Breed Me Cursed Alpha (Lyra and Ronan) novel Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The sharp smell of bleach stings my nose as I scrub the alpha’s son’s bathroom, for the third time this week. There’s urine on the seat again. Kyle is nineteen, the future alpha of this pack, my younger half brother, yet he still can’t be bothered to lift the lid.

I’m not his maid.

I’m an omega.

Which in this pack means I’m whatever they need to be, whenever they need it.

My knees ache against the tile, and the bucket beside me ripples as I wring out the rag with hands rough from cheap soap. My wolf stirs uneasily, but I push her back. Neither of us has the freedom to react.

“Lyra!”

Marissa’s voice slices through the hallway, and I flinch on instinct.

I rise quickly, abandoning the half-cleaned toilet. My joints protest, and for a moment, I feel older than twenty-two.

Marissa waits at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, nails tapping against her arm. She’s beautiful in an icy, flawless way. Everything I’m not.

And she’s my stepmother, though she never allowed me to use the word.

“The dishes aren’t done,” she says.

“I was cleaning the bathrooms. You told me…”

“Don’t talk back.” Her gaze sharpens. “The alpha wants to see you. Now.”

My stomach drops.

The alpha never wants to see me. Marcus Kane could go months without acknowledging I exist, unless it’s to remind me I shouldn’t have.

I follow the west-wing staircase, each step heavier than the last. I’ve cleaned his office countless times, always when he’s away. It smells like leather, old books, and that sharp, electric scent of dominance that makes my wolf bow its head.

I knock.

“Come in.”

Marcus Kane sits behind a massive desk, papers neatly arranged. The only visible similarity between us is our pale blue eyes, though his feel like winter ice.

“Sit,” he says without looking up.

I obey, folding my hands to keep them from trembling.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“No, sir.”

He studies the document in front of him, then finally lifts his gaze. “Your mother was a breeder. Valuable to the pack. She gave life where others couldn’t.” A beat. “But she died giving birth to you.”

The unspoken truth hangs between us: A wolf dying in childbirth is considered a curse.

And I’ve lived under that shadow my entire life.

“I’ve been patient,” he continues. “Marissa wanted you gone the moment you were born. But I thought perhaps you would grow into something useful. You haven’t.”

“I work,” I say defensively, barely above a whisper. “I do everything the pack needs.”

“You do what any omega could do.” His expression doesn’t flicker. “And I’m tired of wasting pack resources.”

He slides a paper across the desk.

The red circle with crosshairs hits first.

Trade Sport.

My heartbeat stops. And then starts back up again. Rapidly.

Trade Sport isn’t just a show… it’s the show. The most-watched bloodsport on the continent. Every season, millions tune in to watch packs offer up their unwanted. Twenty bodies thrown into the Bloodwood forest for twelve hours of televised survival. The Hunters stalk the contestants with high-tech collars and guns that never miss.

The rules are simple: Run. Hide. Endure.

No one ever wins. They only die slower or faster.

“No…” My voice cracks. “No, please.”

“The contract is signed,” he says simply. “Payment received.”

“I’ll die.”

“Yes.”

The word lands like a stone.

“Dad…” The word escapes before I can stop it.

His expression hardens instantly. “Don’t ever call me that. You are not my daughter. You are the thing that crawled out of a dying breeder and took her last breath. You are the reason I had to wait two more years for the son I actually wanted. Every time I look at you, I’m reminded of my failures as an Alpha.”

I flinch. “I’m sorry. I just… please don’t send me there. I’ll work harder. I’ll leave the pack. I’ll… anything.”

“For years you have drained our food, our space.” His tone doesn’t rise; it doesn’t need to. “Trade Sport offered one point two million for you. Enough to fund the new training wing. Consider it the only value you will ever provide.”

My breath catches. “You sold me?”

“Oh hush… don’t be dramatic. It’s a public event. Plenty of omegas participate. An honor really.”

“You leave in two weeks,” he continues. “Transportation to the facility is arranged. The pack is aware. No one objected.”

“Please,” I try again, barely audible.

Marcus stands and adjusts his jacket. “You should be grateful. For once, you’re doing something meaningful.”

He steps toward the door, then pauses.

“I hope you at least last long enough to make it worth the money.”

The door closes behind him with a quiet click.

“Scrub. Or I’ll tell Marcus you disrespected the future alpha.”

My chest constricts.

I lower my hands to the puddle. My palms press into the liquid, cold and sticky. My cheeks burn as Kyle films me cleaning the mess with the hem of my already-dirty shirt.

Kyle leans in, filming my trembling fingers. “Aw. Pathetic.”

Something sharp snaps inside me.

My hand moves before I register the thought.

I meant to slap his phone out of his grip but then my hand connects with his face. Hard.

Silence.

Kyle’s eyes widen.

“You did not just…”

I stand slowly, pulse roaring.

The law flashes through my mind in sharp, brutal detail.

Speak ill of an alpha, lose your tongue.

Meet an alpha’s eyes without permission, lose your eyes.

Touch an alpha without permission, lose your hands.

I didn’t just touch the future alpha of the Wolfman pack.

I slapped him.

Hard.

Across the face.

On camera.

They’re going to cut off my arm. Both arms, probably.

Kyle steps forward, face red with fury.

“You little…”

I don’t wait for the rest.

I bolt.