One Night With The Cruel Alpha

Elara Thorne POV:

The first pale rays of dawn crept into the room, painting everything in shades of grey. I hadn't slept. The space beside me on the bed was empty and cold, the sheets bearing no trace of Ryker's warmth. I could hear the faint sound of the shower running again from the bathroom. He was already awake, already washing me away.

I forced my aching body to sit up. A sharp, unfamiliar soreness pulsed between my legs, a brutal reminder of the night's events. On the pristine white sheets, a few small, dark stains marred the perfection. The proof of my virginity, offered up and discarded like part of the payment. A wave of humiliation washed over me.

I found the ruined silk nightgown on the floor, its delicate fabric torn beyond repair. I wrapped it around myself anyway, a flimsy shield against the cold morning and my own shame.

The bathroom door opened, and Ryker stepped out. He was already dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit, his hair damp and combed back. He was once again the untouchable Alpha King, every trace of last night's raw, primal male erased. He looked at me, and his eyes were the eyes of a stranger.

I cleared my throat, the sound raw and broken. "Alpha," I began, my voice barely a whisper. "The Moonlight Grass..."

Without a word, he reached over to the nightstand and picked up a small, black velvet pouch. He tossed it onto the bed in front of me. It landed with a soft, light thud that made my stomach sink.

My fingers trembled as I fumbled with the drawstring. I tipped the contents into my palm. A single, dried, pathetic-looking leaf. It wasn't a stalk. It was barely enough to keep Ethan from dying, but it would never be enough to cure him.

I looked up at him, my eyes wide with disbelief. "This... this isn't enough."

A cruel, mocking smile touched the corner of his mouth. "Oh? And how much is one night with you worth, exactly?" He took a step closer, looming over me, his shadow falling across the bed. "For a rogue omega of no consequence, a single leaf is more than generous."

The blood in my veins turned to ice. I had expected coldness, but not this level of deliberate, calculated cruelty.

*Tear him apart!* Lyra shrieked in my mind, her rage a searing inferno. *He insults us! He insults his mate!*

I clamped down on her fury with every ounce of my will. Lashing out at him would be suicide. For Ethan, I had to endure this. I had to swallow this final, bitter pill.

I bowed my head, my hair falling forward to hide my face. "Thank you, Alpha," I managed to choke out.

My quiet submission seemed to annoy him more than any argument would have. A flicker of irritation crossed his face. He’d probably expected me to cry, to beg, to make a scene he could then use as an excuse to have me thrown out. But my numb, quiet despair seemed to unnerve him.

He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a sleek, black credit card. He tossed it onto the bed beside the velvet pouch. "There's money on that. Enough for someone like you to disappear and live comfortably for a while. Now, get your clothes on and be gone before I get back."

He turned and walked toward the door, not gracing me with a final glance.

I stared at the black card, then at the single, pitiful leaf. He was trying to buy my silence, to pay me off and reduce what had happened between us—what the Moon Goddess herself had ordained—to a sordid, financial transaction.

At least the leaf could buy Ethan a little more time. I had to take it.

I slid off the bed and retrieved my old, cheap clothes from the corner where I'd left them. They were stiff and wrinkled, still smelling faintly of the rain and mud from the night before.

As Ryker reached the door, he paused, his hand on the knob. He still didn't turn around. "Don't ever show your face on my lands again," he said, his voice flat and cold as a tombstone.

The door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the opulent room.

I clutched the Moonlight Grass leaf in my fist so tightly my nails dug into my palm, drawing blood. I didn't touch the credit card. That was an insult I would not accept.

Quickly, I pulled on my damp, miserable clothes. I couldn't get out of this place, this monument to my own heartbreak, fast enough. I just wanted to run and never look back.