Chapter 1: The Alpha’s Bite

I’m an Enigma, but I have an Alpha wife.

Let me break it down: in Savannah, Georgia—or pretty much anywhere—this isn’t your standard romance. Being an Enigma means I get stuck with a label, like a backstage pass to a secret club nobody wants to talk about. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, it almost feels cool. Most of the time, it’s just a recipe for trouble.

My Alpha? She’s fierce, cold, and impossible to ignore.

If you saw Derek—six feet tall, built like she bench-presses furniture, always in a suit so sharp it could cut you—you’d get it. Those eyes could freeze a Savannah summer. She’s got that Southern Gothic vibe, like she belongs in a haunted mansion instead of our kitchen at dawn, coffee steaming in her hand, always so damn calm.

It wasn’t until after my awakening that I realized I was just a disposable villain in her story, and she had an Omega she truly loved.

Honestly, I should’ve seen it coming. The way Derek would stare out the window, drumming her fingers on the sill, her mind somewhere I could never reach. There was always a space between us, a skipped beat in every conversation—like we were reading from a script someone else wrote. Turns out, the ending was never supposed to be us together.

Unless I’d lost my mind, I’d never willingly stay with someone so stubborn, so prickly—so Alpha.

Yet there I was, stuck in her silence, drowning in my own neediness, questioning my sanity every single day. If this was what they called domestic bliss, I must’ve missed the memo.

So I walked out on her—straight to a bar downtown, ready to flirt with every pretty Omega in sight.

The place was all spilled bourbon and regret, neon lights flickering, sticky floors, and the jukebox in the corner rattling out a Garth Brooks song. The smell of fried pickles clung to everything. I promised myself I’d ditch my conscience for a night. Tossing back a whiskey sour, I tried out my most reckless grin, ready to see what kind of trouble I could find.

But before the ice in my glass had even melted, my Alpha stormed in and slammed me hard against her rock-solid abs.

She came in like a thunderstorm, and before I could finish my drink, Derek had me pressed up against the jukebox. Her palm on my chest, the air between us snapping like a live wire—hotter than July pavement.

That mouth—usually all business—suddenly started spitting filthy talk:

“Aren’t you an Enigma? Why do you melt every time I touch you?”

“Mmm, say something.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“Cover your mouth for me.”

Hearing those words in her low, husky drawl made my knees weak. I almost forgot we weren’t alone—somebody hollered in the background, someone else ordered another round. I bit my lip, caught between laughing and crying.

“Derek, my heat’s here, give me a kiss.”

“Get lost.”

“Just one.”

“Pa—”

Tsk. Another slap.

Fourth time now.

The first time, I let it slide—we weren’t close. The second time, I thought she was just shy.

Third time—okay, three strikes, I gave her a pass.

But this? The fourth time? I was getting tired of being the punchline.

If I pop another inhibitor tonight, I’ll barely even be an Enigma anymore.

Thinking that, I pressed my tongue against my cheek, eyes narrowing dangerously at Derek’s maddeningly gorgeous face.

She’s my wife—what’s so wrong about marking her?

“Derek.”

The second she looked up, I lunged and bit down at the gland on her neck.

My pulse thudded in my ears, hands shaking as I reached for her. For a second, I thought she might let me. Just this once. I caught a whiff of her clean, woodsy cologne, and right as I was about to taste her skin, she kicked me hard to the floor.

My ribs ached for real.

“Logan, what the hell are you doing? You want to get treated like a stray?”

Derek cursed, grinding her right foot into the swollen side of my face.

From this angle, all I could see were her long, lean legs and the curve of her ass outlined by those tailored pants.

Maybe I was being too obvious—too shameless—because she pressed her foot down even harder.

The cold sole, the pain, the nerves lighting up—honestly… kind of spicy. No wonder I’m so hooked on her.

I licked the corner of my lips, dragging my tongue across the top of her shoe, leaving a wet, shiny streak.

“President Derek, you’re really hard here…”

I hinted, panting, my voice rough and low.

No matter how cold she is, she can’t fight a 100% match.

Sure enough, Derek’s Adam’s apple bobbed, her pupils going unfocused for a split second.

But she snapped out of it, crouched down, grabbed my chin, and slapped me again.

The sting on my cheek barely registered—what hurt worse was how familiar it was. I almost laughed. Or maybe I almost cried.

…

Inhuman—she didn’t even treat me like a person.

Derek looked furious, her back tense as she walked away, like she’d just escaped a wild animal.

Weirdly enough, I counted that as a win. If I could piss Derek off, maybe I was getting somewhere.

That’s the kind of twisted logic you end up with in a Savannah marriage gone sideways. I rubbed my jaw, thinking I deserved a medal for persistence—or at least a cold beer.