BITE ME, MY ALPHA

Lyra’s Pov None of us knew yet that our father's silence about the King was the kind that gets you killed. My back screamed with every pull of the yam from the dirt, but it was Sophia's silence beside me that worried me more than my own aching spine. "You know, I wish life was different," she finally said, sighing in sadness. Her eyes filled with pity for our present life status. I dropped my basket filled with harvested yam. I wiped my palms on my skirt and looked out over the rows that never seemed to end. "I wish so too. That maybe one day we could leave this wretched village." "What are you girls doing, sitting around and talking?" The old man who paid us to harvest his farm crops stood over us, arms folded, his shadow falling across the rows. "You will get no pay if you keep talking and not working." We hurriedly stood up, dusted off our shirts, and went back to pulling yams from the dirt. My hands had long since gone rough from this kind of work, calloused in places that used to be blistering. Sophia's hadn't, not yet. She was younger, and I made sure she never carried more than her share. I looked over at her as she bent back to the row beside mine, her small shoulders already tired from a full day's labor. I wished I could give her something better than this. A family of ten, living off whatever petty jobs the village had to offer, and never quite enough to show for it. We finished the last row just as the light started to fade, and the old man counted out our pay into our palms, a handful of coins that felt lighter every week, though the work never did. It wasn't much. But it was better than nothing, and nothing was always the alternative we feared most. "Kids, quit running around, can you?" Mother's voice reached us before we even stepped through the door. "Oh my goodness, why did I decide to have so many kids?" "Well, you can ask that again, Mother," I said, walking over to greet her. Our home was a simple cottage, with an old, abandoned barn leaning against its side like it had given up trying to stand on its own. "How was work?" she asked, brushing the dirt from my sleeve. "Isn't this cute," Sophia said, arms crossed. "We both walked in, and Mum only saw you." Mother laughed, and so did I, the sound loosening something tight in my chest that had been there since the fields. "Come here, my darlings. You know I love you both, I love you all equally. And that's why I made porridge." She lifted the lid of the pot, and the steam rose between us. "Not again." Sophia stomped her foot against the floor, her face twisting in disgust. "I don't want that for dinner." "You'll eat what we can afford," Mother snapped, her finger pointed at Sophia, her voice climbing with a frustration that had clearly been building all day, not just tonight. "I hate this house. I hate this family. I hate my life." Sophia stormed off, slamming the door behind her hard enough to rattle the frame. Mother's eyes filled instantly. Her hand found the edge of the table, and she sank down into the nearest chair like her legs had simply stopped holding her. I knelt beside her and took her hands in mine. "I'm sorry for how Sophia acted." "Don't be sorry." She shook her head, wiping at her face before the tears could fall further. "We are at fault. Why did we have so many children without the means to provide for them?" Her hands trembled in mine. I wiped the last of the tears from her cheek. "I'll speak to Sophia. I think she's just overwhelmed from working all day, just like the rest of us." The barn was dusty and cold, winter already settling into every corner of it. I found Sophia curled up in the far corner, knees pulled to her chest, her back to the door. "You know you shouldn't have spoken to her that way," I said, walking slowly toward her. "She's your mother. She deserves that respect, at least." Silence stretched out between us before she finally spoke. She picked at a loose thread on her sleeve without looking up. "I didn't mean to snap like that. I just know this place isn't for me, Lyra. We're so poor we eat the same meal every single day." Tears welled in her eyes, though she turned her face away so I wouldn't see them fall. "I promise you," I said, wrapping my arms around her from behind, "one day things are going to change. Maybe not right away. But soon." She turned into my arms and hugged me tightly. "I pray you never get married, so you can stay with me forever." "Sophia!" I laughed despite myself. She laughed even harder at my reaction. "Fine, if you ever do get married and leave, you're taking me with you." "I love you, little sister," I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You still have to apologize to Mum, though. And promise her you won't act that way again." "I will. I promise." She hugged me tighter, and I squeezed the air out of her playfully until her laughter filled the whole barn. The table was set, steam rising off the porridge, when Father walked through the door. A chorus of small voices greeted him at once, too many names to count over each other. "Welcome home, love." Mother pressed a kiss to his cheek. "How did it go?" she asked, worry already written across her face. "Still the same." His face wasn't lined with age so much as worry, deep grooves carved by years of trying and failing to get ahead. "I couldn't get money for the farm, and I couldn't find any work either." Mother pulled out his chair. He peeled off his shirt as he sat, revealing a chest too thin, too poorly fed for a man his age. "Don't worry," she said softly. "A job will turn up." She rested a hand on his shoulder. "I hope so," he answered, though nothing in his voice believed it. He stared down at his plate and didn't meet her eyes. Mother served his plate, and he'd only just taken his first bite when a heavy knock rattled the door. Three men stood outside. Tall, broad, built in a way that made the doorway look small around them. Their eyes moved slowly over the room before they'd even stepped inside, not searching, just cataloguing, like they already knew exactly what they'd find and were only confirming it. My father went pale. Sweat broke out along his hairline almost instantly, his hands trembling as he wiped his palms against his trousers before reaching for the door. The men stepped inside without waiting to be invited. "We were sent by the King to collect," the first one said. "I already explained everything to the last men who came," Father said, his voice too fast, too eager. "I just need more time." "You always need more time." The second man stepped forward. "That's what you said the last time too." I looked at my father. Sophia and I had both stopped eating, our eyes fixed between him and the men. Mother's hands had gone white around the edge of the table. "I don't have..." Father didn't get to finish. The second man's hand closed around his throat, slamming him back against the wall. Mother dropped to her knees, begging them to spare him. The younger children screamed. I stood in front of them, their small hands fisting into the back of my dress as I stepped forward. "Please, don't kill my husband," Mother sobbed. "Please spare my father," I added, my voice shaking harder than I wanted it to. The man released him. Father collapsed forward, coughing, gasping for air that seemed to burn on the way in. "I'll pay you," he rasped. "When I have the money, I swear it." "And when exactly will that be?" one of them cut in, unimpressed. "The King has made his proposal," the first man said, stepping closer, his shadow swallowing the little light in the room. "You bring the money in seven days. Or we come back for your daughter, whichever one has been chosen to work in the King's house instead." The third man's fist drove into Father's stomach, and he crumpled to the floor, gasping. "You should be grateful," the first man said quietly, watching him fall. "Most men who owe the King don't get seven days at all."