The Alpha's Abandoned Mate

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Elena

"Elena, take this wine up to the VIP suite on the third floor."

I was wiping down the bar when Maggie's voice made me pause. "Third floor?"

"Yeah, the VIP suite." Maggie leaned in, lowering her voice. "Big shot tonight. Werewolf nobility. You know the drill—"

"I know." I cut her off, tossing the rag into the sink. "Drop off the wine and get out, right?"

Maggie's expression turned complicated. She glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "Just be careful. Two girls got fired in the past few months for pissing off clients. And..." She hesitated. "I heard another girl in East City got hurt."

My fingers tightened. "I'll be careful."

"Go on." Maggie sighed, handing me the tray. "Don't keep them waiting."

I picked up the tray and took a deep breath.

Three bottles of aged red wine sat there—probably worth six months of my rent.

As I headed upstairs, I caught a whiff of the fragrance blend I'd applied that morning—lavender and sandalwood.

One of my best formulas. Clean, not too sharp, perfect for masking the smell of alcohol and grease after a long shift.

I checked how well the scent was holding up. Good news—still strong.

Making fragrance was my side business. I'd always had a freakishly good sense of smell and could pick up nuances others missed.

Before Dad died, he said it was a gift. Told me to use it well.

He was a quiet human man who raised me alone.

Never talked about my mother. Didn't even keep a photo.

Only sometimes, when he was feverish or drunk, he'd mumble her name.

But I could never make it out. All I knew was that whenever Dad mentioned her, his face twisted in pain.

My mother didn't want us. She despised us.

Because of what Dad said, I started mixing my own blends. Turned out pretty well. I could pinpoint exactly what people wanted—the scent, the feeling. I took small orders online. Between that and the hotel job, I was almost done saving for college tuition.

Just a few more months. Then I could leave this hellhole.

The third-floor hallway had thick red carpet, oil paintings on the walls, crystal chandeliers casting dim yellow light.

Every step I took, my shoes sank into the plush floor with soft sounds.

I'd never been up here before. Usually Susan handled VIP deliveries—until a few months ago when one of the drunk werewolves dragged her inside...

I shook my head. Didn't want to think about that.

The VIP suite was at the end of the hall. I stopped at the door, smoothed down my wrinkled uniform skirt, and knocked softly.

No response.

I waited a few seconds and knocked again. "Sir? Your wine is here."

Still nothing.

I bit my lip. Protocol said if the guest didn't answer, I should leave. But Maggie's warning echoed in my head—"Don't keep them waiting."

Screw it. Drop off the wine and go.

I took a deep breath and gently pushed the door open.

The room was huge. More opulent than the hallway. Dark leather sofas, a hardwood coffee table, expensive-looking paintings on the walls. Amber wall sconces bathed everything in intimate light.

Someone was lying on the sofa.

I froze.

A man. Wearing a tailored black shirt, buttons undone, exposing a solid chest. The shirt was soaked with sweat, clinging to him, outlining lean, powerful muscles.

One arm draped over his forehead, short black hair messy, his face flushed an unhealthy red.

Even though his face was tilted up, I could make out his striking features.

My heart started racing. My face heated.

I felt like a middle choler about to confess.

Was he... sick?

"Sir?" I ventured, setting the tray gently on the coffee table. "Are you okay?"

"Get out."

He suddenly growled, voice low, clearly suppressing pain. He didn't even open his eyes.

"I'm sorry." I immediately stepped back. "The wine's here. If you need anything—"

Before I could finish, he suddenly looked down, eyes locking on me.

My breath stopped.

He was beautiful. Rare among werewolves. Supernatural creatures—vampires, elves—were born gorgeous to lure humans. Werewolves conquered with strength, not looks. But him—he looked like the sculptures I'd seen in art class. My face burned hotter.

Those eyes watching me were deep gray, but now tinged with an unnatural red, pupils dilated, whites shot through with blood. His gaze was strange—confused at first, then suddenly focused, then something I couldn't understand. Shock.

His nostrils flared violently.

"You..." He sat up from the sofa, movements unstable, like it took all his strength. "What is that... smell on you..."

I took another step back, pulse quickening. "It's fragrance, sir. Lavender and sandalwood. If you don't like it, I can—"

"No." He cut me off, voice hoarse and terrible. "Not that... underneath... there's something else..."

He suddenly stood. His tall frame seemed especially oppressive in the dim light. He came toward me, stumbling but purposeful.

"What the hell are you?" He grabbed me, lowered his head, and practically buried his face in the crook of my neck. I could feel his scorching breath on my skin, feel him inhaling deeply, like he wanted to breathe in every trace of my scent.

In that instant, I caught his scent.

Amber. And cedar.

Like they'd erupted from somewhere deep. My hands started shaking. A strange current ran down my spine, into my belly, into the inside of my thighs, turning fear into excitement.

My knees went weak. Heat flooded through my body, wetness coming without warning.

A voice echoed in my head, low and burning, like it was seeping from my bones.

Mine. Mine.

I didn't know what it was. Didn't know where the voice came from. But it was like a key, unlocking some switch in my body, like I'd been waiting too long and he'd finally arrived.

I cupped his face and kissed him hard.

Elena, what are you doing?

Every nerve, every cell screamed. I just pulled his neck closer and shoved away that last rational question. I clumsily pried at his teeth, then suddenly sucked his tongue, jumping into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. He instinctively caught me, fingers digging into my ass.

"You—" He panted low. "Fuck."

His hands started tearing at my clothes, mouth fumbling over my body. I'd never been touched by a man like this. I'd always kept my distance. Until now. The feel of his lips gave me goosebumps.

"Hmm!" I trembled. My uniform skirt slid up. I brushed against him, and it seemed to snap his last thread of control. He suddenly kissed me.

It was rough, clumsy, more like a beast tearing. His tongue forced my teeth apart, invaded my mouth, claimed every inch, making me drool. I wanted to bite him, but his hand grabbed my jaw, keeping my teeth from closing.

A strange heat suddenly spread from where he had touched. It felt like... electric currents surging through my veins, like every cell in my body had suddenly come alive. My heartbeat accelerated, breathing rapid, some unfamiliar craving waking deep in my belly.

He pressed me onto the sofa, hands braced on either side of me.

"Look at you..." He finally released my lips, those eyes glowing gold fixed on me, mouth quirking in a knowing smile. His hand slipped under my skirt, pressing through my underwear against that soft place never touched before.

"Already wet here."

Shame crashed over me like a tsunami. His fingers rubbed back and forth through the thin fabric. Every touch made my body tremble uncontrollably. Heat flooded out, soaking my underwear, soaking his fingertips.

"You're mine," he murmured, biting my earlobe, hot breath on my ear. "You're waiting for me."

He was right.

"Say my name." His fingers yanked my underwear aside, touching wetness directly. "Say it... Lucifer."

His fingertip pressed on a sensitive spot. My body jolted like I'd been shocked.

"Fucking remember this," his voice hoarse and terrible, whispering in my ear. "Remember who made you this wet. Remember whose fingers are inside you. Remember this feeling. Because you're mine... only mine..."

Mine, mine.

That voice still echoed in my head, mingling with his breathing.

He tore open my shirt. Buttons scattered everywhere, exposing my cheap cotton bra.

My legs were already open, waiting for him. But his words at this moment made my feverish body even more restless. What was he waiting for? I deliberately clenched around his finger. He grunted. I sat up and bit his ear.

"Fuck." His movements paused, a flash of struggle in his eyes, quickly drowned by lust. His finger thrust deep inside.

My eyes widened. I fell back hard on the sofa.

His suppressed breathing filled my ears.

"No wonder it's so tight. You've never been fucked by another man, have you?

Huh?" His degrading words teased my nerves.

I couldn't help grinning, clenching tighter in provocation.

"What, you can't handle it?"

The pleasure made me moan. Provoked by my words, he bit down on the peak of my breast through the bra, sucking hard in retaliation.

"Ah!" I screamed. Pain mixed with tingling pleasure shot from my chest straight to my head. My nipple hardened under his licking and biting. I grew wetter below.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and burning. My chest heaved, nipples aching from his mouth. I could feel how soaked I was, how desperately I wanted more.

"Well, go on, asshole," I whispered, the words spilling out raw and urgent. "You can't stop now!"

Something in him snapped. His eyes flashed with a hunger that made my stomach flip. He'd been holding back—holding back all this time—and the realization hit me like a spark to dry tinder.

"Damn it," he growled, voice low and rough.