection in the kitchen window. He seems to be fascinated by my short hair for some reason.