Sired to the alpha

3

The rain hadn’t let up, and my legs felt like they were made of lead as I hurried down the slick sidewalk. My soaked jeans clung to my skin like a second, unwelcome layer, and the chill from the downpour seeped into my bones. The sooner I got home, the better.

But then, the inevitable happened.

My foot slid on a patch of wet leaves near the bookstore corner, and before I could catch myself, I hit the ground hard. My palms stung as they met the pavement, the impact jarring up my arms.

“Ow s**t ,” I hissed, sitting back and inspecting the damage.

Blood beaded on my left palm, the skin scraped raw and angry. I felt a sting at my knee too, though the rain was washing most of it away before I could see much. Great. Absolutely fantastic.

I sighed, pushing myself upright, trying not to wince at the way my wet clothes pulled against my skin. As I stood, I realized I wasn’t alone.

“Careful,” a low voice murmured behind me.

I spun around, heart jumping into my throat.

A guy stood a few feet away, half-shrouded in the shadow of the bookstore awning. He was tall, with sharp features that were striking even in the dim light. His dark hair was damp from the rain, and his eyes—were they gray? Blue?—seemed to pin me in place.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, his voice slow, almost deliberate, as his gaze flicked down to my hand.

“I—what?” I looked at my palm again, stupidly, as if I hadn’t already noticed. My cheeks burned despite the cold. “Oh. Yeah, I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

His head tilted slightly, studying me with an intensity that made me want to squirm. “Doesn’t look like nothing.”

I forced a laugh, trying to play it off, but it came out weak. “It’s just a scrape. I’ll survive.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stood there, his eyes never leaving mine. The silence stretched long enough to make my stomach twist.

“You should clean it,” he said finally, his tone calm but somehow firm, like he wasn’t giving me a choice.

I nodded quickly, clutching my bag tighter against me. “Yeah, I will. At home. Thanks for the concern, though.”

But he didn’t move. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence almost magnetic. I had to tilt my head back slightly to meet his gaze, and the flush in my cheeks deepened.

“You’re soaked,” he said, his voice quiet but not unkind. “And freezing.”

“Well, yeah,” I replied, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. “It’s pouring rain.”

He blinked slowly, his expression unreadable, like he was weighing his next words. “You shouldn’t walk home like this.”

My heart thudded painfully against my ribs. “I don’t really have a choice. It’s just a few blocks. I’ll be fine.”

He was quiet again, his eyes scanning my face like he was searching for something. It felt like an eternity before he spoke.

“Ryker,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

“What?” I blinked at him, confused.

“My name,” he clarified, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “In case you were wondering.”

“Oh.” My face burned even hotter. “Uh, nice to meet you, I guess? I’m—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his tone still maddeningly vague.

My eyebrows shot up. “You… know?”

He didn’t elaborate, just gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “You should get out of the rain.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the downpour like a shadow melting into the night.

I stood there for a long moment, staring after him, the rain soaking me even more as his words—and his strange, knowing smile—echoed in my mind.

Who the hell was Ryker?