Married to the Alpha

Chapter Three: Reason

|MARIA|

"Mmm...,” I murmured, feeling the softness of the mattress beneath me. Was my bed always this indulgently comfortable? I longed to keep my eyes closed, too drowsy to open them. The scent of roses lingered on the pillowcase and the soft blanket enveloping me. A cool breeze brushed against my cheeks, and the rustling of leaves drifted through the open window.

Then, strange sounds began to intrude—whispers? I frowned, confused by the noises in my room. Was I not alone?

The answer became clear when Aunt Helen’s voice drifted through, filled with concern. “She needs to rest. Maybe she was too exhausted from yesterday,” she said.

Why was she here? And what did she mean about being too tired? I was about to open my eyes when a deep, baritone voice interrupted, saying “Thanks.”

This was unsettling. No man had ever entered my room besides my brother or father. Resolute, I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was a creamy ceiling and an opulent chandelier adorned with classic designs. The room exudes timeless elegance, but it was unmistakably not mine.

I scrambled out of bed, wincing as pain surged through my body. Bruises covered my arms, and a quick peek beneath the blanket revealed the same grim state of my legs. How did I end up like this?

Suddenly, memories flashed back: the deal, the werewolves that had chased me, and the man who had saved me.

“Are you feeling better now, Maria?” Aunt Helen’s anxious face came into view as she approached. But my attention was drawn to the man standing behind her, leaning against the doorway with his hands in his pockets. He looked up as he sensed my gaze, and though I recognized his features—thick brows, a sharp nose, an angular jaw, and full lips—his eyes were different from what I remembered. I scrutinized him, trying to determine if he was the same man from the previous night.

When I recognized him, realizing the only difference was his eye color, my breath caught in my throat. I scrambled backward until I hit the headboard, replaying the events of the previous night in my mind. I remembered him shifting into a human, just like the other werewolves who had hunted me. His fiery gaze burned into me, and the details of what happened next were lost in the haze of my fainting.

But why was he here now? What was he doing in this room?

His sharp, unwavering gaze bore into me, and I instinctively tightened my grip on the thick comforter. My heart raced as I felt his stare cutting through me.

“Can you give us a moment, Auntie? I need to speak with her,” he said, directing his request at the older woman seated at the edge of the bed.

Aunt Helen, her eyes warm and kind, gave me a reassuring smile before standing up. Without thinking, I scrambled toward her, grabbing her hand and looking up at her with pleading eyes. She paused, clearly taken aback by my sudden move.

“Do you need something?” she asked, concern flickering in her gaze. I struggled to find my voice, but only silence came out. After a few moments, I managed to stammer out my request.

“C-Can you p-please stay with us?” I pleaded, my words faltering.

She offered a gentle smile at my request and sat back down beside me, pulling me into a comforting embrace as she stroked my back. Her soothing words were meant to reassure me.

“Don’t worry, hurting you is the last thing Lucas would do,” she whispered, her voice soft and comforting. She gave me a brief hug before exiting the room with the doctor. I wanted to stop her, but the man’s intense glare made it impossible. As soon as Aunt Helen was out, he closed the door with a definitive click.

I turned my gaze anywhere but at him, but his icy stare seemed to follow me relentlessly. Despite my efforts to avoid meeting his eyes, something compelled me to glance back. I locked eyes with his silver ones, no longer the red I had seen the night before.

I yearned to distance myself from him, but the space was too confined. He didn't even flinch as he watched my every move, his gaze tracking my every attempt to shift away.

My heart somersaulted wildly within my chest, a strange sensation twisting in my stomach. I swallowed hard, clutching the comforter as if it could shield me from the man advancing toward me. The dread I felt didn’t waver.

He exuded an aura of authority, his mere presence demanding respect. I averted my gaze, focusing on the view outside the window, where the mountains loomed in the distance. It was my attempt to steady myself and redirect my fear.

I heard him sigh and take another step closer. He settled on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking beneath him, causing my heart to race even faster. Despite my efforts, my eyes were drawn to him. He sat with one knee folded, the other leg braced on the floor for balance, his hands resting on his thighs.

When our eyes locked again, I couldn’t tear my gaze away, as if his stare had a magnetic pull. I noticed the details of his eyes—the long, thick lashes and the striking silver irises that seemed peculiar yet fitting for him.

"How are you?" he asked, his eyes penetrating as though peering into my very soul.

His question took me by surprise, leaving me stiffened in shock. It was the last thing I expected him to say.

So why...

The fear that had gripped me moments ago burst like a fragile bubble. I tried to match his gaze, but his stare was too intense, and I found myself giving in. His heavy sigh drew my attention once more. When I looked back, I saw him gazing downward at his legs, as if something fascinating had captured his interest. But the clenched fist he was trying to hide told me otherwise. It was clear he had a short fuse.

"I’m asking you again, how are you feeling? Are you alright?" His voice, though controlled, carried an edge.

"I-I’m fine," I stammered, meeting his gaze for a fleeting moment before looking away. The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the ticking clock, our synchronized breaths, and the whisper of the wind rustling the leaves outside.

He turned away from me, presenting a brief opportunity to observe him. I bit my lower lip, realizing that this was far preferable to him facing me directly. His shoulders heaved as he moved, then abruptly stood and walked toward the door. I hoped he was leaving me alone, but my hopes were dashed when he paused beside a table, retrieved something, and returned to the bed with a tray of food.

“Have your breakfast first,” he said, setting the tray down with an abruptness that matched his grim expression. He sighed deeply, placing his hands on his hips. “We’ll discuss our arrangement after you’ve eaten.”

My brow furrowed at his cryptic mention of "arrangement." What could he possibly mean? Just as I was about to question him, he turned abruptly and exited the room, the door clicking shut behind him. I was left in the silence, puzzled and slightly unsettled by his sudden departure.

His vague reference to the "arrangement" nagged at me throughout breakfast, and almost an hour had slipped by since the silver-eyed man had vanished. Lost in thought, I was startled when the door creaked open. For a fleeting moment, I expected to see him again, but my tension eased as Aunt Helen’s cheerful presence filled the doorway.

"Good morning! How’s the breakfast?" she asked, her bright demeanor contrasting with my confusion.

"Better, Auntie... just a few aches," I replied, glancing at the white box she carried. She set it down beside me and opened it, revealing an assortment of supplies: cotton balls, disinfectant, plaster tape, Band-Aids, and gauze.

"Looks like last night’s escapades left their mark. Lucas mentioned you nearly ran a mile and were almost at the town's edge," she explained. I was stunned. A mile? Did I really run that far?

As she began to tend to my wounds, a sudden sting in my arm made me flinch. Her steady hands worked efficiently, and I grimaced through the discomfort, grateful for her care.

“All done,” she said with a satisfied smile, and I looked at my arms and legs now adorned with small patches. I managed a smile in return, relieved by her skillful touch.

“Lucas asked me to let you know that you’ll be meeting him in his study once you’re patched up. I’ll take you there,” she added, ready to escort me to my next destination.

I tensed as I heard her mention his name again.

Lucas.

So, he wants to speak with me now? Is this about that arrangement he mentioned before leaving me here? Does it pertain to the deal, the very reason for my presence? To be honest, I have no clue about the arrangement or the deal. My parents only instructed me to stay with the young Lancaster and fulfill my part, leaving me in the dark about the specifics.

"But, can you walk?" Aunt Helen's voice snapped me back to reality. She stood ready to assist, the first aid kit perched on the nightstand. I glanced at her and smiled.

"No need, Auntie. I think I can manage," I replied confidently. She eyed me with skepticism but eventually stepped back, giving me space.

I attempted to get out of bed, bracing myself for a walk. Yet, as soon as my feet hit the carpet and I tried to stand, a sharp pain coursed through my muscles. Did I really run so far last night that it left me this sore? I gritted my teeth and took a few tentative steps, but soon I collapsed onto the floor, groaning in discomfort.

"Dios Mio!" Auntie cried out in alarm. She rushed to my side and helped me back to bed.

"It seems you can’t walk on your own just yet. I’ll get Lucas—"

"No, Auntie!" I interrupted sharply. She raised an eyebrow, puzzled by my reaction. I turned away and sighed deeply. I didn’t want to trouble him unnecessarily.

"Actually, I think I can do it," I said, trying to stand again, only to fail miserably. My legs were throbbing with every attempt. Aunt Helen sighed in resignation.

"I’m not convinced! Stay put and rest. I’ll call him now," she declared before exiting the room. I sighed and returned to bed, stretching out my legs and surveying the room.

The opulence of this seemingly haunted mansion was surprising. It’s true what they say: you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

As I pondered why I was here—my freedom bartered for my family’s well-being—I struggled to reconcile my feelings. Despite their actions, my love for them remains steadfast, and I would sacrifice again if it meant ensuring their welfare.

As I lost myself in thought, the sound of the doorknob turning snapped me back to reality. I held my breath, hoping it was Aunt Helen, but as the door swung open and the silver-eyed man stepped in, my gaze locked onto his.

Lucas.

He closed the door behind him, the click of the lock amplifying my unease.

"Why did you lock it?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Ignoring my question, he approached, dragging a chair noisily across the floor until he was positioned a few feet away from me. He sat, arms crossed, leaning back in the chair as he studied me intently. I tried to avoid his gaze, uncomfortable under his piercing stare.

“W-Why did you lock the door?” I asked, barely above a whisper. My heart is beating so loud against my chest. The thought of what I had witnessed last night made…fear him. He’s a werewolf so how come I won’t get nervous and agitated around him?

“Why? Is there a problem with locking the door?” he said, his voice deep and unyielding. “I don’t want anyone disturbing us.” The gravity of his tone made me gasp for air, as if I had forgotten to breathe.

I remained frozen, my eyes darting away from him. His presence was overwhelming, making me uncomfortable. Whenever I stole a glance, his gaze met mine—dark, serious, and devoid of any softness. It was clear he was not a gentle soul but rather someone rough and ruthless. I quickly averted my gaze, but his eyes remained on me, tracking my every movement. My anxiety grew with every second he watched me.

You…fear me,” he said abruptly. It wasn’t a question. I lowered my head, fully aware of the aura he exuded. As he stood and walked towards me, panic surged through my body.

Oh damn. What should I do? What should I do?

I clutched the comforter tightly, using it as a shield against him. My fear intensified when he sat on the bed, moving closer until he was only a few feet away. What was he planning?

I held my breath, the space between us feeling like an abyss. He remained still, studying me with a gaze that felt like an intense scrutiny. I tried to look away, but his gaze was like a spotlight, focusing solely on me. When I finally met his eyes, I was struck again by the silver of them, which seemed to suit him perfectly. Despite my trembling fear, I couldn’t help but think he looked captivating. He was the reason I was here. I cleared my throat, breaking the tense silence.

“Can you please… um, put some distance between us? It’s making me uncomfortable.”

He seemed taken aback by my request, his jaw tensing.

“You fear me,” he whispered again, his voice softer but laden with an unsettling certainty. After a pause, he let out a deep sigh. “You should learn not to be afraid of me. From now on, you’ll be with me wherever I go.”

My breath caught in my throat as he closed the distance between us. My eyes widened in shock, my heartbeat loud in my ears. He positioned himself so that his hands were at my sides, effectively trapping me. I gripped the comforter tighter, hoping it would somehow protect me from him.

“Who are you?” I asked out of the blue, feeling his body tense in response. Realization struck, and I cursed silently. Of course, he was the only one living in this mansion. He must be Aunt Helen’s boss, and the owner of this house. How could I forget?

“I’m Lucas Lancaster,” he simply replied, making me wish the earth would swallow me whole out of embarrassment.

Of course, his name was Lucas and he’s a Lancaster! He keeps on staring at me and I must say that his proximity was making me increasingly uncomfortable.

“A-Ah… c-can you—” I started to explain our situation, but he interrupted me.

“You’ve grown… so beautiful,”

My heart skipped a beat. I hadn’t expected such a compliment, and I found myself staring at him in surprise. But as I met his gaze, I became acutely aware of the closeness of his face to mine, feeling his hot breath against my skin. I tried to look away, but it was impossible.

“W-What are you… doing?” my voice trembled.

As I caught his gaze, something inside me stirred, a mix of adoration and confusion. Why is he looking at me like that? I don’t even know if I was seeing things or not. Because for a moment, I could see the longing in his…eyes.

I bit my lower lip, feeling his eyes linger on my lips. I should have pulled away, but I couldn't bring myself to. I watched as Adam's apple bobbed before his eyes returned to meet mine. Then his fingers brushed against my chin, sending a shiver through me. I held his gaze, trying to memorize every detail of his eyes, feeling a feverish warmth spread through me.

Summoning every ounce of control, I stammered, “U-Uh. W-What are we going to talk about?” I tried to shift the tension, fearing what might happen if this silent confrontation continued.

He didn’t seem to hear me, his expression frozen as if he were in a trance. I called out softly, “Lucas…?” The name slipped out in a whisper.

He blinked, as if snapping back to reality, his face a blend of shock and frustration. He finally moved back, though his eyes remained locked on mine.

“We’re…” he began, then paused, blinking rapidly. His lips tightened into a grim line before he abruptly stood, storming out of the room. I was left alone, bewildered and questioning what had just transpired.

I expected him to return, but he didn’t. I waited nearly an hour, but no sign of him until dinner was served in my room. I wanted to ask Aunt Helen about him, but it wasn’t my place to intrude. This was his domain, and I had no right to demand his presence.

The next day, Aunt Helen continued to look after me as I convalesced, keeping me in the room throughout the day. It took a few days before I was fully recovered. Despite my insistence on handling things myself, Aunt Helen remained steadfast in her care.

During those days, Lucas remained a ghostly presence, and though I wasn’t desperate to see him, I was curious about what he had planned for me while I was here. I recalled my father’s insistence that Lucas wanted me for some reason. But why? Why had he forced my parents to pay him if he had no clear plan?

Finally, while helping Aunt Helen clean the kitchen after breakfast, I asked, “Auntie, where’s Lucas?” She paused and looked at me, her curiosity piqued.

“Why? Haven’t you seen him?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yes, it’s been… three days?” I counted the days since our last encounter. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, and she stopped washing the dishes, murmuring something under her breath.

"That child! He said he was coming to see you, and then..." Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. I was momentarily stunned as I watched her slip out of the kitchen, her murmured complaints growing fainter with each step.

I shrugged off my surprise and turned back to finish her chores, scrubbing the last of the dishes until the sink was finally clear. I had intended to tackle the cookware next, but a sudden, palpable tension in the room made me freeze.

Slowly, I turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze, intense and unreadable, seemed to pierce through me. I struggled to decipher his expression—was he angry, or was it something else? His furrowed brows cast shadows over his eyes, adding to the enigma of his stare.

Confusion swirled in my mind. Is he here because Auntie had mentioned me? Had I even told Auntie I wanted to see him? I pushed aside my racing thoughts and approached a nearby chair, my body betraying me with a mix of nerves and excitement. My hands and knees trembled as I sank into the seat, trying to steady my voice.

"A-Ah... d-did Aunt Helen t-tell you to see me?" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

He remained silent for a moment, then rose and moved toward me. Relief washed over me as he took a seat across the table, though his stern expression remained unchanged. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to continue, but his unyielding gaze made it nearly impossible.

"I-I just w-wanted to ask…" I hesitated, my words faltering under the weight of his stare. I quickly averted my gaze, avoiding his penetrating eyes. "...W-What w-will happen t-to me now?" I forced myself to ask, despite the discomfort of his intense focus.

Without responding, he shifted closer. I fought the urge to look at him, but when I felt his presence right beside me, I couldn't help but glance over. Then, he had pulled a chair beside mine and was now facing me directly. His full attention was on me, and his proximity heightened the tension. As if that weren’t enough, he seemed dissatisfied with the distance between us. I felt his hand on the bottom of my chair as he dragged it towards him, turning me to face him squarely. My eyes widened in surprise, and I nearly gasped in shock, my heart pounding so loudly it felt like it might burst. It took several moments before I managed to steady my breathing.

"S-So?" I began again, pushing aside the recent upheaval. I lowered my gaze, bracing myself. "W-What will happen to m-me now?" I repeated, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “What are y-your plans?”

“What do you think?” he inquired, his voice steady but laden with expectation. I found myself staring back at him, bewildered.

Why was he asking me this? Hadn’t he made it clear that he wanted me here, even going so far as to force my family to settle our debt? And now he was questioning my role?

Perhaps my confusion and irritation were evident. He dragged the chair closer, reducing the space between us. I held my breath, my hand instinctively resting on his firm arm for balance, as if to steady myself from the surprise of our close proximity. A fleeting smile touched his lips at our sudden touch. Realizing what I had done, I quickly withdrew my hand.

His eyes twinkled with amusement, and I scowled at his reaction. Leaning in, his breath grazed my ear as he whispered hoarsely, “What do you think your role is, my lovely wife?”

The word “wife” struck me like a bolt, freezing me in place. I stared at him, unable to process the shock.

“What?” I stammered, blinking rapidly. Was I hearing him correctly? His brow furrowed as he noticed my bewilderment.

“Your parents didn’t tell you?” he asked with a trace of acid in his voice, realizing I was in the dark about his meaning.

Is he serious?

I swallowed hard, clutching my chest as a wave of breathlessness overcame me. Trembling, I clenched my fists on my thighs, feeling a sudden dizziness. I looked up, seeking any hint of jest in his eyes, but his gaze remained unyieldingly serious and cold.

Oh my God.

“The reason you’re here,” he said, his words heavy with gravity, “is to fulfill your duties as my wife.” The confession rocked my world more than I could have imagined.