Alphas Human captive mate

Monsters aren't born; they’re crafted with scars. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” The honey-dripped words fell off his sick mouth, but his eyes gave him away. Predatory. Starved. And a f*****g Shifter. Elyra stared at him nervously shifting on her toes. She should answer him. Her training commanded her to respond. The words she rehearsed earlier were reeling in her head, slowly making it onto her tongue. “Elyra,” she whispered. Meek. Soft. Exactly as they wanted her to sound. Like a good little pet. Her insides churned as the man, probably in his late thirties, chuckled. His grin widened. “Pretty name,” His hooded eyes scanned her from head to toe lustfully. Taking in her form. Petite, curvy, small, and pretty. Licking his lips, he cupped her jaw and made her face him. She flinched at the unavoidable vulgarity in them. “You’ll look good begging for it.” Her stomach stirred, but she stood silent, eyes lowering to the cement floor as she unconsciously counted the lines of the pattern. Speaking out of turn wasn’t allowed. Reacting wasn’t safe. The first rule of survival in her world was simple: never let them know what you’re feeling. Never let them know what you’re thinking. With a clenched jaw, she felt his hands purposefully brushing her arm, as if feeling her skin’s softness. Elyra flinched instinctively, though she quickly masked it. He was her first buyer. And she didn’t know if he knew what was going on in her head. Her hands tightened on the small needle in her hand and she took a deep breath. This never-ending cycle of anguish was going to end today, or her. With a pulse thrumming in her ears, she played the part they carved for her. Like a perfect little toy. He extended his hand to her. She stared. Contemplated piercing his skimpy skin with the needle laced with wolfsbane. The idea was tempting, too inviting, but she knew better. Be still. Be silent. Watch. Wait. Patience. She had to be. If she wanted to escape this hellhole for good. Not only this monster of a man, but every other sleuth that prowled in the corners of this nightmare. Monsters didn’t travel alone, and she wasn’t naive enough to believe that one act of rebellion would crumble the entire fortress because of their brutality. No, it would take more. With a heavy heart, she placed her hand in his. The monster grinned, moving his hand to her slender wrist, purposely sliding it to her elbow before pulling her against his chest. Elyra bit back in disgust. Her insides screamed for her to hurt him, to make him feel the same pain she was feeling, to kill him and every other shifter on the goddamn planet. But patience was bitter, and its fruit sweet. “Good girl,” he murmured. She stumbled slightly, letting the movement mask her reflexive tightening of the needle in her other hand. He didn’t notice. Of course, he didn’t. Men like him never saw what they didn’t think to fear. “I’ll take care of you,” he promised. The lie slid off his tongue with skilful ease. He had whispered such lies to several girls like her. To Mira, to her sister, and to her friend. His lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Elyra didn’t respond. She couldn’t trust her voice not to betray her. Instead, she let her eyes fall to the ground, her lashes shielding the quiet storm brewing beneath them. One moment could change everything. He led her toward the bed and his grip on her elbow tightened like a chain she pretended not to feel. Her thumb brushed the needle again as he roughly pushed her down on the bouncy bed. Elyra swallowed hard. She wouldn’t let him take her for the first time. She couldn’t fight them all she knew. But she could wait. She could take one down. Because patience wasn’t just enduring suffering. Patience was survival. And Elyra intended to survive. No matter what. The man licked his lips and removed the wrinkled shirt before towering over her. His fingers tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his eyes. They gleamed with nothing but hunger. Predators never look like monsters. They look like men. She tried to suppress the bile rising in her throat, but it tasted bitter against her teeth. “You’re such a fine woman, Elyra,” His lips curled into a smug grin as he hooked his finger in the strap of her nightgown and pulled it down, exposing her slender arms. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. I’ll be gentle.” Liar. The word screamed inside her skull, but she swallowed it down, locking it in the iron cage of her mind. She forced herself to nod, just enough to appease him. The world around her blurred as her focus sharpened on his chest, where the rhythmic beat of his heart seemed almost taunting. One thrust. That's all it would take. A fraction of a second to end this nightmare—or die trying. "You'll learn to enjoy this," he slowly slid the other strap down and his eyes darkened further. "They all do." She clung to the small needle. Her grip tightened. She couldn't afford to think too hard about what came next. Hesitation would kill her faster than his hands ever could. You are not the weak girl they think you are. Even the smallest spark can set the world ablaze. “Turn around,” he ordered, and Elyra’s body obeyed, but her mind screamed. Her hands trembled—no, steadied—as she clutched the needle. No one is coming for you. No one ever has. You save yourself, or you don’t get saved. The bed creaked under his weight as he shifted. She heard the rustle of fabric and felt the heat of his breath closer now. He leaned in, and his fingers brushed her hair aside, exposing the back of her neck. “Beautiful,” he whispered, almost reverent. She shut her eyes. His hand cupped her tender breasts. She counted. He fumbled with her underwear. With a sharp intake of breath, she spun around, raised her hand and aimed for the flesh of his throat. The look of surprise in his eyes was sweeter than anything she had ever known. He reached for her, but she was faster, desperation fueling her. The needle plunged into his neck. Deep. A choked sound escaped him as he stumbled back, hand flying to the wound, blood bubbling through his fingers. And she mounted him and pulled the needle out before plunging it in again. “You—” he gasped. She didn’t bother to fix her dress and just stared at him with her hands bloodied and eyes dull. She stepped forward, watching him crumple with a small tilt of her head. “Pretty name, right?” ******** She slid behind the wheel, slamming the door and clicking the lock. The engine roared to life; for one moment, she felt she had control. But control was an illusion, wasn't it? Her hands clutched the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles were white. The car tore out of the driveway, the tyres screeching against the pavement. She didn't know where she was going. She needed to get far, far away. Away from everything and everyone. They had claimed everything city, every government, every inch of this godforsaken world. Humans like her were prey. Abducted, forced, beaten and sold to please higher-rank shifters. Just like the one she killed. Her chest ached, and her mind ran through the last two months on repeat. She was walking home from her part-time job when it happened. A van pulled up beside her. It screeched to a stop. Rough hands. A sack was pulled over her head. Then darkness. She woke up in a cage. Arms were bruised, and her voice was hoarse from screaming. The days were a blur, a nightmare of beatings, starvation, and cruel training. They wanted her submissive, obedient, and ready to be sold to the highest bidder. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly. If it weren't for that needle, one she found during one of her 'training' sessions, she wouldn't be alive today. The tip was coated with Wolfsbane. A deadly poison for shifters -one rarely accessible. One stab would have weakened them, two could kill. She hadn't planned to use it so soon, but desperation had its own timetable. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened as tears blurred her vision. She wiped them away furiously. This wasn't the time to cry. She couldn't afford weakness now. Her eyes drifted to the rearview mirror again and again, hoping no one was following her. She had nowhere to go. They knew where she lived. And she couldn't risk going back and endangering her family. It revolted her. The packs controlled everything and always watched over the humans. She required some remote place where she would disappear. Her mind strayed to her family. She thought of her mother's warm smile and her father's booming laugh. Did they think she was dead? Were they still searching for her? Or had they given up, like so many others in this new world where humans were disposable? The memories stabbed at her, but she pushed them back. Memories wouldn't save her. She turned onto a dirt road, her hands quivering as exhaustion and adrenaline warred inside her. She would drive until she could no longer keep her eyes open. Then she would decide what to do. Elyra's eyes were burning heavily with fatigue, but she couldn't stop. The dirt road wound its way through the darkness. Her hands on the wheel were slick with sweat, and the only sound in the oppressive stillness was the hum of the SUV's engine. She blinked hard, replaying pieces of the nightmare she'd escaped: the beatings, the cage, the dead, hollow eyes of other girls like her. And now, the blood on her hands. Her stomach turned, but she pushed down on it. Survival was all that mattered. The road dipped and she corrected the steering. Then it happened. A figure stepped out into the beam of her headlights. Her heart stopped. It was too fast—too sudden. Something tall, massive, and eerily fluid. Was it a man? An animal? Her foot instinctively slammed the brake, but it was too late. The SUV hit the figure, the stomach-dropping crunch echoing through the vehicle as the windshield cracked from the impact. Elyra screamed as the car slid off the road, the tyres kicking up dirt before it slammed into a tree. Time moved in slow motion and her head snapped forward, the seatbelt biting her into the chest, as she felt her head collide with the steering wheel. For a moment, everything stilled out. Elyra gasped for air and her chest felt heaving. Her trembling fingers fumbled with the seatbelt, her pulse hammering in her ears. She forced the door open and stumbled out, her knees buckling as she hit the cold, hard ground. Her eyes darted toward the road. The figure lay crumpled in the dirt, illuminated by the flickering headlights. Her breaths came in shallow bursts as she crawled closer, the metallic taste of fear coating her tongue. It wasn't an animal. It wasn't entirely a man, either. The body was massive, its limbs unnaturally long and muscular. Dark fur shimmered under the fractured light, but the face… the face was unmistakably human. A shifter. "Oh God," she breathed, backing away. She raised a shaking hand to her lips, bile rising to fill her mouth. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She didn’t even see him until it was too late. The shifter's chest rose softly as if he was struggling to breathe. Blood was seeping into the dirt beneath him and spreading around his lifeless form. His eyes fluttered open, glowing like gold and locked onto hers. For a moment, time froze. Her heart lurched as the shifter's head lolled to the side and his body went limp. Panic gripped her. She stumbled backwards, her mind screaming at her to get back in the car and drive. But the front of the SUV was crumpled, steam hissing from under the hood. She couldn't stay here. But she couldn't leave either. The dead shifter in front of her proved that her nightmare hadn't ended. It had just begun.