I Rejected My Mate, The Prince

Chapter 3

**Clarissa’s POV**

As I push the door open and step into Prince Cone's bedroom, my gaze is immediately drawn to his imposing figure. He stands by the mirror, vigorously drying his raven-black hair with a towel, the muscles and veins in his shirtless torso on full display. His trousers hang low on his hips, revealing the two enticing dimples on his lower back.

I remain rooted by the door, not daring to venture further into the room. It's Prince Cone who advances toward me with an angry stride. He slams the door shut behind me and seizes me by the arms.

His hands slide around my back, fingers deftly working to loosen the strings on my dress, one by one. The dress slips off effortlessly, cascading down my legs and leaving me vulnerable and exposed.

Bitter thoughts flood my mind as the reality sinks in. Prince Cone treats me like a plaything, devoid of feelings. He only acknowledges my existence when he seeks release, then disregards me until the next time he desires my body.

"This is wrong," I manage to utter, my voice trembling. Despite my fear, I muster the courage to voice my feelings. "I don't want to do this. Not like this."

"Meaning what?" His response is laced with anger. He towers over me, his glare cutting through me like a knife. "You think I give a damn about your opinion? Move to the bed. Before you infuriate me."

With a sense of helplessness weighing me down, I obey his command. Tears have welled up in my eyes as I reach the bed, and I climb onto it, lying flat on my front, burying my face in one of the pillows.

However, my submission doesn't meet his satisfaction. He lashes out in irritation, his voice harsh. "What the hell are you doing, lying there like a pile of laundry? Get up and go down on your fours!"

My hesitation incurs his wrath, and he approaches me forcefully, turning me around to face him. My tear-stained face meets his intense gaze, his brows furrowing in anger. "This is exactly why I despise clueless, weak girls like you," he seethes.

He slams his hands on the bed, pinning down my wrists, and lowers his face until his hot, angry breath brushes against me. His eyes flash with danger, causing me to quiver with fear.

"I need to pee," I stammer, my voice urgent. "Please, I need to go."

"Pee?" He regards me with a mixture of frustration and disdain. "You're unbelievable," he snaps, his patience wearing thin. "Stand up and get out of my room. And don't ever come back."

And so, I comply, just as he commands, never returning to that room. His dominance and cruelty leave an indelible mark, a reminder of the oppressive reality I find myself trapped within.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I awaken abruptly, my breath coming in rapid, panicked gasps due to a harrowing nightmare. Instinctively, my hand searches for the space beside me, finding it empty and desolate.

Reality crashes down on me like a wave—this is the life of a lonely wife. My husband, though married in name, harbors no love for me. I exist only as a vessel for his desires, my body nothing more than a receptacle for his filth.

Unable to return to sleep after the haunting nightmare, I slip out of bed and hastily secure the top layer of my sleeping dress, tying the belt securely. With quiet determination, I make my way out of my apartment.

In the dead of night, only the guards remain vigilant. They stand stoically at their posts, nodding their heads in acknowledgment as I pass.

Upon reaching the library, my intent is to lose myself in the comforting pages of a book. However, a surprising sight greets me—an unfamiliar royal guard in his distinctive uniform, engrossed in perusing the books on the forbidden third shelf. His shock is evident as he drops a book at the sight of me, his face draining of color.

"My Lady, I apologize. I didn't mean to touch the Prince's—" He stammers, his panic palpable.

I offer him a reassuring smile to quell his anxiety. "It's all right. Just explore the other books. The rule seems to be 'hands off the third shelf.'"

The guard visibly relaxes. "I appreciate your understanding, My Lady. I'll leave now and return to my post."

Before he can depart, I intervene. "Take a book for yourself. I don't mind, and I won't report you. I understand how isolating and lonely it can be here. Books can be your companions."

A warm smile graces the guard's face, his honey-colored eyes lighting up. "I'm honored to meet you, My Lady. I don't know how to express my gratitude. I'll find a book."

"What's your name?" I inquire.

I observe a subtle stiffening in his posture. He puffs out his chest, attempting to stand taller as he responds, "Call me Royal Guard Matthias Crackers, My Lady."

"Matthias Crackers?" I raise an eyebrow in genuine surprise. "Is that really your name, Mr. Matthias Crackers?"

Matthias stifles a laugh. "Well, my father's name is Crackers, but I'm simply Matthias, My Lady. Please, just call me Matthias."

I offer my hand for a handshake without thinking, intending to make a friendly gesture. However, as the realization of what I've done dawns upon me, and seeing the astonishment on Matthias' face, I hastily retract my hand.

"Oops," I murmur awkwardly, attempting to alleviate the discomfort I've created. "Sorry, it takes some time to adjust. I wasn't a princess before I came here." A sheepish laugh escapes my lips.

Matthias responds with an equally sheepish chuckle, and I begin to make my way to leave. However, an unexpected obstacle trips me up, and I find myself tumbling forward. I'm in midair, about to fall, but strong hands swiftly catch me, preventing me from hitting the floor.

I land atop Matthias, my chin pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around my waist. Both of us freeze in a moment of profound astonishment, wondering how we ended up in this compromising position.

Matthias swiftly releases me, and I push my palms against the floor, attempting to rise. Yet, someone grips my arm from behind and forcefully shoves me. It happens too quickly for me to react, and all I feel is my nose colliding with the unforgiving edge of the bookshelf. Pain surges through me, and I cry out, cradling my throbbing face.

A primal growl fills the air, and I shift my gaze to find Matthias kicking his legs in the air, caught in the clutches of Prince Cone, who has him in a chokehold. The prince's enraged growls reverberate through the library, a menacing presence that shatters the calm of the night.