ALPHA BIKER WHO CLAIMED HIS BROTHER'S MATE

25

MAYA’S POV

I stared at Rafe, my mouth ajar, my breath coming in shallow hitches. I was still trying to process the entire thing. One moment I was f*****g him, and now he was asking for my hand in marriage as if he were simply ordering a drink at a bar. At least he was trying to cover my dignity; I should give him props for that.

"Well?" he asked, raising a brow as his voice filled the space between us. His eyes were dark and locked onto mine with a ferocity that made it impossible to look away.

"Ye… yes," I stammered. The word felt weird in my mouth. "I mean… I have to protect my image. I can't let them tear me apart again, Rafe. I can't."

He just stared at me with no emotion in his eyes. Maybe he was realizing the gravity of what we were about to do. It was for better or for worse. Then, it slowly started to sink into my mind, too.

Was I insane? I had just agreed to marry the Alpha Prince rebel—the man who had just used me against a wall while his ex-girlfriend watched. I didn't know if I had made the right choice; in fact, every instinct told me I was jumping from the frying pan into a literal inferno. But the fear of the pack’s judgment—of being the "discarded mistress" forever—outweighed the terror. This was the safer choice; it was better than nothing.

Rafe’s expression suddenly softened, and he pulled away before I could catch the corner of his lips lift slightly.

"Very well then," he said, his hand reaching out to hold mine in a bruising grip. "We have an announcement to make."

"What?" My heart jumped. “We are making it public?”

“Yes. Or am I supposed to marry you in private?”

“I...” My mouth fell ajar and I shook my head.

“I know it is not something to be very proud of—leaving the Alpha King for his low-life brother—but do you have a choice?” he asked.

“No... that is not what I mean, Rafe. It is just so sudden.”

“Not as sudden as Jane’s mouth. I can bet she has told half of the guests already. So we better move it.”

He started to pull me toward the light of the main house, but I dug my heels into the dirt. "Wait!" I hissed, tugging my hand back.

“What now?” he groaned.

"I can't go in there like this." I gestured down at myself. I could still feel his c*m between my thighs, a constant, sticky reminder of what we’d just done. "Can you… can you go in and get me some napkins? I need to wipe. I’m a mess."

Rafe paused, his brow arching. Instead of heading inside, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded square of fabric. He snapped it open. It was a crisp, white handkerchief that smelled like him. It looked far too clean to be used for something like this.

"I can’t use that," I whispered, shaking my head. "It’s too nice, Rafe. It’s clean and..."

He stepped back into my personal space, his shadow looming over me. A dark, wicked glint appeared in his eyes. "Choose, Maya," he spoke in a low tone. "My tongue or my hanky?"

My face flamed into a deep, dark red. The mental image of him dropping to his knees right here in the dirt made my knees weak for all the wrong reasons.

“Time is ticking, sweetie.”

"Fine," I groaned, snatching the cloth from his hand. I turned slightly away, lifting the hem of my dress to quickly clean up. The handkerchief was soft, and I was happy I didn’t have to use a painful paper towel to wipe. When I was finished, I held the now-soiled fabric out to him, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me. "I'm sorry. I'll wash it, or—"

Before I could finish, he snatched it back from my hand with a swift movement. He didn't look disgusted; if anything, he looked satisfied. "I'll take that," he said shortly, stuffing the ruined silk back into his pocket as if it were a prize.

He didn't give me another second to overthink. He grabbed my hand again, his fingers locking firmly between mine. "Now, let’s go tell your ex-husband he’s about to have a new sister-in-law."

The walk toward the hall felt like a march toward my own execution. The cool night air usually calmed my nerves, but now it only served to make the heat between my legs feel more pronounced. Every step closer to the light and the muffled roar of the crowd made my stomach do a violent somersault.

As we walked in, the shift in the room was instantaneous. The music seemed to dip, and the lively chatter curdled into whispers. I kept my head down, but I could feel the weight of a hundred eyes crawling over my skin.

"Rafe," I whispered, leaning into his side, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. "Jane has talked. Look at them."

His grip on my hand tightened, his thumb grazing my knuckles in a way that should have been soothing but felt like a claim. "Let them look," he muttered, and hardened his gaze.

In the center of the ballroom stood Jalen. He looked every bit the Alpha King—composed and arrogant. He held a champagne flute in one hand, and as we approached, he began to tap it with a silver spoon. The ringing sound cut through the murmurs.

"Welcome, everyone," Jalen announced, his voice echoing across the room. Jalen’s gaze drifted across the crowd until it landed on us. His lips curled into a cold smile. "I'd like to draw your attention to the late arrivals," Jalen said, his eyes locking onto mine with a look of pure, unadulterated disdain. "It seems my brother has decided to join us... accompanied by his mistress."

The word mistress hit me hard. I would never get used to it. I felt the humiliation burn hot and bright in my cheeks, my eyes stinging with the sudden urge to cry. The crowd erupted in a fresh wave of gasps and muffled jeers. I could almost hear the thoughts swirling around the room: shameless, social pariah, discarded.

I tried to pull my hand away, to shrink into the shadows, but Rafe wouldn't let go. He stepped forward, his presence suddenly doubling in size, his Alpha aura flaring out so intensely that the people closest to us actually recoiled.

"Watch your tongue, Jalen," Rafe roared, his voice booming like thunder through the hall, instantly silencing his brother. The room went deathly quiet. Rafe hauled me closer to his side, his arm locking around my waist with a possessive strength that left no room for doubt.

“I am sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt feelings,” Jalen offered, a sloppy apology.

"She is not a mistress," Rafe declared, staring his brother down. "She is my fiancée."

The gasp that went through the room was collective.