Alpha Santa

The Mate’s Fury

"Through the door,” he replies sarcastically, standing there shirtless, his infuriatingly smug smirk making my blood boil.

Did he hear my thoughts?

“What the hell are you doing here?” I stammer, embarrassment washing over me as my face flushes a deep crimson.

He crosses his arms and leans casually against the wall, like he owns the place. “What does it look like? I’m doing my job.”

“This is not your job!” I hiss, clutching the robe tighter to my chest. “You’re supposed to be—this is supposed to be—oh my God!”

His grin widens, and he takes a slow step closer, his eyes dark with amusement. “What? You seemed like you were enjoying it.”

“I didn’t know it was you!” I shout.

“Well,” he says with a shrug, “now you do. Who else would dare touch your body if not me, your mate?”

Again with his crazy word?

My hands tremble as I grab my clothes, trying to ignore the heat coursing through my body. “This is wildly unprofessional! You—ugh, you’re impossible!”

“I’m impossible?” He repeats, his tone dripping with mock offense. “You’re the one who was moaning like I was giving you more than just a massage.”

I storm past him, my face burning with humiliation and rage. “You’re insufferable!” I snap, slamming the door to the changing room behind me. His low, infuriating laugh echoes in my ears.

Goddess, how am I even considering him as my fake husband? This is a terrible idea.

I yank on my clothes, muttering angrily under my breath, “Unbelievable. Just… who does he think he is?”

Your soon-to-be fake husband.

The memory of his hands on my skin makes my face burn. My traitorous brain can’t stop flashing back to how good it felt, but I shove the thought away. I don’t have time for this nonsense.

When I re-enter the massage room, I find him leaning casually against the wall, his shirt now firmly back in place. A part of me—one I’d rather not acknowledge—feels a pang of disappointment. Shaking the thought away, I focus on glaring at him.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” I snap, crossing my arms and feeling slightly more confident now that I’m fully dressed. “How did you even get in here? Better yet, why? Do you just stalk women for fun?”

Elijah smirks, his arms folded across his broad chest. “I didn’t think you’d mind. Besides, I have something important to tell you concerning our deal. That’s why I came… as your fake husband.”

How did he even find me? This hotel is massive. I thought he was just a waiter.

I gape at him, heat rushing to my cheeks. “I don’t care if what you have to say is important. You are completely inappropriate, and I’m reporting you to your boss for barging into a women’s spa!”

He shrugs, infuriatingly calm. “Do what you want. My boss is very understanding. He knows this couldn’t wait.”

“Oh, does he?” I shoot back. “And what, exactly, is so important that you felt the need to barge in on me?”

Elijah straightens, his expression softening in a way that makes my stomach flip. “You.”

The word hangs in the air between us, heavy and loaded.

I narrow my eyes, ignoring the strange fluttering in my chest. “Stop saying weird things. And what is this nonsense about me being your ‘mate’? What does that even mean?”

He steps closer, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. “You’ll understand soon enough, Piper.”

“Stop being cryptic,” I snap, taking a step back. “I don’t have time for—”

A familiar scream from outside cuts me off.

“Zoe!” The name flies from my lips as I spin toward the door.

I glance back at Elijah, who looks as calm as ever, and I don’t wait for him to follow. I throw the door open and bolt down the hallway, my heart pounding in my chest.

As I round the corner, the sight that greets me freezes me in place. Zack has Zoe by the hair, dragging her toward the spa’s entrance. Her face is twisted in pain, her nails clawing at his hand as she struggles to break free.

“Let her go!” I shout, charging toward them.

Zack doesn’t even look at me. His grip tightens, and Zoe cries out. Fury surges through me, and I lunge, grabbing his arm and yanking with all my strength.

“Get off me, Piper!” Zack growls, his free hand swinging toward me. The slap lands hard, a sharp sting exploding across my cheek as I stumble and hit the ground.

Pain blooms on my face, but I barely have time to register it before a deep, guttural growl fills the air. The sound sends a shiver down my spine, and I look up, my eyes widening.

Elijah is there, his once beautiful blue eyes now glowing a molten gold that almost seems to burn.

Zack barely has time to react before Elijah moves. One moment Zack is towering over Zoe; the next, he’s lifted off the ground like a ragdoll, Elijah’s hand wrapped around his throat.

Zoe collapses to the floor, trembling. I scramble to her side, wrapping my arms around her as she sobs into my shoulder.

“Elijah, stop,” I whisper, my voice shaking as I glance up at him.

Elijah’s hand is wrapped tightly around Zack’s throat, his knuckles white, his muscles taut with rage. Zack is struggling, his face turning an alarming shade of red. Elijah looks like he’s ready to crush him, his cold, blazing eyes locked on Zack as if nothing else exists.

“Elijah!” I yell again, stepping closer despite the trembling in my knees. “Let him go! He’s still a guest here. Do you have any idea what will happen if you kill him? You’ll lose your job!”

His head snaps toward me, his jaw clenched so tight I can almost hear his teeth grinding. “I don’t give a f**k about the job,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “This bastard dies for laying his hands on you.”

“No!” I shout, my voice breaking. “No, Elijah! He’s not worth it. We’ll report him to the police—let them handle it!”

Elijah shakes his head, his grip tightening. Zack’s wheezing becomes more desperate. “This isn’t a police matter,” Elijah snaps, his eyes burning into mine. “I’ll handle it my way.”

I glance down at Zoe, who’s still sobbing on the floor. I can’t let this escalate any further. My heart pounds as I step closer, reaching out. My fingers brush against Elijah’s arm, trembling as I gently touch his hand.

“Elijah,” I whisper, my voice soft but pleading. “Please. Let him go.”

For a moment, he’s motionless, like a predator deciding whether to back down or strike. But then I see it—the shift. His shoulders loosen, his jaw unclenches, and the fire in his eyes dims ever so slightly. Slowly, he releases Zack, who collapses to the floor, coughing and gasping for air.

Elijah towers over him, his voice cold and calm now. “Consider this your lucky day,” he says, taking a step back.

Zack wheezes, clutching his throat. Instead of gratitude, his face twists into fury. “You think this is over?” he spits out, his voice raspy. “I’m going to get you fired! Where’s the boss? Huh?” He spins toward a nearby staff member. “You! Call the boss right now!”

The young woman hesitates, glancing nervously at Elijah. Then, with a shaky finger, she points at him. “H-he’s the boss.”

“What?” Zack stares at her, then at Elijah. “No, no, no. Call your boss! I want this asshole fired!”

Elijah takes a menacing step forward, and Zack flinches. I quickly grab Elijah’s arm again, pulling him back. “He’s not worth it,” I murmur, giving him a firm look.

Suddenly the door swings open with a loud thud, and all heads turn. A tall, impeccably dressed man steps inside, his presence commanding, but his aura wasn't as intense as that of Elijah. His sharp suit molds to his broad shoulders, and his dark eyes sweep over the room. For a moment, he locks eyes with Elijah, and something silent passes between them—an understanding, a challenge; I can’t tell which.

The man clears his throat, his deep voice cutting through the tension. “I’m the director of this hotel. What seems to be the problem?”

Before anyone can answer, his gaze shifts to Zoe. His expression softens instantly, his eyes filling with something I can only describe as… longing.

“Who the hell are you?” Zack snaps, oblivious to the shift in the air. “You need to fire this guy! He assaulted me—tried to kill me!”

The man doesn’t even look at Zack. His eyes are still on Zoe, as if she’s the only thing in the room. I dare say he looks at me the same way Elijah does.

Zack keeps ranting, oblivious to the fact that no one is listening. “…I dragged my girlfriend by the hair because she wouldn’t listen! I was nice! I asked her politely—”

Crack!

The director’s fist slams into Zack’s face with such force that he stumbles back, blood spurting from his nose.

“Elijah, stop!” I gasp, but it’s not Elijah. It’s the director. I can't stop him.

He doesn’t stop. Another punch lands, then another. Each blow is filled with a fury I’ve never seen before.

“How dare you touch my mate?” He roars, his voice like thunder.

Mate. That word again. My head snaps toward Elijah, who’s smirking, as if enjoying the show.

“What—what is happening?” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the chaos.

Zoe suddenly scrambles to her feet, running toward the director. “Stop! Don’t kill him!” she cries, tears streaming down her face. “I still love him!”

The director freezes mid-punch, his chest heaving. Slowly, he turns to face Zoe, his piercing eyes filled with disbelief and anger. “You what?” he growls.

“I love him,” Zoe whispers, her voice shaking.

The director’s expression hardens, and with a flick of his wrist, he throws Zack to the side like a discarded toy. He steps closer to Zoe, towering over her. “You love this piece of s**t who drags you around like you’re nothing?”

Zoe nods, her face crumbling with guilt and fear.

The director exhales sharply, his jaw clenching. Without another word, he storms out of the room, his footsteps echoing like thunder.

Elijah smirks, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “I’ll be back, princess. We still have a lot to talk about.”

And just like that, he follows the director, leaving me standing in the aftermath.

I turn to Zoe, who’s now cradling Zack’s bloody, unconscious form, her tears falling onto his battered face. The sound of approaching medics fills the room. As they lift Zack onto a stretcher, Zoe tries to follow, but I grab her arm.

“No,” I say firmly despite the whirlwind of questions swirling in my mind. “Let him go. That’s his punishment for what he did to you.”