Page 2 of Cruel Alpha: Season One

“If I’m going to earn the alpha’s respect tomorrow, I’ll need to dress the part. He’ll never take me seriously if I’m talking social transformation and political strategy while wearing Leavers Lace.”

The pout that curves Aunt Geneva’s lips means I’ve deflated her mood. And to make sure her displeasure is clear, she plops down on my bed with a huff.

“Gods forbid that you actually wear something sensible while standing in the presence of the most important man in our quadrant tomorrow.”

“Iwillbe wearing something sensible,” I counter. “It’s just that your idea of sensibility andminedon’t quite line up.”

Despite my words being spoken gently, she’s silent, stewing in frustration. Her gaze follows as I move toward the chest of drawers, then it sounds like she’s just choked on the entire string of pearls fastened around her neck when I pull out a pair of khaki cargo pants. It’s the cherry on top when I add a neatly folded, white tank to the pile.

“You can’tpossiblybe serious,” she cringes.

A devious grin curves my lips. “Not only am I serious, I’ll also bewearing… wait for it… a ponytail!”

“Someone ring for an ambulance. I might actually faint!” Her voice carries up into the beams of my ceiling when she goes for full drama. “All that lovely raven hair and you’d just rather hogtie it with a rubber band?”

I ignore her rant and fold my outfit before placing it on the valet in the corner.

It’s times like this that I’m reminded of how restrictive our quadrant can be. Here I am, a full adult, under the thumb of my closest living relatives. Simply because Clan Centauri law prohibits young women under the age of thirty from living on their own. All must either reside with their mate or with family. The only exception being if she’s the sole survivor of her bloodline, and also has yet to be selected by a partner. Sure, there are perks to being bonded within a family, but it perpetuates the idea that women are too frail to stand on their own two feet.

And apparently, it also perpetuates the idea that we cannot make clothing selections without the aid of our guardians.

“What on Earth are you two going on about up here?” My uncle pops his head in, pressing his large shoulder against the frame of my door. The bald spot at the crown of his scalp glistens with a clear substance, catching light from my chandelier. I can only guess he’s back on the hunt for an effective hair-growth serum. He gives the appearance of a man half his age—young and virile in almost every way that counts—but his thinning crop has become his mortal enemy.

Clearing my throat to fight back a laugh, I pretend not to notice the goop dripping near his ear.

“Well, your wife is currently pitching a fit because I’m not wearing a ballgown when I?—”

“…visit the High Chamber,” Aunt Geneva cuts in, finishing my sentence. “But it’s not justanyvisit. She’ll be face-to-face with Alpha Caspian, and she plans to wear those godawfulpants with a zillion zippers and pockets to commemorate the occasion.” She pauses to point toward the clothing I’ve folded and set aside. “Just imagine what everyone will think of us if word about this gets out, Mitchell. We’ll be the talk of New Eden. And not in a good way.”

With my back to them, I roll my eyes before speaking. “You’re overreacting. And even if you weren’t, that still wouldn’t be reason enough to present myself to the alpha, or anyone else, as something I’m not.”

I turn just in time to catch Aunt Geneva glaring, having noticed that my tone became more serious.

“I don’t think that’s what we’re saying at all, sweetheart,” my uncle’s gruff voice cuts in.

He’s a big guy, and he had a reputation for being somewhat of a brute in his day. However, he’s gentle with us, his girls—a foursome consisting of my aunt, myself, and their twins Elizabeth and Winifred, both of whom are away at finishing school. I’d envy them for being free of this place, for being allowed to breathe, but who the hell wants to attend finishing school?

“You’re a free spirit, and we love that about you,” Uncle Mitch says, “but maybe consider your aunt’s suggestion. Just this once? Who knows what could come of this whole thing?”

Those words nearly slip past me, but at the last moment, they snag in the tangle of my thoughts. As I begin to process my aunt and uncle’s reactions, my eyes narrow with suspicion, and I meet their gazes, crossing both arms over my chest. There’s hope in my uncle’s eyes, and I’ve seen that look on his face before. It was present when Oliver Cuthbert’s son, Brendan, stopped by to ask Uncle Mitch’s permission to court me last season.

“Why exactly do youthinkAlpha Caspian’s sent for me?”

The two share a look, and without either saying a word, I understand. They think this is some attempt being made by thealpha to express interest in me. Has it seriously not crossed their minds that my hard work has paid off? In addition to writing multiple letters per week, I’ve trained.Hard. Day and night. No, I’m not aspiring to be a soldier, but I know I could one day have a fight on my hands.

I’ve proven myself ready for this opportunity, but it’s still not enough. In their eyes, a woman’s only place is either in some man’s kitchen or his bed. However, being mated, and eventually having children, isn’t every woman’s sole mission in life. While I understand and respect those who feel this is their calling, it simply isn’t mine.

Several prominent figures within the quadrant have gone against the grain of tradition to vouch for me, some going as far as writing letters of recommendation. Eventheyacknowledge my dedication. Yet, my own flesh and blood still see my worth boiled down to what I can someday offer a mate. So, of course, they believe this is all Alpha Caspian will see in me, too.

Despite the sudden sense of defeat, I keep my emotions in check.

“Well, sweetheart, therehasbeen talk of the alpha seeking companionship,” Aunt Geneva says gently. “Now that he’s grown into his role, and things within the quadrant have settled into place, he’s finally in search of mates.”

My brow arches. “Mates? Plural?”

Another of those loaded stares passes between my aunt and uncle.

“I’ll admit, Alpha Caspian has different ideals than his father, but he was bound to be a bit less… traditional… than what we’re accustomed to,” she explains. “However, it’s not unheard of for a male, especially an alpha, to coexist with a harem.”

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