The Alpha's Breeder
Twelve : Liar

I shakily grabbed the fork with my left hand before reaching for the knife with my right hand.

It took everything I had to not look back up at him.

There was this annoying feeling that gnawed at me, telling me to look up. It was almost like an instinctive need that I refused to submit to.

I don’t know if I was imagining it or not, but I could feel his breath flutter the hair at the crown of my head. His every inhale and exhale brushed against my temple as if he was leaning down towards me. He blocked the light with his body and a shadow to cast upon my face.

It didn’t look like he was going to move away anytime soon so I ended up obeying the call of impulse. I tipped my head back and looked up at him.

I originally wanted to glare at him but just seeing his face made me recoil into myself. All I really wanted to do was scratch his eyeballs out and flee like a frightened animal, but that was improbable.

From this angle, he looked much taller and scarier, yet I couldn’t get myself to look away and I had no clue why.

“What is your name?” Eros asked me. I was actually tempted to just let him wait it out before replaceing out that I will never tell him.

But that icy look on his face made me decide otherwise though.

“Asuka,” I blurted out after choking on my spit.

The stern look on his face made me verbally vomit again. I have no idea why I gave him my co-worker’s name instead of my own. It just came out on its own accord.

Before I could even think to correct myself, his long fingers gripped my chin with a slightly tense hold until my head was angled upwards to stare him directly in the eye.

I vaguely noted that his hands were very warm and that there was a strange tingling sensation that remained on my flesh from where we touched.

Just at the notion of what that could mean, my heart sped up to an abnormally fast pace.

The fork in my hand clinked against the porcelain plate when I dropped it to grab his hand in case his claws decide to sink into my flesh.

I don’t want to bleed out at the dinner table, that would be far too impolite.

“I can smell your lie.” The animalistic glint in his eye made my stomach churn uneasily.

I knew from research that with their enhanced hearing, werewolves are the closest possible living version of the lie detector. They can hear the change in heart rate and smell the acrid scent of nervousness and sweat that is expelled when a person is lying, no matter how good of a liar they are.

The urge to tell him to shove it was quickly swallowed down with the rest of my pride since I really didn’t want to deal with the consequences.

Terrified would not even describe how I feel right now, and I couldn’t help but reprimand myself.

What was I thinking?

“I do not take well to being lied to, especially not from you. Now tell me your name,” he said with a slight furrowing of his brows.

I guess there won’t be any more lying for a while, not when there’s a lie detector everywhere.

“Emi,” I muttered, pushing a lock of hair from my face to notice that a chunk of the foundation had dried on it. “It’s not a lie. My name is really Emi, short for Emira.”

Eros strong grip on my chin finally loosened. His long tapered fingers slid across my cheek, stroking across the surface lightly and became stuck.

I could tell that his hand almost sunk into my face because of the thick cakey layers of makeup that coated my skin.

It hadn’t quite dried yet because of my rush in application, and so it was sticking to everything.

There was quite a bit of foundation that had transferred onto his hand even when he only lightly swept has fingers along.

His frown was almost noticeable when he inspected his fingers.

The makeup was like a fly trap on my face.

“Do you have to coat your face in so much of this, Emira?” his voice sounded slightly annoyed, irked and bothered by my attitude.

I didn’t say anything, deciding to play dumb.

All I have to simply do is play it off and act like I want to be here until my escape falls through.

“Yes,” I stated in finality, pointedly staring on his chin since I lost the nerve to look him in the eyes.

"Deceit does not look good on you, mate.” His eyes flashed in annoyance. A slightly displeased curl of his lips showed me how irritated he was by me continuously lying to him.

“Don’t call me that!” I state in exasperation, dull nails biting into his wrist as I glared up at him.

Perhaps all the stress got to me because I definitely feel angrier and easily irritated. The frustration started building until I felt like I was going to burst into a crying fit.

“I will call you by the title that you deserve, Emira,” he replied with a curve of his lips into one of the most good looking of smirks that I have ever seen.

I felt an angry growl burst from my throat when he had the audacity to look entertained!

“Impressive.” He looked quite amused at my anger and that seemed to make me feel even more pissed.

“I’m not your mate, or hell, even your packmate!” I cried out, pushing my chair back and attempting to shove him out of my personal space. But just like I expected, he was as solid as a giant immovable boulder.

At this point, I am beyond frustrated.

I’m so upset with the situation that I have no clue what to do.

Being kidnapped then starved for a couple of days before being chased and threatened to be killed is not a good start of the week.

My chest felt hot with rage like a kettle set on the stove, gradually building up with pressure as it came closer to the boiling point.

“Calm down,” he said, lips pulled downwards into a frown when he noticed my gradual decline in sanity.

My ears were hot and my face felt extremely warm. I totally ignored his words.

I glared up at Alpha Eros before spitting out the one word I later learned to regret, ”No.”

“I am getting out of here and you can ‘calm down’ yourself!” I continued to say, weaving past him and heading straight for the door.

Just before my fingers could graze the knob, I was tugged forcefully back by the crook of my elbow. The momentum and force of the pull caused me to trip over my own two feet until my face plastered itself onto his hard chest, limbs flying akimbo.

The white shirt he wore was completely ruined the moment my face touched it.

My bright pink lipstick created a giant smudge across the seemingly flawless white shirt while the light foundation seemed almost brown once it touched down.

And I can only imagine what half of my face looks like now.

The adrenaline rush was definitely kicking in, making me feel rather light-headed. I struggled to get out of his arms. They were like strong vices that failed to let me go, gradually closing in around my body.

The more I struggled, the tighter his hold became, almost like the relentless Chinese finger trap.

“You will not be leaving, Emira,” Eros calmly said. “It is too dangerous. Do you understand?”

That terrifyingly cold expression on his face coupled with that terntone of voice startled me enough to clear the haze of pent up anger.

All of that fake bravado spilled out in torrents until I was trembling again like a leaf in the wind.

“I will not repeat myself.” His arms tightened around my waist, holding me flush against his much taller and stronger form until my breasts were pressed flat against him. I could definitely feel the flexing of his muscles, coiling and uncoiling like a snake ready to strike if I disagreed with him.

The shiver than traveled the expanse of my body could not be helped when I heard the sound of my name leaving his lips with such emphasis.

“Yes,” I hoarsely whispered like a lamed animal, turning my gaze away from his enthralling eyes.

"Good.” His body relaxed almost instantly at my admission, at my willing submission.

Somehow, I finally remembered that Alphas do not take “no” for an answer. Anyone who dared to go against these Alphas wishes died faster than they could even breathe in their last breath.

I swallowed the lump in my throat when my stomach chose to make itself known with a horrendously rude growl of its own.

Eros frowned deeply and dragged my unresisting body back into the chair again.

I didn’t have the confidence to refuse.

“Eat,” he said after fluidly taking a seat across from me and handing me the fork.

I was no longer in the mood to eat, but I had to force myself to since his eyes were pointedly staring me down like there would be some sort of hidden punishment if I declined.

Just as I was about to pick up the knife to start cutting at my steak, he reached over and grabbed my plate, quickly replacing it with his own.

I paused momentarily, glancing down at the neatly cut bite-sized pieces before me with a rather dumbfounded expression on my face

He was either really quick or I was really slow.

“Thank you,” I muttered under my breath, taking a small bite of the steak.

I know how to be thankful and voice my gratitude even if it was towards the man who is keeping me captive.

The corner of his lips turned upwards and I duly noted that he only started eating once I had properly started on my meal, making sure that I was doing as I was told.

Truthfully, I have a feeling that this meal was going to be a once in a lifetime memory that I will never forget.