Hated By The Alpha, Forced To Be His Mate

CHAPTER 2

HAZEL BLACKVALE

I stand still, staring at the closed door for a few seconds, trying to understand what just happened here.

He almost kissed me.

I sigh and turn my head, noticing that the closet door is open.

I enter, and my eyes are immediately drawn to something hanging in the center, protected by a transparent cover.

It’s a white dress.

Beautiful.

Delicate.

And completely wrong.

None of this feels real.

I open the cover and touch the fabric with my fingers. It’s soft, but all I feel is a knot in my throat.

I leave the dress there and walk to the bathroom.

I take a long, hot shower, and when I come out, wrapped in a towel, my eyes meet my reflection in the mirror.

On my left shoulder is the mark of our curse.

Luke has the same one, etched into his skin, a cruel reminder that no matter how much we hate each other… we are bound.

I take a deep breath, put on a simple nightgown I found in the full closet, and lie down, trying to sleep.

I am seven years old again.

Today is a beautiful day.

I’m running, holding my favorite doll, laughing to myself… until I trip on a root.

I fall to the ground, my knee scraping the dirt.

I cry, feeling the pain in my leg.

Suddenly, I hear hurried footsteps.

It’s Luke. Small, but already with that determined look.

He kneels beside me and gently holds my arm.

“Don’t cry, Hazel. I’m here.”

He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. I cry, hugging him, feeling safe in the warmth of that childish embrace.

But the sound of heavy footsteps approaches.

It’s my father. His voice is impatient.

“What happened? Why are you crying so much?”

Before I can answer, Luke stands and shouts back, his voice firm even though he’s just a child:

“Don’t talk to her like that! She got hurt!”

My father stares at me but doesn’t respond.

I cry even harder.

Luke holds my hand and pulls me away, running with me to my house. We climb the stairs and enter my room.

Inside, he opens the wardrobe door and pulls me in, closing it behind us.

“You’re safe with me, Hazel.”

He hugs me tightly, and in that moment, I love him. My Luke. The one who protected me from everything.

When I wake from the dream, I am crying.

My hand is on my shoulder, and the mark is burning. The pain is so intense that I fall to my knees on the floor, gasping.

The burning spreads across my chest, and I know what it means: we don’t have much time.

With difficulty, I get up, trying to understand where another sound is coming from.

It’s low, muffled… a moan.

I follow the corridor until I stop in front of a door. It’s his room.

I open it slowly and see Luke sleeping, his face tense, his hand pressed against his shoulder. He feels it too.

I approach and say, tears in my eyes:

“You felt it too, didn’t you?”

He seems to murmur something, but when he opens his eyes, his expression turns to pure irritation.

“Get out of my room before I make you leave by force.”

“Luke…”

He sits up on the bed abruptly, anger evident.

“Go to your room, Hazel! Don’t look at me like that, as if you pity me! We both carry this curse! Control those tears and get out!”

“When did you stop being my Luke who protected me… and become so cold?”

He stares at me but doesn’t answer.

His eyes glimmer for a moment, as if something inside him wants to react, but he just turns his face away.

I feel the weight of disappointment, and anger takes over. I turn and leave, slamming the door behind me.

As I walk down the empty corridor, I realize that the pain in my shoulder… is nothing compared to what I feel in my heart.

I go back to sleep.

I wake up early the next day, ready for the ritual, wearing the dress Luke had prepared.

I walk among the people, holding the bouquet of flowers, seeing men and women from both packs here.

In the center, waiting for me, is Luke.

To follow the ancient tradition, his chest is bare, covered in tattoos and symbols painted with ink.

He doesn’t smile, but he looks at me seriously.

“It’s time.”

The master of his pack begins the ritual.

Luke steps forward and holds my hand.

“I, Luke of the Moon Blood Pack, accept you, Hazel of the Black Rose Pack, as my true mate. I promise to protect you with my life, honor you with my blood, and give my life for yours, if necessary.”

He takes a ritual dagger with a short blade and cuts his own wrist, letting the blood flow slowly.

Then, he places the dagger in my hand.

“Your turn.”

I take a deep breath and make a firm cut on my wrist.

I let the drops of my blood fall into the chalice, as he did.

“I, Hazel of the Black Rose Pack, accept you, Luke of the Moon Blood Pack, as my true mate. I promise to protect you with my life, honor you with my blood, and give my life for yours, if necessary.”

We drink together, not breaking eye contact.

“The ritual is complete.”

At that instant, I feel the mark on my shoulder hurt again.

I grit my teeth, swallowing a moan. Luke’s gaze hardens as well, as if he feels the same pain. Now there’s no turning back: we are mates.

When the Master signals for the final kiss, I freeze. My heart races uncontrollably.

“Calm down.” He murmurs, sarcastically. “I don’t bite.”

The urge to punch him is immediate.

“Idiot.” I murmur, but before I can pull back, he pulls me in.

The kiss is intense, too long, as if he wants to imprint every second in my memory.

I hate enjoying it. His taste, his warmth, his strength… everything makes me want to give in, and that annoys me deeply.

The Master gestures for the last part of the ritual.

Luke pulls down the strap of my dress and tilts his head.

My body tenses, nervous, but I don’t move away.

Then, he bites hard on my shoulder, right over the mark.

It hurts, but I don’t pull back.

He steps back, lips stained with blood. I’m his now. Or maybe I always was.

The packs celebrate, howls and shouts of victory echoing through the forest, but I feel no happiness. All that exists is a void in my chest.

When the ritual ends, I return alone to the room.

I sit on the bed, trying to breathe, when I hear the door open.

Luke enters.

“It’s done. You don’t have to see me anymore,” I say.

“The wedding hasn’t been consummated yet.”

I turn suddenly, eyes filled with anger.

“You think that after humiliating me, I’ll still go to bed with you?”

He approaches, slow steps, like a predator. I feel the tears burn, but I don’t let him see them fall.

“Stay away from me. Don’t you dare come near me again, Luke.”

He looks at me for a moment and then, without saying anything else, turns his back and leaves the room angrily, the door slamming shut behind him.

I am his now, and nothing can change that.

I can’t sleep.

I lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Tears soaking the pillow without stopping.

I try to swallow my sobs, but it’s useless. The feeling of being trapped, of having nowhere to run, is suffocating.

I stand up, confused, hearing a sound.

I press my forehead against the bedroom door, listening to something breaking downstairs.

Another sound of shattering glass.

Then, a scream — it’s him. Luke.

My entire body tenses, but I don’t leave the room.

I clutch my knees, trying to ignore the sounds.

More screams, a heavy thud, more glass breaking.

And then… silence.

My heart starts racing.

What if he does something stupid? What if he’s hurt?

Before I realize it, I open the door and run down the corridor.