Challenged An Alpha
1318 Words
Rebecca's Pov
Derek didn’t hesitate. He hauled me up by my elbows, his hands steady and warm against my damp skin. He didn’t care that he was getting grease and soot on his pressed guard uniform. He leaned in close, his voice a frantic whisper as he checked me over.
"You’re okay, dear. Just breathe," he said, before immediately dropping into a low, practiced bow. "Sorry, Sir. The hot oil... it caused a little explosion. It won't happen again."
I stood there, trembling, clutching the hem of my soaked dress. My knuckles were white. My heart was thudding against my ribs so hard I thought it would crack a bone.
Damian didn’t look at the burnt cabinets. He didn’t look at the fire suppression foam dripping from the ceiling. He looked at me, his eyes raking over my frame with a cold, clinical disgust that made me want to scream.
"Why exactly were you cooking?" he asked. His voice was like a slab of ice hitting the floor.
I swallowed hard, trying to find the voice, the mousy, broken one. "Madam Katherine... she asked me to cook, sir. She said I am the cook from now on."
Damian let out a sharp, dry laugh that had zero humor in it. He looked at me from head to toe, lingering on my messy hair and my red, soot-stained face. "Cook my foot. You can’t even do anything properly, Rebecca. Have you seen the way you folded my clothes? You are incompetent."
He turned on his heel, his cloak swirling behind him. "Come with me. Now."
I scurried after him, my legs feeling like jelly. As I passed Derek, I saw him signal with his hand, a small, encouraging thumb-up that said you can do it. It was the only bit of kindness in this hellhole, and I clung to it.
Damian was walking so fast I had to practically run to keep up. My heels were cheap, digging into the back of my ankles until I could feel the skin breaking, the raw sting of blisters forming with every step. He didn't slow down. He didn't check to see if I was still there. He treated me like a shadow he was trying to outrun.
Suddenly, he stopped. Just snapped to a halt in the middle of the dark hallway.
I was too close. I tried to shift my weight, tried to dig my heels into the carpet to avoid slamming into his broad back, but my balance was gone. I tripped over my own feet, my arms flailing for something anything to grab onto.
This was the part in those stupid romance novels where the hero turns around, catches you by the waist, and stares into your eyes while the world stops spinning.
But Damian wasn't a hero.
He didn't move a muscle. He didn't reach out. He didn't even flinch as I went down.
I hit the floor flat on my face. The sound of my body slamming into the hardwood was sickeningly loud in the empty hall. Pain exploded in my knees and my palms, and for a second, the breath was knocked completely out of me. I lay there, humiliated, the cold air of the hallway stinging my face.
Damian didn't offer a hand. He didn't even look concerned. He just stood over me, looking down at my crumpled form, and scoffed.
"Are your legs weak too?" he asked, his voice dripping with boredom. "Do you even eat at all, or are you just this clumsy by nature? Get up. I don't have all night to wait for you to lazy around."
I groaned, the sound muffled by the carpet. My knees felt like they had been hit with a hammer, but I forced myself up. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Not over a fall.
I followed him into his master suite, and my jaw nearly dropped.
The room was a disaster. Clothes were strewn across the velvet chairs, papers were scattered like confetti over the desk, and a half-empty bottle of Bourbon sat on the nightstand. It smelled like him heavy, dark, and lonely.
Damian turned to me, his hands on his hips. "Do you even know who a maid is, Rebecca? Look at this room. Look at my life. Are you sure you even want this job? Because so far, you are failing at every single task."
I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, forcing the meek Rebecca back to the surface. "I want the job, sir. I need it. I have to take care of my younger brother... our parents are late. I really have nobody else."
Damian’s laugh was a jagged, ugly sound. "Of course. The late parent's excuse. That’s the bullshit story everyone gives when they want a help. What, didn't your late mother teach you how to do basic house duties? Or was she as useless as you are?"
Something inside me snapped.
It wasn't a slow burn. It was an explosion. Ten years of suppressed rage, ten years of remembering my mother’s face turn pale as the life left her, ten years of mourning my family, Damian’s father had slaughtered it all came roaring up my throat.
"How dare you?" I hissed.
The room went deathly quiet.
I stepped forward, my fists clenched so tight my nails were drawing blood from my palms. The mask didn't just crack; it disintegrated. "How dare you talk about my parents that way? You don't know anything about them! You don't get to speak their names with your filthy mouth! How dare you!"
Damian’s face went completely blank. He was so shocked he actually stepped back, looking around the empty room as if he was searching for the person I was referring to. He looked at the shadows, then back at me, and slowly pointed a finger at his own chest.
"Did you..." his voice was low, dangerous, and utterly bewildered. "Did you just bark at me? A maid? Barking at her Boss in his own bedroom?"
I didn't back down. I stared him straight in those golden eyes, my chest heaving, the fury making me vibrate.
"I'm not barking," I whispered, my voice trembling with the effort not to kill him right then and there. "I am telling you to show some respect for the dead. Because some of us actually loved our families, even if you clearly didn't."
Damian’s eyes darkened until the gold was swallowed by black. The air in the room became heavy, the Alpha's pressure bearing down on me like a physical weight, trying to force me to my knees.
He took a slow step toward me, his scent, woodsmoke and cold rain filling my lungs until I couldn't breathe. He leaned down, his face inches from mine, his voice a vibrating growl that shook the very floorboards beneath us.
"You have a lot of nerve for a maid," he breathed, his hand reaching out to grip the back of my neck, his thumb pressing into the sensitive skin right where a mate's mark should be. "Maybe I should remind you exactly who owns you, Rebecca. Or maybe I should find that little brother of yours you are trying to feed."
He pulled me closer, his eyes dropping to my lips, and for a terrifying second, I didn't know if he was going to strangle me or kiss me.
"Damian!"
The door to the suite burst open. Katherine stood there, her face contorted in rage, her eyes landing on Damian’s hand on my neck.
"What is that thing doing in our bedroom?" she shrieked.
Damian didn't let go. He kept his eyes locked on mine, a slow, wicked smirk spreading across his face.
"She was just explaining her extra labor to me, Katherine," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "And I think... I think I've decided on her new punishment."
- Writer
