The Biker Alpha’s Hated Mate

Chapter 6

Aveline

I sat curled in the corner of the too-soft bed, the fading sunlight slicing through the window blinds like prison bars. My fingers dug into the sheets, trying to anchor myself as my thoughts ran in circles.

My life was over.

There was no other way to describe it.

I had been hunted for a decade, stripped of family, safety, and any semblance of peace. And now, in a cruel twist of fate, I was shackled to the very monster who’d spent those ten years dreaming of my death.

Matteo Cruz Valentino.

The Biker Alpha. El Lobo. My mate.

I clenched my jaw as the memory of that kiss burned behind my eyes. It had been fire and ice, chaos and control. He didn’t kiss me like someone fulfilling a bond. He kissed me like someone trying to punish me—with tongue, teeth, and fury.

I could still feel his hands in my hair. Still taste the bitterness of his hate.

And now I was supposed to what? Stand next to him while he pretended to claim me in some twisted mating ceremony?

The knock on the door startled me.

It creaked open, and a girl—slim, nervy, and no older than twenty—stepped inside hesitantly. Her eyes avoided mine.

“Alpha Matteo sent me,” she said quietly. “I’m here to get you ready… for the ceremony.”

I stared at her. “You can tell him I’m not interested in being paraded like a possession.”

She flinched, fingers twisting in the hem of her apron. “Please, miss… if you don’t cooperate, he’ll punish me. I’ve… I’ve seen what happens when someone fails his command.”

Her voice cracked at the end. She wasn’t faking. I could feel the fear rolling off her in waves.

And I hated him for putting me in this position. Again.

I sighed and stood up. “Fine. But I’m doing this for you. Not for him.”

Relief flooded her expression, and she nodded quickly. “Thank you. I’m Mila.”

“Aveline,” I muttered.

She led me to an adjoining room with a vanity and a silk dress already laid out—blood red, as if mocking my so-called purity.

As Mila brushed and curled my hair with surprisingly gentle hands, we talked. She told me she was a born omega, orphaned at a young age, and raised in Bloodshade by older omegas. She had no family left. No protection. No voice.

And yet, despite everything, she spoke to me softly. Kindly. Without judgment.

“I’ve never seen him bring a woman here,” she admitted after a long pause. “Let alone call for a ceremony.”

I scoffed. “This isn’t love, Mila. It’s punishment.”

She looked at me in the mirror and whispered, “Then maybe we both need to survive it. Together.”

Something in my chest cracked at that.

When we were finished, she helped me into the dress, her hands shaking only a little. I turned and hugged her tightly. She stiffened—then hugged me back like she hadn’t been touched in years.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “I won’t forget this.”

The ceremony was held outside, beneath the glowing full moon. Wolves stood in neat, hushed rows around a bonfire shaped in the Bloodshade emblem. Smoke curled into the trees. Music thudded low in the background.

And there he was—Matteo.

Standing at the altar in a black shirt rolled at the sleeves, tattoos on full display, his expression carved from stone. His presence dominated the clearing.

I forced my feet to move toward him.

Whispers followed me like shadows, but I kept my head high.

I stopped in front of him, and the officiant began speaking.

“Tonight, under the moon, we witness the bond of Alpha and mate…”

He turned to Matteo first.

“Alpha, do you accept your mate?”

Matteo’s lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. It was a warning.

“I accept,” he said darkly, “to bind her with my name, my scent, and my rank. Not with love. Not with mercy. She will carry my mark—but not my heart.”

There were quiet gasps. My spine locked.

The officiant turned to me, faltering slightly. “And you, Aveline Carrington, do you accept your Alpha?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yes,” I said, voice steady. “I accept.”

Because I had no other choice.

The afterparty was a blur of firelight, clinking glasses, and too many eyes. I stood like a mannequin near the long table while Matteo vanished like smoke.

I searched the crowd. No Matteo.

I finally slipped away from the attention and followed the path he’d taken.

I found him in a quiet hallway, halfway to the East Wing, pacing.

“Matteo,” I called.

He turned. “Go back.”

“No. You don’t get to say what you did up there and walk away like it meant nothing.”

He growled low in his throat. “Aveline—”

“I want to know why. Why vow hate in front of your entire pack?”

“Because it’s the truth,” he snapped. “I didn’t choose this. You’re in my head. You’re everywhere. And I want it to stop!”

I stepped forward. “Then reject me.”

“I can’t!” he roared, and before I could react, he was on me again—his hands fisting in my hair, lips crashing down on mine with fury and fire.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a war.

I gasped, tried to pull away, but he grabbed me tighter.

“You’re in my blood,” he growled against my mouth. “And I need to get you out.”

He hoisted me into his arms and carried me, storming through the hall like a man possessed.

He threw open the door to his room and dropped me onto the bed. My heart thundered.

He yanked my dress down in one motion, then stilled—hovering above me, breathing raggedly.

I should’ve screamed. I should’ve fought. But I didn’t.

I just stared at him, heartbroken and breathless.

His hands skimmed over my shoulder, down to my waist, his mouth following like fire tracing skin. Then he bit—hard—into the space between my neck and shoulder.

Pain flared. Heat rushed in.

The mark was done.

He had claimed me.

But he didn’t go further.

He pulled back suddenly, disgust burning in his eyes. “That’s all you get.”

“What…?” I whispered.

He backed away. “You’re mine. But I’ll never give you what you crave. No pleasure. No love. You’ll live in this bond, starved and unwanted.”

He turned toward the door.

“You may sleep here tonight,” he said without looking back, “but it’s the first and last time.”

And then he was gone.

Leaving me marked. Undone. And completely shattered.

I lay there, frozen.

The room was dark except for the sliver of moonlight crawling across the floor. My breath came in shallow bursts, my shoulder throbbing from the mark—his mark. My fingers trembled as I touched the wound, already healing over with that strange warmth that came from a bond sealed by fate… and forged in torment.

I had been claimed, but not wanted.

Marked, but never mated.

And somehow, that hollow rejection carved deeper than any knife.

I blinked hard, refusing to cry. Not now. Not again.

But the pain wasn’t just emotional—it was physical. The bond flared and tugged, craving closeness. My wolf whimpered in confusion, pacing restlessly in the dark corners of my mind. She didn’t understand why he marked us but left us empty.

I don’t understand either, I thought bitterly.

Maybe that was the point.

Maybe Matteo didn’t want to kill me anymore.

He wanted me to rot from the inside out—to starve on the very thing my soul now needed to survive.

I curled into the sheets, not because they were warm, but because it was all I had.

And somewhere deep inside, I knew:

This was only the beginning.