Alpha's Human Mate

Chapter 1

Ivy's POV

"Miss Carter! open the damn door, i don't have all day!"

I groaned and dragged myself out of bed, still in the oversized t-shirt that had belonged to my aunt. the fabric smelled faintly of her laundry soap, though it had been washed a hundred times since she passed. My feet hit the linoleum, cold and cracked, and I winced at the shock.

"I'm coming," I muttered, though Jenkins never listened.

His fist hammered again. "rent's overdue! you've got two days, ivy. two! or you're out!"

I undid the chain and opened the door a crack. the hallway smelled of cigarettes and mildew, and there he was: Jenkins, in his yellowed undershirt, his belly straining against it, gray hair wild like a bird's nest. His eyes narrowed as soon as he saw me, sharp and judgmental.

"I just need a little more time," I said, voice small. "I will have the money."

He snorted. "That's what you said last month. and the one before. You think I'm running a charity? pay up or pack up."

he jabbed his finger toward my face, so close I flinched. Then he stomped down the hall, his boots echoing like drumbeats.

I shut the door and pressed my forehead against it, breathing out slowly. same threat, different day.

The apartment looked even smaller when I turned back to it. a shoebox with peeling wallpaper, a heater that wheezed more than it worked, and a bathroom crawling with roaches. I hated it, but it was the last thing I had left.

The sink groaned when I turned the faucet. Brown water spat out before clearing. I splashed my face and studied my reflection in the cracked mirror. Dark circles hung under my eyes. my lips were dry and split. my hair stuck out in tangled knots. I was only twenty-three, but I looked like I had lived twice that long.

Most girls my age had parents. or at least someone who cared.

I didn't.

my aunt had been the only one, she took me in when my mom ran off and my dad disappeared into a bottle. She gave me everything she could. She called me her "little fighter," and said I could get through anything. but cancer didn't care about that. two months ago, I held her hand while she slipped away, and since then, the world had been too quiet.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. The lines spread like a spider web, and sometimes I pretended they were roads on a map, leading anywhere but here. My stomach growled, a low, angry sound. I ignored it.

coffee first. food later. if there was food.

I filled the kettle and set it on the hot plate. It whistled when it boiled, too loud for the tiny room. I poured water over instant powder and sipped too quickly, burning my tongue. The bitter taste was harsh, but it reminded me I was still