The Rejected daughter chosen by the Alpha (Maya and Atila) novel Chapter 100

Chapter 100

– MAYA

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The morning had that crisp, washed-clean London feel that only comes after a night of rain. The sky was still heavy with clouds, but the city was already alive outside. We walked down to the hand in hand, and I couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot.

He was dressed entirely in black.

garage

Black fitted T-shirt, tight enough to outline every line of his broad shoulders. Dark jeans hugging his strong thighs. Heavy black boots striking the concrete with steady, confident echoes. The dark fabric against his lightly tanned skin made him look even more unfairly attractive.

I looked away fast, like someone might overhear my thoughts. But I couldn’t help sneaking another glance. The way the shirt stretched over his chest. The firm flex of his arm when he tightened his grip around my

hand.

When we stopped in front of a large, sleek black motorcycle, I froze.

I looked at him.

“Is that yours?”

He nodded, casual.

“And we’re taking it.”

My eyes widened.

“What?”

“You’ve never been on a bike?” he asked, one eyebrow lifting.

“No. Never,”

That crooked half-smile appeared-the one that made my knees go weak.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

My stomach flipped,

He grabbed a black helmet with a dark visor and placed it in my hands, then handed me a black leather jacket, I struggled into it a little, and he stepped behind me, adjusting the shoulders, slowly pulling up the zipper. His fingers brushed my stomach for a second longer than necessary.

I shivered all over.

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He got on first. The engine roared to life when he turned the key. The deep sound vibrated through the air-and straight through me.

I climbed on behind him, unsure where to put my hands.

“Hold on to me,” he said without looking back.

I barely had time to obey.

He accelerated.

The bike lunged forward, and so did I. I jolted and wrapped my arms tightly around his torso, pressing my chest against his broad back.

He laughed.

The engine’s vibration pulsed through my entire body as we left the garage and hit the streets. The wind slammed against my helmet, tugging at loose strands of hair.

London blurred around us.

My heart nearly stopped when he took one hand off the handlebars.

“What are you doing?” I shouted, my voice muffled inside the helmet.

He reached back to where my hand gripped his abdomen, intertwined our fingers-and lifted my hand to his lips.

He kissed

my

knuckles.

Right there.

At almost sixty miles per hour.

Goosebumps erupted under the leather jacket. The gesture was quick, but it stole the air from my lungs. He returned his hand to the handlebars like nothing had happened and kept riding.

We reached the UCL campus minutes later.

The bike drew attention. A few students turned as he rode past, the low rumble echoing against the old stone buildings. The visor was dark enough that no one could recognize us,

Still, my heart was racing.

He parked near a large tree, slightly away from the crowd. Cut the engine. The silence felt strange

after all that noise.

I climbed off almost hopping, my legs still a little shaky. I pulled off my helmet and shook out my hair.

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He removed his slowly, eyes locked on me.

“I’ll go

in first,” I said quickly, adjusting my backpack. “So it’s not so obvious.”

He didn’t answer right away.

When I turned to leave, he grabbed my arm.

And pulled me into him, capturing my mouth.

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The kiss was hot, wet, urgent. His tongue slid into my mouth without hesitation, and I met him just as fiercely. My heart was pounding so hard at the thought of someone walking by and seeing us that I almost went dizzy.

His hands gripped my waist like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

When he pulled back, it was slow. He finished with a lingering, soft kiss.

“I’ll see you tonight. Don’t forget our date.”

I bit my lip.

“Deal.”

I walked toward the building with shaky legs.

My first class was Cognitive Development in Young Adulthood. I tried to focus-I swear I did-but my mind was still stuck on the growl of the engine, the stolen kiss, his hand holding mine.

The second class was Applied Social Psychology.

But the main professor didn’t show up.

And the one who walked in was Átila.

“Good morning,” he said, voice steady. “Professor Harris couldn’t make it, so I’ll be covering today’s lecture.”

He started talking about neurotransmitters, dopamine, reward pathways. I tried to concentrate.

Halfway through the class, my phone vibrated inside my backpack.

A message from Beatrice.

“What time are we leaving today?”

I frowned.

Today?

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I checked the date.

My stomach dropped.

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Tomorrow was her birthday. We had planned to camp and take the night bus to West Sussex.

Damn.

I already had a date.

With him.

I bit my lip.

I couldn’t cancel the camping trip. Beatrice had been planning it for weeks, talking about it like it was the highlight of the year.

I took a slow breath.

Átila and I could reschedule.

I looked up at him. He was reading from the textbook, then paused and shot me a look that clearly said, What’s with that face?

I gave him a subtle later-I’ll-tell-you look.

The bell rang.

Students started filing out. My pulse spiked again as the room emptied.

I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked up to his desk.

“We’re going to have to postpone our date,” I whispered.

He frowned slightly,

I explained quickly.

“I forgot tomorrow’s Beatrice’s birthday, and we’re traveling tonight. We planned this camping trip. I can’t cancel.”

“It’s fine. I understand.”

I glanced over my shoulder. The door was still open.

“Do you really?”

“Of course I do, baby. Relax.”

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I stepped closer.

“But… if you’re not too busy…” I lowered my voice even more. “You could come with us.”

One eyebrow lifted.

“Wouldn’t my presence

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make your friend uncomfortable?” he asked, keeping that overly serious tone for someone who’d just kissed me like that earlier.

I held his gaze, considering. Beatrice wasn’t easily bothered. Curious? Maybe. Observant? Always. Uncomfortable? No. I shook my head slowly.

“I don’t think so. She’s chill. She doesn’t care about stuff like that.”

I stepped closer again, closing the distance between us. The classroom door was still open; I could see the hallway from the corner of my eye. My heart sped up just from the boldness of it.

“And honestly…” I murmured, my lips hovering near his jawline, “it would be kind of tragic to freeze alone inside a sleeping bag.”

The shift in his eyes was immediate. The irises darkened. His breathing slowed-controlled. He didn’t smile. There was something far more dangerous than a smile there.

“Is that cousin of hers going too?” he asked, trying way too hard to sound casual.

I shrugged.

“No idea… maybe.”

He tilted his head, analyzing that information like he was solving a complex equation instead of feeling jealous of a guy he barely knew.

“Then my presence is absolutely confirmed.”

Before I could react, he stole a quick, almost invisible kiss.

“Don’t worry,” he added in a low voice. “I’ll make sure you stay very warm. Now I have another class

to teach.”

And he walked out like nothing had happened. Like I wasn’t standing there with my heart racing and my legs slightly unsteady.

I stood there for a few seconds, blinking, staring at the open door and then the empty hallway to make sure no one had seen anything. I shook my head, trying to collect myself, and headed to the cafeteria.

Beatrice and I worked until early evening. The shift was long-orders piling up, espresso machines hissing nonstop-but my mind was already impatient to see him again.

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When we finally got back to the apartment, Cassian was in the living room, sitting on the couch with an old book open in his hands. The cover was dark leather, worn at the edges, with a faded design that looked like dragons locked in battle. He leaned slightly forward, focused, the lamplight casting elegant shadows across his face.

There was something almost princely about the scene. The straight posture. The contained calm. The way he looked like he belonged to another era.

When he saw us, he closed the book carefully and adjusted himself on the couch, offering a polite smile. I greeted Cassian and went straight to my room to pack. I pulled out coats, boots, comfortable clothes for camping. As I folded a sweatshirt, I grabbed my phone and texted Átila.

I waited.

The screen stayed still.

No delivery notification.

I frowned and refreshed the conversation. Nothing.

The minutes started to feel heavy. Every time I checked my phone, the silence felt louder. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he was teaching. Maybe he was driving.

But something inside me began to grow restless.

When we were almost ready to leave, I told Beatrice I’d be right back and stepped into the hallway. I knocked on his apartment door.

Silence.

I knocked again, harder,

Nothing.

I went down to the parking garage, my chest tightening with a feeling I couldn’t explain. The spot

ja where his bike usually sat was empty,

The Ducati wasn’t there.

Like he hadn’t come home at all.

I stood there for a few seconds, staring at the empty space.

Maybe something came up.

Maybe he can’t go..

Maybe he’s dealing with something urgent.

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I took a deep breath and went back upstairs. Beatrice called from the door, rushing me because the bus was arriving.

Minutes later, we were heading down with our bags. The bus stopped in front of the building, and the three of us boarded: me, Beatrice, and Cassian.

As the bus pulled away from the city, I watched London’s lights grow smaller through the window. I rested

my head against the cold glass and hugged my jacket tighter.

No matter how much I tried to rationalize it-telling myself he probably just ran into something unexpected-it was impossible not to feel that sharp sting of disappointment.

I wanted him there.

And the empty seat beside me seemed to confirm it with every mile we traveled.