Caged By The Alpha [His Fiery Eyes , My Messy Life]

Unconventional Mate

🐺 Unconventional Mate

Chapter 3: The Weight of His World

Rhys's possessive whisper—"And I don't like my things looking lost"—reverberated in the crowded hallway, yet somehow, only Elara seemed to hear the full, primal weight of the words. It wasn't a flirty tease; it was a dark declaration that chilled her far deeper than any threat of social exclusion.

She tugged her backpack free from his grip. "I am not a thing, Rhys. And I am certainly not yours."

His eyes—the color of storm clouds—flickered with annoyance, but he kept his voice dangerously low, maintaining the illusion for any onlookers that they were merely having a casual, if tense, conversation.

“Listen, Elara,” he ground out, leaning closer until his clean scent of pine and adrenaline filled her senses. “You think you want to be invisible here. You think if you wear those librarian glasses and hang out in the corner, my world won’t touch yours. You’re wrong. You live in my house. You share my lineage, whether you like it or not.”

“Our parents got married a week ago! We share a mortgage, not a lineage!”

“Tsk,” he dismissed her, straightening up and running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. “You need to understand something important about Crestwood. And about me.” He glanced pointedly at his group across the hall, particularly at Veronica, whose gaze was starting to drift toward them with sharp suspicion. “In this school, you can either be completely invisible, or you can be associated with me. If you try to exist in the uncomfortable middle, you become a target. And I will not have my family—my mate—become a target.”

The word hit her again, making her muscles seize. “Stop calling me that!”

“Stop reacting to it, then,” he challenged, a frustratingly smooth smirk returning to his face. He checked his watch with theatrical boredom. “We have Calculus together. Walk with me.”

“Absolutely not,” Elara said immediately, adjusting her grip on her books. “We agreed to be strangers.”

Rhys didn’t argue. He simply reached out and, with a swift, powerful movement, looped his arm through hers, pinning her elbow securely against his side. The unexpected contact—the firm pressure of his muscular arm against her soft, vulnerable skin—sent a jolt through her system.

“Let go of me, Rhys!”

“Quiet. Walk.” He began moving, steering her through the sea of students. His casual assumption of control was infuriating.

As they walked, Elara felt the immediate shift in the atmosphere. The background murmur of the hallway seemed to drop. Whispers replaced chatter. Every head turned.

The quiet new girl with the playboy Alpha?

Veronica’s face, when they passed her group, was a mask of cold, white fury. Her eyes weren't just fixed on Rhys; they were burning a hole through Elara.

Rhys squeezed her arm gently—a non-verbal confirmation that he was fully aware of the chaos he was causing.

“This is your plan for keeping me safe?” Elara hissed under her breath, trying to peel her arm away from his vice-like grip. “Making me the enemy of every girl in the entire building?”

“No,” he murmured, slowing his pace as they approached the Calculus room. He lowered his head, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin near her ear. “My plan is to put a clear, visible brand on you. I am publicly claiming you as mine. Anyone who touches what’s mine answers to me. It’s the only way you survive this ecosystem.”

He released her arm just as they stepped into the classroom, leaving her feeling dizzy and violated. He strode to the back, dropped his bag, and leaned against the window, watching her with proprietary intensity.

The professor, Mr. Harrison, a frail man who had long ago given up controlling the class, merely looked from Rhys to Elara and sighed.

Elara chose a desk in the very front row, as far from Rhys as possible. She kept her head down, desperately trying to focus on the complex notation of differential equations, but the back of her neck burned under his relentless stare.

The school day passed in a hazy state of hyper-awareness. Everywhere Elara went, she felt Rhys's presence, even when she didn't see him.

At lunch, she escaped to a quiet, forgotten corner of the library. She pulled out a dog-eared copy of Wuthering Heights, trying to lose herself in the drama of Heathcliff, but her own drama was far too loud.

A loud cough brought her crashing back to reality. It was Veronica, flanked by her two most loyal, mannequin-perfect friends, standing over her table.

“Well, well. The new girl,” Veronica purred, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “I heard you moved into Rhys Vance’s house.”

Elara gently closed her book. “My mother married his father. We’re step-siblings.”

Veronica’s mouth curved into a nasty smile. “Step-siblings. Such a cozy arrangement. You know, I've been dating Rhys off-and-on since freshman year. We have an understanding. And our understanding definitely doesn’t include some quiet little mouse pretending she’s going to be part of the family.”

One of Veronica’s friends leaned in. “You think you can play the long game, living under his roof? Try to sneak your way into his circle?”

“I don’t want to be in his circle, Veronica,” Elara stated plainly. “And I’m not playing any game. I want to pass my classes and have a normal, drama-free life. I suggest you take your concerns to Rhys.”

Veronica slammed her hand on the table, making the few nearby students jump. “He doesn’t care about you! He was showing you off today as a joke. He told Jason you were just a novelty. And I'm warning you now: Stay out of his way, or you will regret more than just your Calculus grade.”

Elara felt a sudden, fierce rush of heat—not of fear, but of anger. She hated being bullied, and she hated that Rhys had used her to make some kind of perverse social point.

“He also called me his mate,” Elara retorted, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.

Veronica froze, her perfect smile shattered. Her two minions exchanged confused glances.

“What?” Veronica whispered, her eyes narrowed in genuine confusion, laced with a flicker of something that looked like true fear.

“He growled at me and called me his mate,” Elara repeated, watching Veronica’s reaction closely. This wasn't the reaction of a jealous girlfriend; it was the reaction of someone who understood the word in the context of the dark, mythological stories she'd dismissed earlier.

Before Veronica could recover, a commanding voice filled the space behind her.

“Is there a problem here, Veronica?”

Rhys. He had materialized silently, his face an unreadable mask of cold displeasure. His sudden presence was like an electrical current, making Veronica visibly flinch.

Veronica, usually so poised and dominant, actually shrank under his gaze. “Rhys! No, darling, no problem. I was just introducing myself to Elara. Welcoming her to Crestwood.”

Rhys stepped past her, placing his hand protectively on the back of Elara’s chair. His fingers lingered, a silent, unmistakable reminder of his claim.

“I think she’s been welcomed enough,” Rhys said smoothly, his voice returning to its casual, yet authoritative, register. “We have an appointment. Go on, Veronica. Lunch is almost over.”

Veronica shot Elara one last look—a promise of retribution—and then fled with her friends, clearly terrified of crossing Rhys when he was in this mood.

Elara waited until they were completely gone before she rounded on him.

“An appointment? A joke? You show up just in time to save me from the fire you started? You know I heard you talking to Jason, calling me a novelty!”

Rhys leaned closer, his eyes serious now, all traces of the casual playboy gone. "I needed Jason and Veronica to believe it was a game. But when I saw Veronica cornering you, it stopped being a game." He pointed to the book she had been reading. "You told her I called you my mate. Why would you do that?"

"To scare her off!" Elara admitted, her voice trembling. "It was the only thing that seemed to actually shock her. She looked... terrified. Rhys, why did she react like that?"

He sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck. The casual gesture seemed to hold a world of stress.

"Because, Elara," he whispered, his eyes scanning the empty library tables, "Crestwood isn't just a high school. It's a place where families have been settling for generations. Families with history." He paused, his gaze locking on hers, his expression deadly serious. "You know those fantasy books you read? Werewolves? Alphas? Mates?"

Elara nodded, her mouth dry.

"They're not just stories here. My family is... different. We are one of the founding families of Crestwood. And 'Mate,' in my family, is a word that means forever. It means a biological, non-negotiable bond. It is a commitment that supersedes everything—even blood relation, even social acceptance."

He took her hand, his fingers hot and rough against hers. "When I saw you, Elara, the first time I saw you at the wedding, I knew. I felt the shift. It’s the kind of thing you can't fake, you can't ignore, and you certainly can't break. That growl? That was my true self, my Alpha self, reacting to my unexpected, inconvenient, and completely irresistible mate."

He released her hand, leaving her skin tingling. "Our parents getting married? That was just the universe finding a path to put us together. But if anyone in this town, especially anyone in my family, knew that I, Rhys Vance, the future Alpha of this territory, had found his mate in his new, human, step-sister... it would be a mess far worse than losing a few friends."

"Wait," Elara stammered, pulling her chair closer. "Alpha? Territory? Rhys, what are you talking about? Are you telling me that you, that your family..."

"I'm telling you that you just walked into a world you didn't know existed," Rhys interrupted, his voice dropping to an urgent plea. "The rules of this town are simple: Obey the Alpha. I am trying to protect you by making a public spectacle, creating distance, and confusing everyone, but if you fight me on this, if you expose the truth, you're not just messing up my life. You're risking everything."

He stood up, towering over her. "You are my mate. That is an inescapable fact. I will guard you. I will keep you safe. But you need to play the game with me, Elara. We are step-siblings who hate each other in public. That is the only way we both survive this."

Rhys turned and left the library, disappearing into the crowds. Elara sat alone, surrounded by silence, realizing that her simple, quiet life hadn't just become messy—it had become dangerously supernatural. She wasn't dealing with a high school playboy; she was dealing with a future pack leader, and she was the human, unexpected variable that threatened to destroy his kingdom.

The bell for the next class rang, but Elara didn't move. She stared at the spot where Rhys had been, the strange, possessive heat of his hand still imprinted on hers, the terrifying word Mate echoing in her soul.