Claimed By The Alpha Twin

The Morning After

Chapter 9: The Morning After

Maya

The exasperating morning sun slipped past my lashes, warm and unrelenting. I groaned in displeasure and turned over, grabbing the heavy duvet and pulling it over my face like a shield against the world.

"Why is it so bright?" I mumbled, my voice hoarse and thick with sleep.

There was no answer.

I groaned again and rolled deeper into the bedding, burying myself completely. "Urgh. Who opened the windows? Close the window..."

Still nothing.

"Is that you, Caleb?"

Silence.

"Alpha Ian?"

Nothing.

"Caleb..."

"Caleb—"

A deep, cool voice cut through the haze like a blade. "Are you having another wet dream or hallucinating? Which one is it?"

My eyes snapped open. That was Lucas's voice.

I turned over too quickly and immediately regretted it. A sharp ache spread through my body—muscles sore in places I didn't expect, my head pounding, and a strange, unfamiliar tenderness between my thighs that made heat rush to my face.

He raised an eyebrow, standing near the window, and I felt like I was under inspection. Like he could see every scattered, broken, messy part of me in one single glance.

I tried to speak, but instead I found myself staring. For some reason, I couldn't stop. His dark hair was slightly tousled from sleep, his sculpted jaw sharp in the morning light. Lucas stood near the window adjusting the cuff of his crisp white dress shirt like he belonged in a luxury magazine. The top buttons were undone, casually revealing the carved line of his chest.

The universe definitely had a favorite. Even the sunlight seemed infatuated, casting a golden glow across his skin like it couldn't resist touching him.

I knew Lucas was handsome. I knew he had a nice body. But… I never realized he looked this good in the morning light.

He was—God. He was beautiful.

He turned back to his cuff, tightening it with cool indifference. "Are you just going to stare at me all morning?"

"Huh? I mean—n—" I fumbled, blinking stupidly as heat rushed to my face.

And then it hit me like a bucket of ice water.

Why was Lucas in my room?

I looked around, my pulse suddenly pounding in my ears. The armchair in the corner. The towel on the floor. The dark, masculine decor that screamed power and control.

The room was wrong. It felt wrong.

These weren't my walls. This wasn't my ceiling. The sheets beneath me were dark and heavy, not the soft cream ones I had chosen. The air smelled different—clean soap, citrus, and something warm, deeply masculine.

I glanced down and felt every drop of blood rush to my face.

My boobs!

The dark blanket had slipped low, exposing far more skin than I was ready to share. I was practically naked. I gasped and yanked the duvet up to my chin, clutching it tightly to my chest with trembling hands.

Why was I naked!? Completely, utterly naked in front of Lucas! My skin was bare, my body exposed, and I had no clear memory of how I got here.

No—that wasn't entirely true.

The pieces clicked together in a horrifying rush. This wasn't my room.

I had fragments. Whiskey at the bar. Pouring my heart out to a stranger. Tom driving me home. Stumbling up the stairs. A door. A bed.

"Lucas?" My voice came out hoarse and thin.

He didn't answer immediately.

"Lucas, what happened? Why am I in your room? Why am I—" I gestured wildly under the blanket, my face burning with shame and confusion. "What did you do to me?"

He finally turned slowly and looked at me directly. For a second, it was as if I was speaking a foreign language. He reached for a sleek watch on the nightstand and slipped it onto his wrist with calm precision.

I stared at him, confused, embarrassed, and growing angry. Had he lost his mind? Why was he ignoring me? He didn't even seem bothered, like I was a child throwing a tantrum. It was like he couldn't hear me—like I wasn't even worth his time.

What the hell actually happened? I clenched my fists at my sides as I wracked my brain.

I remembered catching Caleb and Kate in bed. The image still burned in my mind.

I remembered feeling heartbroken, then leaving the house. Going to the bar, drinking too much, ranting to the bartender, then calling Tom, entering a room, and then… nothing.

I had no memory of entering Lucas's room. No memory of being with him.

I looked up at him again, my heart thudding too fast, my stomach twisted into painful knots. "Why aren't you saying anything?" I demanded, my voice rising. "Why am I in your room, Lucas?"

He still didn't answer, which only made me feel more stupid and confused.

I swallowed hard, preparing myself for the ridiculous question I was about to ask. "Did you… did you drag me to your room against my will?"

I paused when he remained silent. My voice rose with panic. "Don't tell me you… you…"

Finally, he paused and turned his head fully toward me. The coldness in his gaze sent chills down my spine. He stared at me in a way I couldn't quite name. His expression was unreadable, his posture calm, one hand tucked into his pocket.

"What kind of game are you playing, Maya?" he asked quietly.

"What?"

"I don't like repeating myself. What kind of game are you playing with me, Maya?"

"What?" I repeated, genuinely confused. Had he gone insane?

He closed his eyes for a second and sighed. "Do you think I'd pay any attention to you if you acted like this? You think I'll be charmed by this tantrum? I have things to do, Maya. I have a long schedule. I'm a busy man. I hate childish behavior. And what's this? Playing innocent? Pretending now? Acting shocked?"

What was he saying? What was he talking about? I was actually shocked.

"What?" I said, still lost. "I don't—that's not what I—"

"If you can't handle alcohol, then don't drink." He cut me off. "I'm not really bothered by it because I'm used to your tantrums. But," he continued, his tone sharpening, "I can't stand women who act like that."

"Like what?" I asked, my voice rising with frustration and hurt.

"Like you." His voice was flat, calm, and unbothered. Like he hadn't just insulted me.

"Like me? What did I do?" I asked, my confusion turning to hurt.

"You crawled your way into my bed, desperate for attention. I played along because I wanted you, but don't mistake that for affection."

My stomach dropped. My heart raced in disbelief. I couldn't breathe.

He took a step closer. "But then I realized you were intoxicated and mistook me for Caleb while having a dream. I stopped before things could escalate further."

Something in his jaw ticked. His voice dropped, almost like he was talking more to himself than to me. "Do you have any idea how hard that was?"

His words hit like a slap. What the hell was he saying? I never did any of those things. Did I? Did I really come to Lucas naked? What the actual hell?

"And now you're standing there acting like some innocent, pitiful woman I took advantage of. Is that boldness or stupidity? I can't really tell. Your first mistake was trying to sleep with me while drunk. I don't touch intoxicated women."

My head was spinning. A rush of embarrassment and humiliation washed over me. My cheeks burned hotter than ever. This was the first time in a long while Lucas had faced me and spoken to me this much, and it didn't feel good. If anything, it made me feel stupid and pathetic.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What was I even supposed to say?

Without another glance in my direction, he moved to the chair and picked up his jacket, slipping it on with effortless grace. He straightened the lapels and said flatly, "I'll let this slide. For now. But stay away from me."

He was already halfway to the door when he stopped, hand on the handle. He didn't look back.

"Get dressed," he said calmly before walking out and shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

I sat there, wrapped tightly in the sheet, feeling like I had just been gut-punched. I stared at the closed door for what felt like forever until the ache in my chest finally snapped.

"Oh my God!" I screamed into the empty room. "That was so embarrassing!"

I buried my face in my hands as my legs shook. My chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. I hated Lucas's arrogance, his calm demeanor, the way he looked at me with expressions I could never name. His composure. Everything!

Why does he have to be so complicated!

Fine. I'd stay away from him too and forget whatever happened. It's not like I remembered anything clearly anyway, and it's not like I needed him.