Alpha Andrew's Human Mate

Chapter 1

(Martha's POV)

I closed from my job as a waitress at a high-end restaurant called the Silver's Restaurant in Sun City, and I dashed out to the main road to hail a taxi.

The rain poured down heavily as I flagged a taxi and hopped into the back seat. I gave the driver my father's home address and reclined in the back seat.

It was Friday evening, and I knew I would face my stepmother and stepsister's bullying when I got home.

Upon arriving at the housing estate where my father's white house was situated, the taxi stopped. I paid the driver before climbing out.

I dashed through the magnificent black gate; the security guard was on leave, so I made my way into the white mansion.

When I pressed the doorbell, my stepmother, Sandra Roger—a tall, slender, fair-skinned 45-year-old woman—pulled the door open. She wore a dazzling blue nightgown and a pair of black slippers.

Thunder struck as she shut the door behind me.

"Good evening, Mom," I greeted her, seeing the clock read 8 p.m.

"Martha, why are you home so early?" Sandra asked, reprimanding me. I moved toward the grand stairs to go upstairs to my room.

Looking at her frowning face, I asked, "What sort of question is that? This is my father's house, and I can return home whenever I like."

"Oh sure," Sandra replied with a smile and sat back. I knew she disliked me and was only pretending to love my family. But after her marriage to my father, she treated me poorly until he died two years ago. I had to live with Sandra because my father's will stated he gave the whole house to me, while Sandra and her daughter, Elena, stole the company.

Ignoring my stepmother, I rushed upstairs to my room to change out of my wet clothes. But as I neared the door, intense groaning and moaning froze me in place.

"Ah, Mark! Fụck!" I heard Elena's voice, crying as the man rode her to ecstasy.

My fist clenched at how Elena moaned like a lunatic. Couldn't she take her boyfriend to a hotel? Why bring him here, to our father's house? Couldn't she have a little respect for our late father?

I wanted to ignore Elena—I was four years older than her, at twenty-four to her twenty. But then I heard Elena cry again, "Fụck me, Mark!"

I froze.

Who was Mark? Was he my fiancé, Mark Elliott?

I wanted to ignore them, thinking there were many Marks—no fụcking way Mark Elliott would be the man with my shameless sister. But then I heard Elena say, "Mark, do you enjoy having s*x with Martha like you do with me?"

"Fụck it, Elena. Martha has a dry pụssy, and I don't enjoy anything. She's too skinny and lacks the plump boobs and soft ass like you."

"What?" My fist clenched as I spun around to face Elena's room door, and I heard her continue.

"Awn... I'm glad I'm different. How about your engagement to Martha? Aren't you going to call it off? You can't marry her over me," Elena purred as Mark drove her. The sounds of his moans echoed in the corridor as her pụssy made that squelching noise.

"Don't worry. I'm only marrying Martha to take over your father's company. Don't forget that your mother stated that your father left everything in Martha's name, except she deceived Martha into thinking your father left only the house for her."

"What?" I gasped, the blood draining from my face as I heard their discussion.

I couldn't bring myself to unlock the door and face them. Elena's door was slightly open. I spun around to leave the house, only to see my stepmother standing in the corridor with a pestle in her hands.

"Martha, your time is up. You can't take everything away from my daughter and me," Sandra said, raising the pestle to smash it on me. I dodged her attack and pushed her to the ground.

"Ahhh!" Sandra gasped as she landed on her buttọcks.

After hearing that Sandra had changed my father's will to suit her preference, I jumped on her and smacked her multiple times in the face.

"Martha, how dare you?" Sandra shrieked, and Elena's room door flung open. Elena and Mark shamelessly darted out of her room nàked, looking stunned to see Sandra on the ground after I had smacked her ten times for changing my father's will.

Who knows if Sandra had a hand in my father's mysterious death two years ago?

"Martha, how dare you lay your filthy hands on my mother?" Elena growled at me, but I glared at her in disgust.

"You shameless slut. Riding my ex, and you think you'll be better than me or get my inheritance? Only in your dreams." I spun around and left the house, knowing I couldn't stay there with them.

Before I left the corridor, Mark called out to me, "Martha, you can't leave this city. Know that our marriage has already been scheduled, and whether you like it or not, you must marry me!"

"Only in your dreams. I will never marry an ásshole and cheap dog like you!" I cursed at Mark before I left the corridor.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I made my way outside the duplex my father owned. The house used to be peaceful until my dad married that evil witch.

Clenching my fist, I hurried out of the house, leaving everything behind. I'll be back for them. I made my way to the road to get a cab.

The rain poured down heavily as I found a taxi.

"To Dennis Hotel," I said, as it was getting late. I had nowhere to go. My relatives lost interest in me after my mother's death. They blamed me for her death, as they preferred I should have died in her place instead of her having me as her baby. She died during labor.

Wiping the sobs from my cheeks, I looked out the window. The money I had could barely sustain me.

When the taxi arrived at the hotel, I got out, paid the driver, and made my way into the hotel.

Dennis Hotel was a popular brothel in town, and I wanted to spend the night there to get back at Mark and forget the cruel words he said about me.

When I entered the hotel lobby, the receptionist peered at me and frowned.

"Hey, miss. What are you doing here all soaked?" she asked, and I drew a deep breath.

"I want a night with any available man. How much will I be paid?"

"Haha!" The two receptionists laughed at my broken state.

"You're too skinny to attract any client. So go out and look for another hotel or brothel to satisfy your fantasy," they dismissed me. But I was clearly determined to show them I'm not one to give up easily.

If I don't get the money to have my stepmother arrested, then I'll be the one at a loss.

"I'm serious, and I'm not leaving this brothel. Please," I said, stripping off my wet blue dress, the one I had worn to work that morning.

"Hey! What are you doing?" The receptionist growled at me as she walked out from behind her desk.

"Let her go!" A deep voice startled me, and I turned to see who it was.

A group of five men in black walked into the hotel lobby. The one who spoke had golden-colored eyes that sent chills down my spine. I had never seen a human with that eye color before.

"Welcome, sir. We're just trying to keep our hotel a conducive environment. What do you want?" The female receptionist in a white and black short skirt—the one who wanted to chase me out—asked the tall, formidable man who walked in to meet us.