The Night I Met The Alpha

The familiar scent of bleach and damp stone clung to the air, a constant companion in the laundry room deep beneath Alpha Matthias's grand manor. My muscles ached, a dull throb in every limb, as I dumped another load of the Alpha's endless laundry into the tub.

My hands, raw despite the quality soap, dug into the threads, the exertion tearing at my skin. It was always me, never the others, always laundry duty. A sudden grasp at my waist, fingers digging into my ribs, stole the air from my lungs. I yelped, whirling around, only to come face to face with Matthias, his crooked grin a familiar, unsettling sight.

“You scared me,” I muttered, pushing at his chest, leaving a wet, soapy handprint on his lavish grey shirt.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He leaned back, unfolding a towel I'd just meticulously folded, wiping his front down. “You shouldn’t be down here.”

I took the towel, wincing as the pain in my sores flared. Matthias, my Alpha, my boss, was rarely this brazen in public. Our affair was a well-kept secret, hidden from the prying eyes of my coworkers and, more importantly, from my father, his war advisor.

“I own this entire estate,” he said, his cocksure grin widening, arms spread wide. “I can be wherever I please, remember?” He rarely ventured to the servant’s quarters, complaining about the damp and mould. Yet, here he was, seeking me out, filling me with a mix of dread and a fleeting, foolish hope.