Bound to the Bastard Alpha

Adam's POV

A distant sound pulled me slowly from sleep, something I couldn't quite place in my foggy mind.

I squinted against the light trying to invade my eyelids, then shut them again and stretched with a deep yawn.

Lying there, memories of last night flooded back like a movie on repeat.

I reached out tentatively to touch her smooth skin, still able to smell that soft feminine fragrance that made me crave her all over again.

But my hand met only the softness of empty sheets.

My eyes snapped open immediately.

Where was she?

I sat up fast, looking around with startled confusion. She didn't seem like the type to bail without even a goodbye, but her things were completely gone. Those feisty auburn hair and seemingly green eyes behind that mask.

I shut my eyes in pure frustration.

She didn't just run away from me.

Now I'd be left with nothing but memories of how she smelled, how she felt beneath my hands, and the sounds she made. Hell, I didn't even know her name to begin with.

I ran my fingers through my messy hair and clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached. "Damn it," I muttered under my breath, fuming.

Then something caught my eye and I looked again just to make sure I wasn't seeing things.

No way in hell did this mysterious woman leave me cash on the shelf!

What did she think I was, some kind of male prostitute?

Those neatly stacked bills were more humiliating than her running away. Was she trying to pay me off like I was some hired entertainment?

I let out a bitter laugh of frustration.

Looking at the bed where she'd lain beside me, I noticed tiny drops of dried discolored liquid on the sheets. My stomach dropped.

Is that what I think it is?

I lifted the sheets to examine it closer and my fears were confirmed.

Blood.

Fuck.

Don't tell me she was a virgin.

I did not just have a one night stand with a virgin.

No wonder she left. She was probably too terrified to face me after last night, so she ran before I could wake up.

Wait.

She wasn't a minor, was she?

I knew she looked mature with her body and everything, but you could never really tell a woman's true age these days.

I was completely done for.

I ran my fingers through my hair again, fighting the overwhelming urge to punch something just to vent the frustration building like pressure in my chest.

Then my supernatural instincts caught hints of someone walking hastily toward my door and I braced myself.

It had to be her. She was coming back. She must have realized she wasn't supposed to run from me.

I raised my eyes in anticipation as those hasty footsteps drew closer and closer.

The door swung open with such force it startled me, and then I let out a frustrated sigh.

It wasn't her.

"What are you doing still in bed?" Lucian demanded and I sighed again but kept quiet.

"Go get yourself in your tux, man. You're late for your own wedding." He scowled at me with his huge arms folded across his chest. My best friend was clearly pissed.

I glanced at my alarm clock and realized that annoying sound that woke me up was the alarm itself. I was running late.

"Okay, okay," I said resignedly, frowning hard.

"You know everyone is waiting for you," Lucian continued. "Hell, your father is threatening to disown you if you don't show up and hold up your end of the agreement." My best friend and beta reminded me, beyond pissed now.

I let out another heavy sigh.

The fucking agreement.

I rolled my eyes. My morning was just getting worse and worse.

"Why do you even let them do this to you?" Lucian asked, not caring that I'd been silent this whole time. "You know very well this is all your stepmother's handiwork, but you keep letting them use you like some puppet."

I looked away because I knew he was right.

"She knows getting you mated with some insignificant bride will further prove your supposed weakness. Yet you let them do it when you're more than capable of stopping it all." Lucian's teeth were gritted in anger.

This was why I loved my beta and best friend. He knew and fully understood my pain. What he didn't understand was why I was doing any of this.

"Lucian," I began.

"Why don't you just call it all off? I'll help you. Let's get rid of everything and everyone who's trying to control you." His suggestion was deadly serious.

I let out a small smile. "There will be no calling off the marriage ceremony. I'll marry my bride." My tone was resolute, a knowing smile playing on my lips. "No matter what, I have to continue my life this way. At least for now."

I was also trying to convince myself. It was all just a process I had to endure.

Lucian sighed in resignation because he knew I was a stubborn asshole who never changed his mind once it was made up. "Then at least make it to the wedding if you want to go through with this shitty agreement." His voice had a sharp edge.

I nodded.

"I'll wait outside," he said and turned to leave.

Then a thought struck me. "Lucian, wait."

He turned back.

"Last night, the woman I was with... can you help me find her?" I tried to hide my desperation but failed miserably. Those auburn hair and green eyes were the only things I could remember about her.

"I'll try my best," my best friend said and left.

I let out another sigh.

"Can I get my suit and wheelchair, Atticus?" I said aloud, sensing my butler's presence at the bedroom door.

"Yes, sir," Atticus responded immediately, wheeling in my wheelchair along with the neatly ironed black tuxedo.

A few hours later, Atticus was wheeling me toward the venue.

I sat with my knees cramped uncomfortably in the wheelchair as we approached the hall where I'd be wedded to my bride. I wore my wedding suit perfectly and my hair was styled sleekly back. The blue bow tie accentuated my sea blue eyes nicely.

I smiled bitterly.

I was the perfect weakling groom.

My bride was probably some unfortunate woman who had no other suitors and was left with no choice but to marry the ugly, crippled, illegitimate bastard of the Blackwood pack.

She was definitely unlucky.

I must have been too deep in thought because someone was standing in front of me covered with a shawl, clearly wanting to speak with me. But I was already wearing the mean and arrogant exterior I used to protect myself, so I ignored whoever it was as Atticus wheeled me right past them.

This was what I did. Protected myself from everyone's rashness and pity.

Seeing as I was crippled, they all tried to sympathize with me.

And I was not some pathetic charity case who needed anybody's pity!​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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