Chapter 5: I didn't want this!

Lyra's POV

When Drax appeared, the space seemed to shrink.

I felt my breathing turn rapid and shallow.

He was tall with broad shoulders, his tailored suit wrapping around powerful muscles, and that aura of authority that belonged to those in power had only grown heavier with time.

His face was handsome in a sharp, almost dangerous way—strong features, a high nose bridge, and thin lips pressed into a cold, indifferent line.

But what made it hardest to meet his gaze were those eyes, blue-gray like glaciers—cold, sharp, and unfathomable.

"Cynthia?" His tone was flat, but I caught the way his gaze swept over me, assessing.

"Yes..." My voice trembled.

My heart felt like it would burst from my chest.

"Wow, he's really hot," Elle teased inside my mind.

"Shut up!" I snapped back internally.

Wait... this wasn't what Elena and the others had said.

He wasn't ugly or disabled—he looked handsome and completely normal.

Did that mean the rumors were true? Was he really some sex-addicted pervert?

"What's wrong? You seem afraid of me."

He moved closer, step by step, his movements steady but carrying overwhelming pressure.

Each step felt deliberate, calculated, like he was testing my reaction.

"No, it's just... you're different from the rumors."

"Oh? Rumors?" Something flickered in his expression—not quite amusement, more like interest.

"What do they say about me?"

Of course it was terrible things, none of which I dared repeat to his face.

"Just gossip. Nothing worth listening to."

"Mm." He tilted his head slightly, still watching me with that unnerving focus.

"I believe we last met... ten years ago? At your birthday celebration?"

Thank God he didn't press about the rumors.

But my heart started racing again—not from attraction, but terror.

What? When?!

They were never supposed to have met!

Was I about to be exposed already?

Why hadn't Elena told me something this important?!

"Really? I... don't remember much. I wasn't feeling well that day, had a headache and everything was foggy. If I've forgotten, I hope you'll forgive me, Alpha."

The excuse tumbled out quickly.

I forced myself to stay calm, to meet his eyes even as every instinct screamed to look away.

For a long moment, he said nothing, just studied my face with those penetrating blue-gray eyes.

Then I heard Drax say, almost too casually, "Ah. Perhaps I'm mistaken."

A pause, weighted and deliberate.

"We've never actually met."

Relief crashed through me so intensely I nearly swayed.

I felt like a fool being toyed with, my emotions whiplashing from terror to relief in seconds.

"Oh... I see. I was confused too, then."

But something nagged at me—the way he'd said it, the timing of that pause.

Had he been testing me?

Watching to see how I'd react to a false claim?

Inside, I resented my biological parents—they'd given me no information yet sent me here anyway.

Did they really care about Cynthia?

Or did they never expect me to survive to see tomorrow?

"This marriage was my grandfather's decision," Drax continued, his voice returning to that neutral tone.

"He's very ill and only wants to see me married before he passes. So this is just a contractual arrangement. One year. After that, you're free to leave."

He moved to the desk and withdrew a document, placing it between us.

"Cynthia." His long fingers rested on the paper.

"Read it carefully. Make sure you understand what you're agreeing to."

My head spun as I scanned the contract.

So I needed to pretend to be Cynthia for a year—shorter than I'd feared, but every single day would be terrifying.

The terms were straightforward: a marriage of convenience, financial arrangements, public appearances as needed.

But there was one clause that made my breath catch.

I picked up the pen, then hesitated.

"Wait... this section about 'conjugal expectations'—are we... expected to have sex?"

"What do you think?" His response came immediately, but I noticed the way his posture shifted slightly, how his attention sharpened.

Me? Of course I didn't want to.

But under Drax's crushing presence, I couldn't voice my true thoughts.

Then he moved, circling around the desk with predatory grace.

"I'm a male with normal needs," he said, and suddenly he was right there, his fingers lifting my chin and forcing me to meet those blue-gray eyes.

"I never sleep around."

His thumb brushed along my jawline, a touch that felt more like an examination than a caress.

"So during this agreement, you have an obligation to fulfill your mate duties."

"No! He'll discover Vern's mark!" Elle shrieked in panic inside my mind.

"What's wrong?" Drax's voice dropped lower, and I realized my body had gone rigid under his touch.

"Unwilling? Or is there something you're not telling me?"

"I... I just need time to prepare." The words stumbled out.

"My doctor said my scent has been unstable lately. It's not a good time for bonding."

His eyes narrowed fractionally.

"Unstable scent," he repeated, as if tasting the words.

"That's unusual for someone your age. How long has this been an issue?"

Shit. I hadn't expected follow-up questions.

"A few weeks. Maybe a month. The doctor said it happens sometimes with stress."

"Mm." He released my chin but didn't step back, keeping me trapped in his personal space.

"Then we'll wait until you're ready. But I should warn you—you've heard the rumors. I have certain appetites. I can't wait indefinitely."

Terror shot through me!

I wasn't prudish—sleeping with a new husband wouldn't normally matter—but I couldn't risk him discovering the truth and killing me!

Mia was still waiting for me!

I reached for the pen with shaking hands and signed quickly, before he could ask more questions.

The moment the ink dried, I allowed myself one small breath of relief.

One year. I could survive one year.

I just had to be careful, keep my distance when possible, and—

Heat bloomed suddenly in my core, spreading outward like wildfire.

My heartbeat accelerated out of control.

No. Not now.

The mark on my neck began to burn with that all-too-familiar sensation—the phantom pull of a permanent bond being activated from afar.

Vern.

He was triggering it remotely, the way an Alpha could manipulate their mate's body through a completed mark, forcing arousal and heat regardless of distance or consent.

"It's Vern. Damn it, he's triggering our heat," Elle hissed.

I struggled to stay upright, fighting not to show anything in front of Drax.

But he just stood there, watching me with that same calculated intensity, and I realized with growing horror that he wasn't moving, wasn't looking away—he was observing my reaction.

I had to do something, anything to make him leave.

I tilted my head back, exposing my throat in a gesture of submission—Vern had always responded to this, maybe Drax would too.

Maybe it would satisfy whatever Alpha instinct was keeping him rooted in place.

"I understand... I'll prepare as quickly as I can. I'm just feeling unwell right now. Could I rest for a moment?"

Drax's gaze remained fixed on me, and for a terrible second I thought he would refuse, would press closer and discover everything.

His eyes tracked down to my exposed throat, lingered there for a heartbeat too long.

"Rest well, then."

He stepped back smoothly, picking up the signed contract.

But as he turned toward the door, he paused.

"Your scent is... unusual."

My blood turned to ice.

"Maybe it's my suppressants? I've been using them more frequently."

"Mm." He glanced back over his shoulder, and in that moment, I could have sworn I saw something knowing in his expression.

"Interesting choice."

Then he was gone.

I heard his footsteps retreat down the hallway, steady and unhurried, before the sound of a door closing somewhere in the distance finally released me from paralysis.

The moment I was alone, I collapsed to the floor.

But my body showed no relief—the heat only intensified.

I was burning up, my mouth going dry as I swallowed reflexively.

The ache between my legs was unbearable, wetness gathering as I pressed my thighs together, trying uselessly to relieve the maddening emptiness.

Vern was doing this deliberately.

Maybe he couldn't find me and wanted to force my submission, make me lose control and broadcast my scent so he could track me down.

Or maybe this was punishment for leaving, for ignoring his calls, for daring to think I could escape.

Whatever the reason, the humiliation burned almost as hot as the need itself—I felt like an animal in heat, unable to control my own body.

Vern had never respected me.

This was just like every other time he'd used the bond to remind me who held the power.

Tears slid down my cheeks, that familiar ache blooming in my chest—I truly hated him, yet those waves of desperate need kept washing over me, making me crave him against my will.

I didn't want this!

But the permanent mark kept influencing me, a leash he could yank whenever he pleased, reminding me that he hadn't released me, that I could never truly be free.

My rational mind was dissolving under the physical onslaught.

Almost without thought, my hand drifted downward, fingers slipping past the fabric to press against my wet, aching pussy, seeking any relief from the maddening heat—

Footsteps.

In the hallway.

Growing closer instead of farther away.

I froze, my hand still trapped between my thighs, as those expensive leather shoes came into view.

I looked up through tear-blurred vision to see Drax standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight of me—collapsed on the floor, flushed and trembling, caught in the most vulnerable moment possible.

"It seems," he said, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous register, "you need some help after all."