Mated to the Death-Row Alpha

Ares

Something told me this man would take no for an answer; he wouldn’t let me off the hook, and to make matters worse, Darius was involved in this.

“And now remember, on no account would the suspect know your link with Darius, or that you are a… yourself, as it would be very dangerous for even you,” he warned me, and I clenched my fist, knowing what he was talking about.

I just became a spy.

“Take her to him,” he said as he gestured for one of his men to lead me away. I stood up from the table, but his words stopped me.

“The file contains everything you must get from him; that’s all you have to do, talk…” he said to me, and I nodded as I shyly took the file into my hands while the guards escorted me out of the office.

After walking for what felt like thirty minutes, we stopped at the door. I observed it was different from the last room I was in, and I went in.

"There he was seated, there was no window to shade me from him, he sat on the chair, his black uniform which did nothing to hide how handsome he was, his hands behind his back, his hands were chained to the chair behind.

The chains were so heavy and large that it seemed like an anchor to a ship.

His head down, as he refused to pay any attention to me, as I sat down.

There were two men in the room, as their eyes looked distant, but I knew they were more than ready for anything.

"You came back," he murmured. His voice seemed to be laced with surprise .

I set her files neatly on the table, ignoring the twist in my stomach.

"This is an official psychological evaluation, Mr. Rossi. My being here isn’t optional." I spat a little hastily at him, still upset about the situation.

He tilted his head, studying me with dark, dangerous eyes. "And yet," he said, his accent dragging over the words, "it feels like you want to be here." he added and I forced a smile.

"Forgive me…but I think that isn’t..." I started but he cut me off.

"You look beautiful in red, just like I thought you would," he stated and I froze, while the smile on his face widened.

"State your name for the record," I asked according to the procedures, as I brought out my notebook, pulling out my pen.

"You already know it," he commented and I clenched my fist, for a guy said to be cold toward others he seems to be a jerk.

"Please, I’ll ask you to…" I started but he cut me off.

"You know my name, everyone on the planet does, telling you means nothing, when you do know it, but I wonder aren’t you the one meant to make the introduction?" he asked me and I clenched the pen in my hands.

Remembering the warden's words not to tell him more information about myself, could lead to disaster.

"That information isn’t relevant," I answered quickly.

"No," he agreed. "But you are."

I straightened. "I’m here to assess your mental state prior to…"

"Execution," he completed for me, calmly. Unlike various death row inmates, he didn’t seem troubled by his impending death. In other instances, we were always instructed never to mention the prisoner’s current situation.

I swallowed. "Yes."

"Say it again."

"I don’t need to."

He leaned back, the chains shifting softly. "You do. Because every time you avoid it, your pulse quickens. Right here." He tapped two fingers against his own wrist.

"You came in pretending this is clinical. But your body knows what this place is."

I cleared my throat. "You’re trying to assert control."

"I already have it."

My jaw tightened. "You’re incarcerated. You have no control."

He smiled wider this time. "Then why are your hands shaking?"

I looked down.

They were.

I understood it would be normal for him, the dominance each alpha possesses, wanting to dominate every situation, every room, and everything they do, just like I could feel it now. Even I couldn’t resist his dominance, though I knew I would have to fight against it.

I closed my fist, hiding it under the table. Breathing in as if to control myself, I hated that he could see through me.

"Let’s begin with your childhood," I asked, keeping my eyes on the notebook, afraid of what his silver eyes would do to me.

"Ah." His gaze sharpened. "You want the monster's origin story."

"This is standard procedure," I hissed.

"No." He leaned forward, his voice lowering. "This is you trying to put me somewhere safe. A box you can label. But I don’t like being labeled, princess," he teased.

"I don’t label people," I groaned, unable to hide the frustration in my tone.

"You do," he said gently. "You label them so you don’t have to feel them. Isn’t that part of your job? I’m known as the monster, the psychopath, but I’m curious what you would label me as…"

My breath stuttered.

"You do take pleasure in being on the other end of the table, don’t you?" I asked, trying to maintain my professionalism.

“What did they promise you to come here , princess, an innocent sheep like you thrown to the wolves , seems like a meal to me”he spat and I froze, staring up at him with rage.

Damn, he knew

And this could be bad; now that Darius was involved, I knew I better get this done, but he was so difficult. He hadn’t even answered even one of my questions.

“I’m the one asking questions here,” I snapped, unable to hold back my frustration as I hissed at him.

Then he said softly, “Why did you choose death row?”

My mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

“Please, I advise we stick to procedure,” I answered.

“I’m anything but a law-abiding citizen.” He watched me struggle with the words as if it fascinated him.

“I...I wanted to help,” I said too fast, telling him the truth of the situation even though I knew there was a high chance I would sound ridiculous.

“Why?” he asked.

“Provide clarity. Closure. I wanted to know what went through your head when you killed all these people,” I spoke, and he didn’t even flinch; he stared at me like an interesting subject.

“For them?” he asked. “Or for you?” he inquired, and I froze, knowing who he was talking about. I placed a fake smile on my lips.

I exhaled sharply. “You’re deflecting. I’ll have you know I’m just doing my job,” I answered.

“No,” he corrected. “I know what you are...” he said.

My stomach tightened at that moment.

His eyes didn’t leave my face.

“You waste your time coming down here; it’s an futile mission, one you shouldn’t be involved in. You’re being thrust into this, human, and I know that. Ken doesn’t just get curious and come to ask as if you’re a monster,” he said, the words casually and calmly.

He leaned closer.

And I couldn’t take it anymore, the intense gaze, the way he got under my skin. I was the one meant to read him, but he read me in murmurs, like he knew me.

I pushed my chair back slightly. The metal scraped too loudly.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this right here,” I said, and I stood to my feet, packing up my books.

"I see, I saved you off, little sheep," he mocked, and I looked at him.

"You don’t scare me..." I replied, gazing into his eyes. I was lost in them for a moment, but I snapped back, gathering my books, my hands trembling. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I lost in his eyes? Why couldn’t I think clearly?

Just as I was about to leave, his voice interrupted me.

"I look forward to our second session. I know you will return, not because you have to, but because you want to," he added, and I froze. Just as my hands reached for the door, I knocked on it, and it was pulled open by the earthen from before.

"Princess..." he called out, and I turned to glare at him.

"Call me Ares," he added as I walked out.

But his name kept echoing in my mind; Ares, that was his name.