Claimed by the Vengeful Alpha

Chapter 106: Whatever You Can Give Me

"You want me. Y-you married me," Maya muttered, her eyes darted around but couldn’t look at him.

She clasped her hands tightly together in her lap, ignoring the pain in her right hand from gripping too hard. Her heart was threatening to jump out of her chest. She couldn’t believe what she was doing.

He was going to leave the room. The conflict would have ended. But she wouldn’t have been satisfied, and despite her fears, she was angry.

She knew she had no right, but it was hard to stop the boiling in her chest. Her uncertainty had condensed into a hot ball that she didn’t want anymore. It didn’t matter what she did; she got nothing from him and she was tired of it.

His right eye twitched, and he stepped even closer. Close enough that his foot would touch the bed if he stretched it out, but it still wasn’t close enough for her.

"You seem to misunderstand," he said as he glared down at her sitting on the bed.

Maya didn’t know what sort of expression she had on her face, and to be frank, she didn’t care—because right now, Keenan was looking at her.

"This is not some love marriage. I want you to be as miserable as you made me—"

"And you seem to have a problem with me letting you do just that," she cut in.

Keenan stepped back as he stared at her with disbelief. "Ha, isn’t that funny?"

But it was clear he didn’t find her response amusing in the slightest. There was not a hint of amusement in his eyes; rather, they looked darker than she had ever seen them.

Maya tried to stay still as he stepped closer. The air around him seemed to have changed, and she wondered if she was biting off more than she could chew. But she didn’t want to back down.

Had they ever had any conversation like this before—or any conversation for that matter? If it ended before he could see reason, wouldn’t that mean she was back at the starting line?

She didn’t like it here. She wanted to take a step forward, even if it was in the wrong direction—anything to bring them a little closer.

"Aren’t you full of yourself, Lady Maya? Thinking you can take my anger."

His tone was condescending, downright insulting. "I haven’t broken yet, have I?" She mumbled, looking away again.

He laughed—a shallow laugh that only seemed to enhance the darkness in his eyes. "I haven’t done anything," he mocked.

"Why?" She snapped and looked right at him. "Am I not the one you hate? The one you won’t forgive? And here I am. Do something about it. Or don’t I suffice?"

His lips formed a thin line, and the darkness in his eyes grew. She had said those words on purpose—a callback to when she had first offered herself.

"Are you trying to make up for your crimes? Do you think this will make up for the scar on my chest?"

Maya winced. The heat in her chest was spreading. His scar was something she would never get away from. She knew that, but hearing it from him directly hurt so deeply.

"Why do you care?" She shot back, making sure to keep the tears at bay.

His brows furrowed. "I don’t," he muttered coldly.

"Really? Because it sounds to me like your revenge isn’t that important. It sounds like it can take a backseat."

"Shut up!" He yelled and grabbed her injured shoulder.

Maya bit the inside of her mouth to keep from screaming out in pain. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, and he let her go immediately.

"You’re delirious," he said and marched away from the bed.

She grabbed her injured right hand. He wouldn’t even be mean to her. He’d rather ignore her. Here she was, offering to take all of it, and he wasn’t going to give even his anger to her.

"You’re running away," she muttered. He couldn’t leave her again. How many times had he done that already?

"I am not running away," he stated.

"Then stay!"

"What do you want from me?!" He yelled and turned around to look at her.

Maya tilted her head; she couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. "Whatever you can give me."

What am I saying? What am I doing?

It was getting out of hand, but she couldn’t stop now—not until she had some certainty. Something. Anything.

"Nothing," he whispered. It was cold the way he said it, unfeeling.

Maya’s expression fell at his words. She slowly let go of her arm. It still hurt from where he had pressed on it, but it wasn’t nearly as painful as the ache in her chest.

She wiped her face and removed the pillow from behind her. She had asked him, and she had gotten her answer, hadn’t she?

She lay on her left side, turning away from him as she closed her eyes. She hoped she could fall asleep quickly, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to.

Keenan didn’t like this. It didn’t feel pleasant. It was all for his revenge. That was it. But it didn’t feel like the point anymore. He was getting roped in again to what she wanted.

He was angry. Why was she willing to take what he would dish out? It ruined the purpose. It felt like he was once again being manipulated.

He wanted to leave, but the way her face crumpled as he said "nothing" made his scar itch. It was his scar—the one she had given him. It was her fault.

He didn’t know why he did it. He should have just gone to his study room and left her alone. But he was exhausted from the journey, and it would be easier to sleep on the bed. More comfortable.

Excuses!

He knew better than anyone. Despite this, he climbed onto the bed and pulled the blanket over himself, his back turned away from her.

"Goodnight, Alpha Keenan."

"Don’t speak to me."