Contract Marriage To Alpha Elias: An Omega’s Fate

Rowan's POV "You look just like him." The words stopped me in my tracks; they went straight into my chest like a sharp object that knew just where to hurt. I forgot how to breathe for a moment as my fingers stayed curled around the door handle while the room behind me felt too big and too quiet. I had heard those words my whole life, sometimes in whispers and sometimes with mean laughs, from pack members who believed a face could replace a soul. But hearing them now, from the Alpha who would soon be my husband, made them even more heavier than before. I slowly turned around, forcing my shoulders to stay straight even though my heart was beating fast. I knew from experience that bending over made people think you were already broken. Alpha Elias Thornwood stood near the table, tall and still, filling the room with his presence like the forest fills the night, and when his old-gold eyes lifted to mine, I knew right away that he wasn't seeing me, but the ghost standing behind my face. “I know,” I said quietly, my voice steady because I had practiced this moment a thousand times in my head. “Everyone tells me that.” He did not apologize or look away, and that hurt more than anything else because it told me this was not a mistake but a truth he had already accepted. The room smelled like pine, smoke, and Alpha power. It was thick and warm against my skin, pressing down until my chest hurt. My own scent stayed small and weak, as it always did when I didn't want to be seen. Elias took one step closer, then another, each movement slow and controlled, and I could feel his wolf watching me closely, as though testing how close it could come before I broke. “I'm sure you understand why this marriage is happening,” he said, his voice calm and even, not a question but a statement carved in stone. “Yes, Alpha,” I replied, then corrected myself before he could speak. “Yes. My father is sick, and the treatment costs more than I could ever earn. This contract is the only means to save his life.” Saying it out loud made it real, and for a split second, my vision blurred as I pictured my father lying pale and still in a white room, counting on me to be strong when he couldn't be. Elias studied my face then, his gaze lingering too long on my eyes, my mouth, my hair, like he was trying to figure out how closely I matched a memory he couldn't let go of, and my chest ached with the quiet knowledge that no matter what I did, I would never be able to beat the dead. “This marriage will last for three years,” he said at last, sliding a thin stack of papers across the table. “You will be my wife in name and duty. Of course there will be rules, and you will follow them.” I stepped closer, the papers trembling slightly beneath my fingers, and forced myself to meet his eyes even though it felt like I was in the middle of a storm. “I will not ask for your love,” I said, choosing my words with care because this was the line that mattered most. “And I will not pretend to be someone I am not.” Something tight moved across his face so quickly that I almost missed it. Then, his look became smooth again. “Good,” he said quietly. “That makes things easier.” My name was already written at the bottom of the contract, neat and final, as if my choice had been made long before I entered the room, and when I picked up the pen, my hand shook despite my effort to stay calm. I signed anyway, because love could wait but my father could not, and the moment the ink dried, the air shifted so sharply that I staggered, suddenly wrapped in Elias’s scent as if the room itself had bent to his will. He saw right away, and his eyes got darker as he reached out and grabbed my arm, his grip firm but not cruel, heat spreading through my skin in a way that made my breath hitch even though I was scared. “Stand straight,” he said in a low voice that settled deep in my bones. “My wife does not bow.” The word wife echoed through me, strange and heavy, and when his thumb carelessly touched my skin, my scent stirred in answer, sharp and sudden, filling the space between us. Elias froze. For the first time, his control cracked, his jaw tightening as his wolf surged close to the surface, and the tension in the room turned sharp enough to cut. "Control yourself," he said in a low voice, but I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or to himself. Then he took a step back, like that would fix what had already started. That night, I moved into the Alpha’s den, the place was so large and quiet. I felt like it was watching me, every wall was thick with Elias’s scent while there was no trace of my own anywhere. The servants bowed but did not smile, some looking at me with pity and others with open dislike, and I followed Elias through long halls without saying a word, because I already knew that this wasn't a home but a cage dressed in gold. The bedroom was wide and cold with one massive bed waiting in the center like a promise and a threat at the same time, and I stopped at the doorway, unsure where I was meant to stand in a space that did not belong to me. “You will sleep here,” Elias said from behind me, his voice steady. “The door will not be locked. This is not a prison.” I thought he was trying to reassure me, but his tone made me think he was also trying to convince himself. Though we were far apart when we laid down, I kept looking up at the ceiling and telling myself that this was only temporary and that three years was not forever, even as his smell wrapped around me like a quiet claim. Sleep came in fragments, heavy and restless. At some point in the dark, Elias turned in his sleep and pulled me close, his arm heavy around my waist, his breath warm against my neck, slow at first, then quicker as if even in sleep his wolf had caught something it couldn't ignore. My own scent replied with a faint but sharp smell, rising between us like a spark in dry tinder. Elias stiffened. His grip got tighter and tighter, fingers digging into my hip. He let out a low growl, raw and hungry. His face pressed more into the curve of my neck, his nose brushing skin, inhaling deep as though he couldn't stop himself. My heart hit my ribs hard, and I froze. Heat rushed through me, unwanted and electric and my body responded before my mind could warn me of the danger. Then, he opened his eyes. His gold eyes flared in the dark, widely open. We stared at each other for a split second, his mouth just inches from mine, our breath mixing and the air between us sparking like it was about to catch fire. He moved closer. His lips were just an inch away from mine, close enough that I felt the tremor in his exhale, the battle inside him between control and desire. His hand slid up, cupping the back of my neck—firm and possessive, trembling just enough to show how close he was to losing it. "Rowan—" His voice was rough and needy, barely above a whisper. "—why the hell does your scent make me want to claim you right now?!"