My Omega Secret Lover is Alpha King!

Chapter 5: Who Is He?

Chapter 5: Who Is He?

(Aria's POV)

"Aria," his voice rang out, sharp and demanding.

I paused with one foot on the staircase, my hand gripping the smooth wooden banister as I turned to look at him. His words hung heavy in the air, like a stone tossed into still waters.

Alexander stood at the end of the hallway, his steel-blue eyes locked onto mine. He was tense, arms crossed over his broad chest, his whole posture radiating frustration mixed with an undercurrent of something darker.

He sniffed the air deliberately, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. "There’s a new scent on you," he said, his tone accusatory, like I was a criminal caught in the act. "It’s… unfamiliar." His gaze bore into me now. "Want to explain that?"

I tilted my head, letting a small, amused smile tug at my lips. "Why should I explain myself?" I replied calmly, keeping my voice light. "Do you really think I owe you that much?"

His eyes narrowed, his Alpha aura flickering again—weak as it was beneath the suppression potion. I could feel his wolf stirring, restless beneath his surface.

"I’m not playing with you, Aria." His voice dropped lower, each word clipped. "You’re carrying the scent of another male. Someone familiar. Someone who clearly isn’t me. Who is it?"

I couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped me, soft yet mocking. "Oh, this is rich—coming from you." I stepped closer, the silk of my dress brushing against my legs. "Tell me, Alexander… where was all this possessiveness when you were with Sarah?"

His expression twisted then, his jaw tightening. "Don’t bring her into this," he snapped.

"Why not?" I countered smoothly. "It’s the truth. You spent three years parading around Europe with her, mating with her, building your perfect little family without a care in the world for me. But the second I so much as smell like another man—"

"You’re deflecting," he interrupted, his tone dark, practically a growl.

"Am I?" I raised a brow and shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe I am. Or maybe," I stepped closer, the smirk on my lips curling wider, "you just don’t have a leg to stand on."

Alexander’s fists clenched at his sides. I didn’t miss the way his breathing quickened, the way his wolf bristled beneath the surface. He was trying to hold onto what little control he had, but I could see it slipping.

"Who is he?" he demanded again, stepping towards me. His voice was harsher now, tinged with something raw and primal.

The absolute hypocrisy of his words sent a wave of bitter amusement through me. "Oh, you’re so concerned, aren’t you?" I said mockingly. "Does it really bother you that much, Alexander? Or is it just your ego talking?"

His lip curled slightly, the edge of a growl rumbling low from his throat. "Careful, Aria," he warned, his voice dropping even lower.

I laughed, soft and cold. "Careful of what? Your empty threats? Your weak Alpha aura?" I took another step forward, locking eyes with him. "You really don’t see it, do you? You’re pathetic, Alexander. Always have been."

His eyes flared with anger, his wolf’s presence surging briefly before the suppression potion forced it back down. "I’m warning you—"

But I cut him off with a slight tilt of my head and a mocking smile. "And I’m done listening to your warnings." My voice softened, almost teasing. "Oh, wait—wouldn’t you rather hear it from him?"

His brows furrowed in confusion for a moment before I closed my eyes briefly, crafting the illusion I needed.

"Night Dancer," I murmured softly, crafting the mind-link conversation as if it were real. "You’re pushing your luck calling me now. My mate’s jealousy is pathetic, but exhausting."

His nostrils flared again, his posture going even stiffer.

"What are you so impatient for?" I continued, the teasing laced in every word. "Missing me already? Honestly, you sound desperate."

"Stop this," Alexander hissed, his tone low and dangerous.

But I wasn’t finished. I tilted my head just slightly, adding an amused laugh to the illusion. "You know, if you keep acting so possessive, I might start to think you’re serious about me. Such a shame, really."

His fists trembled at his sides now, his wolf clawing desperately to break through.

"It’s fake," he growled, his voice rough. "You’re making it up."

My eyes fluttered open, my smirk widening as I shrugged. "Believe what you want," I said lightly. "It doesn’t change anything."

I turned then, brushing past him, my fingers brushing his sleeve briefly. "You’ve clearly made your priorities clear, Alexander. Don’t act surprised when I decide to make mine."

I didn’t look back.

Later that evening, we shared the same quarters, but it felt more like a battleground than a room.

I stayed on the bed, of course. It was mine, after all, and I saw no reason to give it up. Alexander had taken to lying stiffly on the floor, his body tense as though the hard wood beneath him would break at any moment.

Silence filled the space, broken only by the faint shifting of his breathing. But I wasn’t done. Not yet.

I let out a soft sigh, releasing calming pheromones into the air. They were subtle—barely noticeable—but I knew how they affected wolves. It would leave his wolf restless, unable to truly sleep, his body unable to settle into full relaxation.

The hours dragged on. The moonlight shifted across the room, and I could hear his breathing change—he wasn’t resting. Not truly.

By the time dawn broke, he looked it. His face was pale, dark shadows under his eyes betraying just how little rest he’d had. His wolf radiated irritation, but the exhaustion dulled it into something useless.

"Good morning," I said lightly as I slipped out of bed, stretching lazily. "Rough night?"

Alexander didn’t reply. He only shot me a sharp glare, his steel-blue eyes filled with simmering frustration.

I smiled to myself as I left for my duties at the broadcasting station.

It wasn’t just a hobby—the broadcasting stations were pillars in the werewolf community. They reached across territories, spreading news, culture, and even political updates crucial to inter-pack dynamics.

The Storm Pack’s studio was thriving largely because of me. Not just my efforts to manage the daily broadcasting but also my contributions as a healer.

Packs across the region tuned in daily to hear not only news but segments dedicated to health advice and mental well-being for wolves dealing with issues like exhausted mates and fraying bonds.

It was my show that brought prestige to our station.

When I returned to the pack house that afternoon, I was exhausted but determined. Balancing my role as a healer and broadcaster left me little time for anything else, but I refused to let that stop me.

I’d dressed carefully today, knowing the significance of the evening’s event. It was the future Alpha King's grandmother's 70th moon blessing ceremony.

It was important for our pack to get the future Alpha King's permission for Silver Lake Territory.

The ceremonial dress clung to me like a second skin, the intricate symbols along the fabric shining faintly under the sunlight as I walked.

Alexander was waiting by the stairs when I entered. His eyes landed on me immediately, and for a brief moment, I caught the slight flicker in his expression.

He looked at me as if seeing something—someone—he hadn’t noticed in years.

"What do you think?" I asked casually, turning slightly to let the fabric catch the light. "Impressive, isn’t it?"

His expression hardened immediately, his steel-blue gaze turning cold and distant once more. "You could parade around in stardust, and I still wouldn’t care," he muttered.

"Liar," I murmured softly, just loud enough for him to hear.

He stiffened slightly, but said nothing as he led me to the waiting vehicle.

The Blackthorn Estate was as grand as its reputation suggested. Towers reached high into the sky, closer to the moon than any place I’d ever seen. Even the ground beneath our feet seemed alive, each step carrying the faint glow of ancient moonstones embedded within.

Inside, the atmosphere was even more intense. Power radiated from the walls, each artifact and heirloom telling a story of strength and legacy.

We were led to our table—number ninety-nine. It was a blatant insult, placing us so far from the center of power. A reminder of our current standing.

The Betas from other packs were already whispering, their eyes darting to us now and then.

One Beta, older and sharper than the rest, stopped by our table briefly. His smile was casual, but his eyes held a calculating edge.

"Ah, Aria," he said, addressing me directly. "Isn't that your mother over there?"

His words made the air still, his voice seeming louder even amidst the background murmurs and distant music.

I didn’t move at first, the question catching me off guard. My chest tightened as my eyes unwillingly followed the direction of his gesture.

And then I saw her.

Luna Catherine of the Silverbrook Pack, my so-called mother, stood in the center of the grand hall, her grace and stoic beauty unmistakable even in a gathering full of influential wolves. But it wasn’t her that shook me.

It was who stood beside her.

Diana.

Draped in a gown of intricate silver embroidery and adorned in familial jewels once promised to me, Diana exuded an aura of gentle regality.

Her long silver hair cascaded down her back, catching the light like moonlight over frost.

My stomach churned as I registered how effortlessly she fit into the role I’d been cast out of.

Luna Catherine’s hand rested lightly on Diana’s shoulder, a gesture that should have been simple yet struck me like a physical blow. The softness in her expression as she gazed at her true daughter radiated warmth, love, and pride.

In that moment, there wasn’t an ounce of pain or regret in her features. No sadness over the daughter she had raised for eighteen years, only joy for the one she had reclaimed.

She didn’t even glance my way.

Not once.

It was as if I were nothing more than a distant memory—something insignificant, meant to be forgotten.

My chest tightened further, a pang of aching heat spreading inward from somewhere deep and raw.

I hated it.