The Ugly Alpha Wants Me

Chapter 7 – New Rhythms

The morning sun streamed through Ayla's bedroom windows, casting everything in a warm golden glow. She stirred awake with the strangest feeling—like her heart was both completely at peace and ready to jump out of her chest at the same time. Her own words from last night kept playing on repeat in her head: "I'm not afraid of you."

Now, lying there in the soft morning light, she wondered if she'd been a little too brave for her own good. Not that she regretted saying it—God, no. She'd meant every single word. What made her stomach flip was the way Zephan had looked at her before he left. Like she'd just unlocked some door inside him that had been sealed shut for way too long.

A gentle knock interrupted her thoughts. "Excuse me, Miss Ayla?" Lyra's cheerful voice came from the hallway.

"Come in," Ayla called out, reaching for the thin robe draped over her chair as she got up.

Lyra walked in with a breakfast tray, wearing that warm smile that always made Ayla feel a little less alone in this massive castle. "Good morning! I hope you slept well?"

"Well enough," Ayla lied. Truth was, she'd spent half the night replaying every second of their conversation in the garden. "Lyra, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

Ayla bit her lip, not sure how to put her fears into words. "What if I'm not really the Luna everyone thinks I am? What if this whole prophecy thing is just... wrong?"

Lyra's eyes softened with understanding. "Only time will tell us that. But I'll tell you one thing I know for sure—the Alpha has started changing since you got here. He's still hurting, but there's something different about the way he carries all that pain."

Ayla didn't know what to say to that. Part of her felt this warm glow at the thought that she might actually be helping Zephan, even just a little bit.

"Lyra," she said slowly, "could you tell me more about this place? About what things were like before... before everything went wrong?"

A sad smile crossed Lyra's face. "I'd love to. But maybe it's better if I show you instead."

They spent the whole morning walking through the castle, with Lyra sharing story after story about the good old days. Each tale painted a clearer picture of what life used to be like here, but they also made this heavy feeling in Ayla's chest grow worse and worse.

By midday, the heat was brutal. Lyra led her to the castle library—this absolutely massive room with shelves that went up to the ceiling, packed with more books than Ayla had ever seen in one place.

"The Alpha spends a lot of time here," Lyra mentioned. "Maybe you'd like to read about our clan's history? Or the old prophecies about the true Luna?"

Ayla nodded, already mesmerized by the incredible collection. "I'd love that."

After Lyra left, Ayla started exploring the shelves. There were books about werewolf clan history, politics between different packs, ancient rituals, and even prophecies about the true Luna.

She pulled out this thick book called "History of the Umbra Clan" and took it over to a reading table by the window. The first few pages talked about the clan's founders, their territory, all their traditions and beliefs.

But what really caught her attention was the chapter called "The Luna Bond and Supernatural Powers." She read every word about how the connection between an Alpha and his Luna wasn't just about love—it was spiritual, something that gave both of them special abilities.

"When Alpha and true Luna unite, they share not only love, but the strength of souls. The Luna will possess the power to calm the Alpha's beast, while the Alpha will protect the Luna with strength beyond physical limits..."

Ayla's heart started racing. Did she really have the power to calm whatever beast was tearing Zephan apart from the inside? Was this what being the true Luna actually meant?

She kept reading until she found the section about Alpha curses. Turns out curses like Zephan's were rare, but they'd happened before. And in every single case that was recorded, there were only two ways it could end: either the Alpha would be healed by finding his true Luna, or the pain would keep getting worse until it killed him.

There was no in-between.

Ayla closed the book with shaking hands. Now she understood just how serious all of this was. This wasn't just about love or some sense of duty—this was literally about whether Zephan lived or died.

The sound of fighting outside made her look up. She stood and peered out the window, and what she saw made her gasp.

Down in this huge training courtyard, Zephan was practicing with his sword all by himself. But this wasn't normal practice—it looked like he was fighting for his life against enemies only he could see. His movements were vicious, full of rage, like he was trying to beat out all the pain and frustration he kept locked inside.

The sword flashed in the afternoon sun, and every swing looked deadly. Sweat was pouring down his body, but he didn't slow down. If anything, he got more intense, more brutal.

Ayla could see this was how Zephan dealt with his daytime pain—by turning it into rage and beating the hell out of himself with training. But there was something disturbing about the way he moved, something that told her this wasn't just about getting stronger.

He was punishing himself.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Ayla found herself leaving the library and heading toward the training ground. She stopped right at the edge, unable to make herself go in but unable to force herself to leave either.

Zephan hadn't noticed her yet. He kept moving with this breathtaking speed and power, each sword stroke cutting through the air with a terrifying whoosh. His iron mask was soaked with sweat, his breathing harsh and ragged.

Then, in one overly aggressive move, Zephan lost his balance just for a second. Not much, just barely, but it was enough to make his sword slip and slice a gash across his own arm.

Blood dripped onto the ground.

"Zephan!" The cry tore out of her before she could stop it.

The Alpha froze like he'd been struck by lightning. Slowly, so slowly, he turned to look at her. His red eyes went wide with surprise and... was that shame?

"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice rough from exhaustion.

"You're hurt," Ayla said, completely ignoring his warning as she stepped into the training area.

"It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Ayla stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "You're bleeding!"

"It's just a scratch," Zephan put down his sword and tried to hide his wounded arm behind his back. "You should go back inside."

"No," Ayla said firmly. "Let me see that cut."

"Ayla—"

"I'm not leaving until you let me help," she interrupted, using a tone that meant business.

Zephan looked at her with eyes full of conflict. She could practically see the war going on inside him—part of him wanted to accept help, but another part was so used to suffering alone that he didn't know how to let anyone in.

"Why?" he finally asked.

The question hit Ayla harder than she expected. Why did she care so much? Why did watching Zephan hurt feel like someone was ripping her heart in half?

"Because..." Ayla searched for the right words, "because nobody should have to hurt alone. Especially not you."

Something shifted in Zephan's eyes. That wall he'd built so carefully around himself started to c***k again, just like it had last night in the garden.

With hesitant movements, he held out his wounded arm.

Ayla approached slowly, like she was afraid any sudden movement would make him bolt again. When she got close enough to see the wound properly, she realized it was way deeper than she'd thought.

"This needs to be taken care of," she said gently.

"I'll be fine. Werewolves heal faster than humans."

"That's not a reason to ignore it," Ayla replied. She tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of her dress and carefully started cleaning the blood away from the cut.

The gentle touch of her hands on his skin made Zephan go rigid. Not from pain, but because it had been so damn long since anyone had touched him with genuine care.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Ayla asked softly while she kept working on cleaning his wound.

"What do you mean?"

"Training like that. That wasn't normal practice. You were hurting yourself on purpose."

Zephan stayed quiet for a long moment, staring off into the distance.

"Physical pain from training," he finally said in a voice barely above a whisper, "is easier to handle than the other kind."

Ayla stopped cleaning his wound and looked up at his face. There was so much hidden agony behind that iron mask, so much suffering he'd never let anyone see.

"You don't have to hurt alone," she whispered.

"I'm used to it."

"That doesn't make it okay."

They stood there in silence while Ayla kept tending to his wound with a gentleness that almost brought tears to his eyes. How long had it been since someone actually cared if he was injured? How long since someone touched him not because they had to, but because they genuinely wanted to help?

"Ayla," Zephan said in a voice so quiet she almost missed it.

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you run? After everything you've heard about me, about my curse, about... about what I've done?"

Ayla finished wrapping his wound before she answered. When she looked up and met his eyes, there was a sincerity that made him feel completely exposed.

"Because I see who you really are," she said with absolute conviction. "Not the curse, not the past, not all that pain. I see a man who still cares about other people even while he's suffering. I see a leader who's willing to sacrifice his own happiness to protect everyone else. I see someone who deserves to be loved."

Those last words slipped out before Ayla even realized she was saying them, and suddenly the air between them felt electric.

Zephan stared at her with eyes full of emotions he couldn't even name. Hope, fear, longing, and something even deeper than all of that.

"You don't know what you're saying," he whispered, but there was no strength behind the words.

"Maybe not," Ayla admitted. "But I know what I feel. And I'm not going to change my mind."

For a moment, Zephan looked like he was about to say something that would change everything. His lips parted slightly, his red eyes studying her face with an intensity that made her feel like she was on fire.

But then the sound of heavy footsteps shattered the moment completely.