Alpha's Eight Secret Babies

I woke up with a scream caught in my throat.

My body jerked forward, drenched in cold sweat, my heart pounding like it wanted to break free from my chest.

The hotel room was dark, the only light coming from the city glow slipping through the blinds.

My legs trembled as I pushed myself up from the crumpled bedsheets, every inch of me sore, shaky, and wrong.

I wasn’t supposed to be here.

I was supposed to be downstairs, cleaning rooms, changing linens, earning my tiny part-time paycheck. Not lying in some strange bed, naked and bruised and—

I bit my lip hard and choked back the sob burning its way up my throat.

The memories came in flashes. They were too fast, I couldn't grasp anything apart from the silhouette of his face.

The room was dark so I could only see his fiery eyes and shape of his face obscured in the shadows of the night.

I remembered how I struggled when he grabbed me, how I tried to scream but his hand covered my mouth.

His grip was like that of steel, so hard that I could still see the faint bruises on my arm, his eyes were strangely wild, like that of a feral animal.

I didn’t understand what was happening.

One moment I was pushing my cleaning cart down the hall, and the next, he’d dragged me inside this room, slammed the door shut, and locked it.

I couldn't even react when he whispered against my ear in a voice so low and trembling, “Mine. You’re mine.”

He didn’t kiss me. He bit me.

Not hard enough to bleed—but enough to mark. His teeth sank into the crook of my neck, his breath hot and ragged.

I could still feel the sting, the strange burn that started there and spread like wildfire through my veins.

I hated how my body responded—how my limbs stopped fighting after a while. How the pain blurred into something else, I didn’t want to name. I hated the way he looked at me, like I was some prey that he hunted.

He said strange things while he moved over me. Things I didn’t understand.

“Mate. You smell like mine.”

“Why are you still human?”

“You’re not supposed to run…”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My brain felt like it was melting, my body trembling under his. There was something in his voice, like an unknown power that sank into my bones and took root.

And now, he was gone.

The bed beside me was empty. The room smelled of sweat, earth, and primal—like wet pine and heat.

I scrambled out of bed, nearly falling over my own legs, and grabbed my uniform off the floor.

My hands shook as I dressed, pulling on each piece like it weighed a hundred pounds.

What just happened?

My knees gave out in the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror, barely recognizing the girl in the reflection.

My hair was a mess. My eyes were wide and bloodshot. My skin still burned where he bit me.

I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the night—but it clung to me, stubborn and heavy.

I needed to get out of here.

I slipped out of the room like a thief, heart thundering in my chest. No one saw me leave. The hallway was quiet. The elevator empty.

Outside, the air felt colder than it should’ve for a spring morning. I wrapped my arms around myself and walked fast, not caring if anyone noticed I wasn’t supposed to be off shift.

I didn’t stop until I reached home.

Our little apartment was just as I left it. Too small, too loud—thanks to my step sister, Zarah, blasting music in the living room.

She was sprawled across the couch, scrolling through her phone, legs swinging off the side like she didn’t have a care in the world.

She looked up when I walked in, frowning. “You look like hell.”

I didn’t answer. I dropped my bag by the door and walked straight to the bathroom. I locked the door behind me and turned on the shower.

Hot water scalded my skin, but it wasn’t enough. I scrubbed until my arms were red and raw. Still, I didn’t feel clean.

When I came out, wrapped in a towel, Zarah was standing in the hall holding something.

“Mannie,” she said, waving a shiny object at me. “When did you start wearing designer stuff?”

“What?”

“This.” She held up a man’s wristwatch—sleek, black, and expensive-looking. “It was in your pocket.”

My stomach dropped.

“I don’t—” I stared at the watch like it might bite me. “It’s not mine.”

Zarah’s eyes narrowed. “Seriously? Then whose is it?”

I didn’t want to answer. I didn’t want to think about him.

“Probably a guest” I muttered, voice low. “I don't know. Don't ask.” I said loudly, trying to cover up what had happened to me last night.

Zarah’s brows shot up. "A guest?Did you sleep with one?”

"I said it's none of your business" I said coldly and snagged the watch from her.

Something cold flickered across her face, but she said nothing.

I turned toward the trash bin.

“Wait!” she shouted, lunging forward. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want it,” I said. "Besides, do I have to keep telling you that it's none of your business."

Zarah snatched the watch from my hand like I’d threatened her life. “Are you insane? Do you know how much this costs?! This is, like, a whole semester of tuition.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, I do,” she snapped. She held the watch to her chest protectively. “If you’re too shaken to think straight, let me at least keep it.”

I stared at her, stunned.

She looked back with wide eyes—almost scared. She turned and bolted toward the door, grabbing her hoodie from the wall.

“Zarah, wait—!”

But she was gone. The door slammed shut behind her.

I stood frozen in the hallway, towel slipping from my shoulders, water still dripping from my hair. My chest ached. My legs felt weak. I leaned against the wall and slid down, curling into myself.

What was happening to me?

Why did I feel like something had changed?

The bite on my neck pulsed—hot, angry, and alive. I reached up to touch it and flinched. It wasn’t just a bruise. It glowed.

Just for a second. A faint, silver shimmer under my skin like moonlight trapped inside me.

I blinked.

Gone.

No, no, no. I was imagining things. I had to be. That guy—he was just some lunatic. A creep. A predator. He wasn’t—

But the way he growled… the way his hands gripped me like I’d vanish if he let go… the way his voice echoed in my head even now.

“Mate.”

That word haunted me.

I curled tighter into myself, my breathing shallow with my heart beating too loud.

I didn’t know who he was.

I didn’t know what he was.

But deep down, under the fear and the shame and the confusion, something inside me whispered a terrifying truth.

He wasn’t done with me yet.