I Married The Villain Alpha

Annalise's POV

Vincent's face was tight with worry, his stormy eyes locking onto mine as though nothing else in the world mattered.

With my eyes widened in disbelief at his sudden appearance—or rather, the audacity of his palpable concern—Vincent rushed to my side. His towering frame cleared the path with ease, as if the entire world existed to part for him.

"Are you alright?" His voice cracked slightly, softer than I'd expected, but it only made the edge of my irritation sharper. He was acting as if we were something we clearly weren't… at least on my part.

I stayed silent, trying to shrink into myself, but Vincent wasn't having it. His fingers caught my chin before I could pull away.

"How are you feeling?" he pressed, his voice annoyingly tender as his thumb brushed against my skin. I jerked my head back, disgust curling in my stomach.

"I'm fine," I snapped, my tone sharp as intended. "You didn't need to come."

Vincent's lips curled into a smirk, the kind that made me want to wipe it off his face with the heaviest book I could find.

"You've always been stubborn, Iris," he said with a light chuckle that felt more like a taunt.

"You could've ignored me like before," I added, throwing his indifference back at him.

His smirk deepened, and I knew he was enjoying this—enjoying me being irritated.

"Ignored you?" he repeated, his voice laced with faux shock. "How could I possibly ignore you when the future queen of Estoria and my Luna was lying unconscious for two days, making every doctor in the kingdom pull their hair out? You've caused quite a bit of chaos, you know. I don't think you're in a position to be mad at me."

The audacity in his tone made my jaw clench. "I'm not mad," I bit out, glaring at him.

Vincent cocked an eyebrow, giving me a look that screamed, Sure, Iris. He glanced at the room's occupants, who had all been standing awkwardly like furniture and with a mere flick of his wrist, everyone shuffled out almost instantly. The door clicked shut behind Hannah, leaving us alone.

The air grew heavy, thick with an uncomfortable tension. Vincent crossed the distance between us and sat far too close for my liking. His hand came up again, brushing the side of my neck, and I flinched, glaring at him.

"Relax," he drawled, his green eyes glittering with amusement. "I'm not doing anything." He paused, letting the corner of his mouth lift in a wicked grin. "Not until after our wedding, at least."

The word "wedding" slithered over my ears like a venomous snake, wrapping itself tightly around me.

Every day, the wedding sounded more and more like a trap rather than a union, it almost felt like a clear threat at that point.

"What do you want, Vincent?" I demanded, my voice firm. "Why are you even here?"

His smirk faltered, replaced by a look of feigned patience. "When did it start?" he asked, his tone calm but carrying an edge that made me bristle.

"When did what start?" I snapped, folding my arms and glaring at him.

"Don't play dumb, Iris," he said with a low chuckle that was somehow more irritating than his smirk. "Your illness…"

His eyes narrowed as he leaned in slightly, invading my space. "Hannah told me this was the second time you've gone unconscious for days without an explanation. Care to enlighten me, or do I need to hire someone to drag the truth out of you?"

I froze, my gaze dropping to the floor. My heartbeat quickened as his words sank in. "The second time… then the first time must be when I entered her body?" I thought, my mind racing.

When I didn't respond, Vincent let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning back as if I were a particularly difficult quiz he hadn't solved yet. "You know, Iris" he began, his voice laced with mock sympathy, "it's fine if you want to keep your little secrets. But don't think for a second I won't find out eventually. I always do."

My breaths seized at his warning, different possibilities crashing through my mind. "Does he know?" That I wasn't the real Iris he thought he was talking to—that it was someone entirely different trapped in her body.

"If he finds out, what's going to happen to me?" The thought clawed at my mind, stealing the air from my lungs. "No, no, no, Annalise. You're fine!" I reassured myself, forcing a mask of composure as I prepared to answer Vincent's question.

I glanced up, meeting his piercing gaze, though my stomach twisted violently at the mere idea of him uncovering the truth.

"I'm… not quite sure," I said, my voice strained and catching in my throat. "I'm just as confused as you are…" I added, praying he'd accept my half-truth.

Vincent didn't respond right away. His sharp eyes stayed locked on me, scrutinizing every twitch, every flicker of unease. He was searching for a crack in my façade, some evidence that I was lying—but he wouldn't find any because It wasn't exactly a lie—everything happening to me was a confusing, tangled mess. Why I was here in the first place. Why I was in Iris's body. Why I was now dreaming about her. Every question spiraled without answers.