Chapter <b>470 </b>


    E’s POV


    “Oh, Goddess. What the hell happened to her?“.


    “She looks like a wreck…”


    “Got what wasing to her, if you ask me.”


    “No one deserves that!”


    As I emerged from behind the food truck, all eyes turned to me. The whispers were like hammers hitting the inside of my skull, each one making tears prick at my eyes and my heart ache.


    The red paint had covered me from head to toe. My hair was soaked with it, my sweater and jacket ruined, my jeans sticking to my legs. It had seeped into my shoes and through my socks, the squidgy liquid now squelching with each step I took.


    I could hardly even see. The paint was in my eyes, my nose, my mouth. All I sensed were those gazes on me, those whispers, and finally, Alexander’s shout of surprise.


    “E!” He came rushing over and began using his sleeve to wipe the paint from my face. “What happened? Who did this?!”


    I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I just stood there, rigid, while Alexander whirled around at the crowd that had gathered around us.


    “Who did this?!” he bellowed. “Someone must tell me


    happened!”


    There were some scattered murmurs, a few coughs. No one answered, though. Alexander looked like he was about to burst with fury, half–shifting, ws extending from his fingertips.


    I reached out and touched his arm. “Alexander.”


    “Someone did this!” he shouted. “Someone threw paint-


    “I want to go home.”


    Alexander fell silent, then turned to me. Through the haze of tears and red paint, I saw his face fall. Wordlessly, he gathered me up in one arm and carried me away from the crowd, away from the market, pushing Lucien’s stroller with his free hand. I clung to him the whole way, but I didn’t cry. I refused to let them see it.


    In fact, the tears didn’t fall the entire way home. They didn’t even fall when we entered the house and Lilith came running, gasping and asking what happened. Not a single sob escaped my lips as Alexander carried me up the stairs and into our bedroom.


    I was silent and stiff as a board as he filled the tub and undressed me. I was numb, simply reying those moments in my head on repeat.


    They thought I was an imposter. A liar. A maniptor.


    And they had thrown red paint on me, the color of blood, to show just how much they hated me.


    The tears only began to fall once Alexander gently lowered me into the bath. The warm water seemed to make my nerves soften, and soon, tears were rolling down my cheeks, leaving tracks in the red paint that had now dried and turned ky on my face. They plopped into the water like a drop in the ocean; already, the tub was turning red like a sea of blood and hate.


    “It’s alright,” Alexander’s voice said somewhere through the haze in my mind. I felt a hand <b>on </b><b>my arm</b><b>. </b><b>He </b><b>lifted </b>it and began running a loofah across my limp appendage. “It’s alright. <b>I’ll </be out. It’s <b>just </b><b>paint</b><b>, </b><b>not </b><b>real </b>blood.”


    <b>“</b>I… I know.” I sniffled and wiped my nose with the back of my hand, which only smeared more paint <b>across </b><b>my </b>


    face.


    Alexander’s expression was hard, but his touch was gentle as he gripped my chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned my face to look at him. He began dabbing at my face, gently washing away the paint.


    “Can you tell me exactly what happened?” he whispered. “Do you remember what they looked like? Did they say anything?”


    “I…” My throat bobbed with the effort of holding back a sob. “They said I was stealing the ‘real E’s‘ life. That I was a meddling bitch.”


    Alexander’s hand stilled on my face, jaw clenching, but heposed himself and kept cleaning.


    “They said I needed to be taught a lesson.”


    “They’re the ones who need to be taught a lesson.” Alexander set the sponge aside, then pushed me down into the water. I dunked my face and hair, holding my breath for a moment while his fingers began rubbing my scalp beneath the water.


    For a few moments, as I waited beneath the water, I wished I could stay there. Submerged. Separated from the rest of the cruel world.


    It was always one thing after another, wasn’t it? When would I find peace? When could I just enjoy my life with my family for once?


    Fate always seemed to have other ns in store for me, it seemed. Sometimes, I felt that the curse wasn’t truly broken–that my life was just one big curse that could never be cured.


    Eventually, though, I needed to stop sulking ande up for air. I lifted my head out of the water and leaned back against the tub, gasping for breath and wiping the water out of my eyes. Alexander quietly squirted some shampoo from the bottle into his hand and rubbed his palms together before working it into my scalp.


    “We’ll find the culprits,” he said as he worked. His voice was hardly more than a whisper, but it was hard and dangerous, like he was still holding himself back from shifting and tearing out their throats with his fangs. “This was an attack.”


    “It felt more like a protest,” I muttered.


    “No. It was an act of terrorism against my mate.”


    That word–mate–just made the tears start flowing again. If only we still had our bond, our marks, then we could prove it to everyone. But we didn’t. And maybe we never could get that bond back.


    Noticing my anguish, Alexander sighed and stopped massaging my hair. “Come here,” he whispered. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, not caring if he got paint and water all over his shirt. It was already ruined, anyway.


    I let him pull me against him and buried my face in his chest. The tears flowed freely then, one after the other, mingling with the red stains. I lifted my arms out of the tub, sshing water across the floor, and clung to him.


    He didn’t speak. Didn’t try to stop the tears.


    <b>+25 </b><b>Bonus </b>


    He just held me, gently stroking my wet hair, until the sobs eventually turned to hups, then subsidedpletely.


    By then, the water had gone cold andpletely red. But I was still covered in paint, so Alexander turned on the shower. Once the water heated, he stripped downpletely naked. Then, muscles bunching, he lifted my shivering form out of the bath and carried me into the shower.


    We must have spent an hour beneath the hot spray. Alexander scrubbed me from head to toe until I was finally clean, until every ke of dried red paint was washed from my hair.


    And then, heforted me in the best way he knew how–with lips and tender touches and whispers of love and promises.


    For a little while, the world outside the ss door of that shower fell away. Just for a little while, I could forget about everything except for the press of our bodies against one another and the sweet words he murmured in my


    ear.


    We didn’t emerge from the shower until our skin had gone pruny and we had used up everyst drop of hot water.


    Cede


    <strong>Cede</strong> is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a ir for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cede’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.