My Alpha's Heartless Contract Wife

Anya POV

The ice in my glass clinked against the silence of the hotel room, a lonely sound that matched the hollow ache in my chest. Being a wolfless human in the Blackwood Pack meant living your life as a ghost. You were seen, but never truly acknowledged. You took up space, but you held no weight. I was twenty-four years old, long past the age of awakening, yet my inner wolf remained stubbornly dormant-a phantom beast that refused to haunt me, leaving me entirely human in a world of monsters.

While the rest of the Pack executives were downstairs in the grand ballroom, celebrating the end of the annual corporate retreat with open bars and uninhibited, wolfish posturing, I was up here. Hiding. I was officially a Restorationist and Archival Specialist for the Conglomerate, but tonight, I was just a girl drowning her sorrows in the minibar's overpriced, mediocre vodka.

I needed a distraction. I needed to feel like I existed, even if just for a moment.

Squinting at my phone screen, I cursed myself for taking my contacts out already. The names in my contact list were fuzzy gray lines. I scrolled until I thought I saw Camryn, my best friend and the only person who didn't look at me with pity.

My thumbs tapped clumsily against the glass.

I need a distraction. Send me something hot.

I hit send and fell back onto the plush pillows, giggling at my own boldness. The phone buzzed almost instantly.

A single question mark. I rolled my eyes. Camryn was playing coy. Emboldened by the vodka coursing through my veins, I typed back, my fingers flying faster than my brain could process.

Don't play dumb! Either send me a hot warrior, or be one. I'm in room 1501. 😉

I tossed the phone onto the nightstand. There. A joke. A desperate cry for attention masked as humor.

Minutes later, a heavy knock echoed through the room.

"Room service?" I wondered aloud, stumbling off the bed. Or maybe Camryn had actually come to drag me out.

I swung the door open, a sloppy grin plastered on my face. "Did you bring the-"

The words died in my throat.

Standing in the doorway was not a waiter. It was not Camryn.

It was Alpha Declan Blackwood.

He loomed over me, a titan of muscle and shadow, blocking out the hallway light. He was wearing nothing but a black silk robe that hung loosely around his frame, exposing the hard, tanned expanse of his chest and the sharp lines of his collarbones. His hair was wet, dark droplets falling onto his forehead, as if he had just stepped out of the shower.

But it was his scent that hit me first-a tidal wave of rain-soaked earth, pine, and the electric charge of a brewing storm. It was the scent of power. It wrapped around my throat, choking me, making my knees tremble.

"Alpha?" I squeaked, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

He didn't speak. His eyes, dark and swirling with a predatory hunger I had never seen directed at me, locked onto mine. Before I could apologize, before I could explain that I was just a stupid, drunk, wolfless girl who had made a mistake, he moved.

His hand shot out, large and calloused, cupping the back of my neck. He didn't ask. He took.

He crashed his lips against mine, a searing, possessive kiss that tasted of mint and raw dominance. A jolt of electricity-sharp and hot-zapped through my skin where he touched me. It was agonizing and addictive all at once. My mind went blank, the alcohol and the sheer force of his presence short-circuiting my logic.

Why? The question floated in the haze of my mind. Why is the Alpha kissing me?

He didn't give me time to think. He marched me backward, kicking the door shut with a definitive slam that sealed my fate. The room spun as he pressed me down onto the mattress, his heavy body caging me in.

Panic flared, but it was quickly suffocated by a darker, more desperate need.

I looked up at him, breathless. He was beautiful. Terrifyingly beautiful. And he was here, in my bed.

He's drunk, I rationalized, my hands trembling as they found purchase on his broad shoulders. He has to be. Or he thinks I'm someone else.

Memories of our childhood flashed-sitting next to him in pup training, back when titles didn't matter. But that was years ago. To him, I was just an employee, a background character.

He won't remember this, a voice whispered in my head. Tomorrow, he'll wake up and forget the wolfless girl in room 1501. But for tonight... for tonight, I can pretend I matter.

It was a dangerous bargain, a lie I was willing to sell my soul for.

I stopped fighting the inevitable. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling the storm down upon me, and surrendered to the fire.

Anya POV

Waking up felt less like rising from sleep and more like surfacing from a deep, dark ocean. My body felt heavy, languid, and thoroughly used, humming with a strange, electric afterglow that I had never experienced before. But as the fog of sleep lifted, the reality of where I was-and who I was with-crashed down on me with the force of a physical blow.

A heavy arm was draped over my waist, pinning me to the mattress. It was solid muscle, hot and unyielding like an iron bar.

I froze, my breath hitching in my throat.

Slowly, terrified of what I might see, I turned my head. Alpha Declan Blackwood was asleep beside me. In the pale gray light of dawn, he looked less like a man and more like a dormant god carved from marble. His dark lashes rested against his cheekbones, softening the harsh, predatory lines of his face, but even in sleep, he radiated a terrifying amount of power.

Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through the lingering haze of alcohol.

Oh, Goddess. What have I done?

I was a wolfless. A nobody. I scrubbed floors and filed paperwork to pay for my mother's dialysis. And I had just slept with the Alpha.

If he woke up and saw me-saw the pathetic, invisible girl he employed-he wouldn't just fire me. In our pack, a wolfless touching an Alpha was seen as a contamination. I could be exiled. Or worse.

I had to leave. Now.

His scent was everywhere. It was a thick, intoxicating blend of rain-soaked earth and ozone that seemed to have seeped into my very pores. It was possessive, wrapping around me like a second skin. I felt a strange, irrational urge to burrow closer to him, to let that scent drown me, but I ruthlessly shoved the feeling down. That was a death wish.

With the precision of a bomb disposal technician, I lifted his arm. It was incredibly heavy. He grunted low in his throat, his brow furrowing, and my heart stopped. I held my breath until his breathing evened out again.

I slid off the bed, my legs trembling as they hit the plush carpet. I grabbed my clothes from the floor, not daring to put them on until I was out the door. I took one last look at him-the dark hair messy against the white pillow, the scratch marks on his shoulder that I had put there-and fled.

The hallway was empty, thank the Goddess. I sprinted barefoot to the elevator, clutching my heels and dress to my chest. I didn't go back to the room I was supposed to share with Camryn. I couldn't face her questions yet.

Instead, I went to the front desk, my hands shaking so badly I dropped my credit card twice. I booked a new room, wincing as the charge went through. That was two weeks of grocery money gone, but I needed a sanctuary.

The moment the door to the new room clicked shut, I stripped and practically dove into the shower. I turned the water up until it was scalding, scrubbing my skin with the harsh, industrial-smelling hotel soap until I was raw and red.

"Get off," I hissed, tears mingling with the spray. "Get off me."

I needed to scrub away the scent of rain and pine. I needed to scrub away the memory of his lips, his hands, the way he had made me feel like I was the only woman in the world.

Once I was dressed in fresh clothes-a stiff corporate blouse and skirt-I grabbed my phone. My thumb hovered over the message thread with Camryn.

Don't play dumb! Either send me a hot warrior, or be one. I'm in room 1501.

I deleted it. Then I deleted the call log. I deleted everything.

It never happened, I told myself, staring at my pale reflection in the mirror. He was drunk. He won't remember. I am invisible. I have always been invisible.

By the time I made it to the hotel lobby for the morning training seminar, I had constructed a fragile mask of normalcy.

"There you are!" Camryn waved from near the coffee station. She looked bright-eyed and annoying. "Where were you last night? I came to the room and you weren't there."

"I... I fell asleep in a spare room," I lied, grabbing a coffee to hide my shaking hands. "Migraine."

Before she could pry further, the atmosphere in the lobby shifted. The chatter died instantly. The air grew heavy, charged with static electricity.

The glass doors slid open, and Alpha Declan walked in.

He was flanked by his Beta, Heath Jacobson, and two Gamma warriors. He was wearing a sharp charcoal suit that cost more than my life's earnings, his hair slicked back, his face a mask of cold, indifferent authority. He didn't look like the passionate lover from a few hours ago. He looked like a king coming to inspect his subjects.

I lowered my head, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. Don't look at him. Don't look at him.

He strode past us, his power rolling off him in waves that made the hair on my arms stand up. He was heading for the exit, leaving. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I was safe. He didn't know.

Suddenly, he stopped.

The silence in the lobby was deafening. Declan didn't turn around. He just stood there, rigid, his head tilted slightly as if listening to a frequency no one else could hear. Then, he turned to Heath.

His voice was low, but in the dead silence, it carried like a gunshot.

"Find out who was registered to Room 1501 last night," Declan commanded, his tone icy and laced with a terrifying promise of violence. "Bring her to me."

My blood turned to ice. The coffee cup rattled in my hand.

Beside me, Camryn gasped. She turned to me, her eyes wide with confusion and a dawning, horrified realization. She didn't mean to be loud. She was just shocked.

"1501?" she whispered, but in the vacuum of the silent lobby, it sounded like a scream. "Anya, wasn't that your room?"

Anya POV

Camryn's whisper hit the silent lobby like a grenade.

1501? Anya, wasn't that your room?

Time seemed to warp, stretching into an agonizing eternity. Every head in the room swiveled toward us. I felt the blood drain from my face, leaving me lightheaded and cold. I wanted to dissolve into the floor tiles. I wanted to vanish.

But Alpha Declan Blackwood did not let me vanish.

He stopped mid-stride near the exit. Slowly, with the lethal grace of a predator scenting blood, he turned. His eyes, dark and tempestuous as a stormy sea, locked onto mine. There was no recognition of the intimacy we had shared hours ago-no warmth, no lingering passion. There was only a cold, clinical assessment that stripped me down to my very bones.

He didn't speak. He didn't roar. He simply looked at me, his gaze lingering for a heartbeat that felt like a lifetime, branding me with a silent promise of retribution. Then, without a word, he turned his back and walked out the glass doors, his entourage trailing behind him like shadows.

The air in the lobby rushed back in, but it was thick with tension.

"Anya?" Camryn squeaked, her hand flying to her mouth as the realization of what she had done crashed over her. "Oh, Goddess. I didn't mean-"

"Carroll!"

The barked name made me jump. Dannie Hill, the regional manager leading this training seminar, was barreling toward us. He was a balding, portly man who usually looked bored, but now his face was slick with sweat and pale with terror. He knew the Alpha's temper, and he knew that a screw-up on his watch could cost him everything.

He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to bruise.

"You stupid, stupid girl," Dannie hissed, spittle flying from his lips. "What did you do? Did you steal something? Did you break something?"

"I... I didn't..." I stammered, my throat dry.

"Shut up," he snapped, his eyes darting around the lobby to see who was watching. "I am not going to lose my position because a wolfless decided to play games. You are going to fix this."

He shoved me toward the elevators, his grip unyielding. "Carroll. The Alpha wants to see you. In his suite. Now."

"No," I whispered, panic clawing at my chest. "Please, Mr. Hill. I can't-"

"You don't have a choice!" Dannie's voice rose to a desperate squeak. "You go up there, you apologize, and you beg for mercy. Or so help me Goddess, I will make sure you never work in this pack again."

He practically threw me into the elevator and hit the button for the penthouse. As the doors slid shut, I caught a glimpse of Camryn's face-pale, tear-streaked, and horrified. Then, I was rising, alone, toward my execution.

The hallway to the penthouse was silent, the plush carpet swallowing the sound of my trembling footsteps. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, frantic and bruising.

I stood before the double mahogany doors, my hand hovering over the wood. I couldn't do this. I should run. But where? He was the Alpha. He owned the hotel. He owned the city. He owned me.

Before I could knock, the lock clicked. The door swung open, not by a servant, but seemingly on its own.

I stepped inside.

The suite was massive, a cavern of black marble, chrome, and floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the city skyline. It was beautiful, cold, and utterly devoid of warmth-just like the man standing by the window.

Declan Blackwood stood with his back to me. He had shed his suit jacket and shirt. His broad, muscular back was a landscape of power, the muscles shifting beneath his skin as he breathed.

The scent hit me instantly-that intoxicating blend of rain-soaked earth, pine, and ozone. It slammed into me, wrapping around my senses and making my knees weak. My body, traitorous and pathetic, hummed in recognition. It wanted him, even as my mind screamed in terror.

"Close the door," he commanded. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.

I pushed the door shut. The click of the latch sounded like a prison cell locking.

Declan turned slowly. His face was a mask of stone, his eyes devoid of the heat that had burned me alive last night. Now, they were ice. He scanned me, from my cheap corporate blouse to my scuffed heels, his lip curling slightly.

"So," he said, his voice dangerously soft. "This is the wolfless who thinks she can summon her Alpha for a night, and then scurry away like a frightened mouse?"

I swallowed hard, clutching my hands together to stop them from shaking. "Alpha, I... I didn't mean to-"

"Didn't mean to what?" He took a step toward me. The air in the room grew heavy, charged with his dominance. "Didn't mean to sneak into my bed? Didn't mean to claw my skin?"

He tapped the fresh scratch marks on his shoulder-marks I had left. My face burned with shame.

"I was drunk," I whispered, staring at the floor. "I didn't know it was you until this morning. I panicked."

"You panicked." He scoffed, a harsh, humorless sound.

In a blur of motion, he closed the distance between us. I gasped, backing up until my spine hit the solid wood of the door. Declan loomed over me, placing one hand on the door beside my head, boxing me in. His heat radiated off him, searing my skin even without touching.

He lowered his head, his nose brushing against my jawline, inhaling deeply. I trembled, a jolt of electricity shooting down my spine at the contact.

"You smell like fear," he murmured against my ear, his voice dropping an octave. "And cheap soap. You tried to scrub me off you."

He pulled back slightly, his hand moving to grip my chin, forcing me to look up into his furious, mesmerizing eyes.

"Tell me, Anya," he said, saying my name like it was a curse. "What was the plan? Get the Alpha drunk, spread your legs, and hope for a payout? A promotion? Or did you think you could trap me with a pregnancy?"

"No!" The accusation stung worse than a slap. "I'm not... I would never..."

"Then why run?" His grip on my chin tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to hold me captive. "Innocent women don't flee crime scenes, Anya. Only the guilty run."

His thumb brushed over my lower lip, a gesture that was confusingly tender yet terrifyingly possessive.

"Tell me," he demanded, his eyes searching mine with a terrifying intensity. "What did you hope to gain by warming my bed?"