Page 22 of Cruel Alpha: Season One

Archibald’s completely still as I contemplate at the door. While I’m certain I have no choice but to enter, to meet this beast for drinks as he requested, I can’t shake the images of his crueltyfrom my thoughts. Merely an hour ago, he brought Brendan’s life to an end, and that brutal display will forever be emblazoned into my memory.

My gaze lowers to the ridiculous dress I found hanging from the armoire inside a bedroom I’m told is only temporarily mine, until myactualbedroom is prepared. The piece is gold, too elaborate for just drinks, and very… tight. I’m only able to walk because of a long, thigh-high split. Matching gold shoes were laid out as well, but as a small act of defiance, I’ve come to his door barefoot tonight. Perhaps he’ll be infuriated enough to send me back to my room.

One can hope.

A heavy sigh leaves me, and then I knock. No sense in prolonging the inevitable, I suppose. It feels like several hours before the knob twists from the other side. And when the door opens, I draw in a breath.

How can one so wicked be so handsome? He’s cleaned up from tonight’s ordeal. The white shirt he wears isn’t stained with Brendan’s blood, nor the other two who met their end shortly after. As Caspian stands before me, you’d never guess the level of carnage he’s capable of.

And as if he’s just heard my thoughts, he smirks, never breaking eye contact.

“That’ll be all, Archibald. I can handle her from here.”

The amusement in his tone only adds to my annoyance.

“Very well, sir,” Archibald answers, followed by the sound of his descending footsteps.

“Care to join me, Ms. Breedlove?” Caspian asks.

I glare, wondering what happened to him. How can someone be so broken that they’d rather share their life with a woman who absolutely loathes them, than with one capable of returning his affection? But I don’t dare speak this question aloud.Instead, I step into the drawing room, careful to keep any trace of emotion hidden for now.

The door closes behind me as I observe. It’s a long, sprawling space—the walls, floor, and ceiling are outfitted in the same deep, rich wood as the rest of the estate. Tall, floor-to-ceiling windows let in moonlight because Caspian hasn’t drawn the curtains. A blaze roars in the fireplace. I spot two empty glasses and a bottle of what I can assume to be expensive wine resting on a table between two armchairs.

He's set the scene, that’s for sure, but I’m not moved. Not by him, this setting, nor his feigned chivalry.

“Will you sit with me?”

He gestures toward the seats just ahead, a charming gleam in his eyes. I don’t bother answering, instead going right to the seat and dropping down into it. The already tight dress feels even more snug at my hips now, so I hike it up just a few inches to get some relief. I don’t realize Caspian’s eyes are on me until he comes around to his own seat, scanning my figure with a look that makes me feel exposed.

Completely naked.

“Did the shoes not fit?”

I peer down at my feet, and then shrug. “Wouldn’t know. I never touched them.”

The corner of his mouth quirks. “Well, regardless, you look lovely this evening.” The smooth words drip off his tongue like butter.

“And you’re nowhere near as bloody as you were just an hour ago.”

His smile spreads at the only semblance of a compliment he’ll be hearing from me. But then that look in his eyes darkens when he asks a question.

“Did my behavior tonight disturb you?”

“I found it repulsive, actually. A disgusting display of egotism that likely set our clan back a few decades,” I hiss. “Under Alpha Evander’s reign we were a civilized people. But now, we’re a people who celebrate barbarianism. So, kudos to you, I suppose.”

I’m winded, unable to breathe because he positively infuriates me. It only angers me more that there’s always a smug grin on his face. And I’m also positive he’s only ever heard about five percent of the words that leave my mouth because he’s always,alwaysstaring at my breasts.

“Are you finished?” My question has his eyes finally leaving my cleavage and rising to meet my gaze.

“Finished?” he asks. “We’re just getting started, Little Wolf.” He smirks, not even bothering to pretend he wasn’t gawking. He reaches for the bottle resting on the small table between us, then fills both glasses halfway. “Drink. It’ll settle you.”

“What will settle me is being done with this. You can force me to stay here, you can even force me to accept the title as your mate, but you can’t force me to like any of it.”

His glare is hard and unyielding, and he squeezes his glass so hard I half expect it to break in his hand.

“Fine. If you want every interaction between us to be nothing more than a cold transaction, have it your way,” he snaps. “But it’ll only make your time here more difficult.”

My jaw ticks with rage, but I hold it all in, choosing instead to down the wine in one gulp instead of savoring it. Maybe if I’m intoxicated, I can tolerate him.

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