Page 8 of Alpha Hunger

“A bicycle? Because I will pedal to work. Excellent for my health, because hello, exercise, and it also doesn’t emit bad gasses into the atmosphere. Winner.”

“Hound. The end. Period, and not the bloody kind. You are over two hours behind on my list. If you refuse to work, I will punish you.”

He means fire me or suspend me. Right? The hound tilts her head and whines.

I take another hesitant step back.

“Anna, turn around and walk as if she isn’t there. I promise she will not hurt you.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear it. Though I don’t appreciate you questioning me in the first place. Don’t do it again.”

Jesus. Okay, okay.I take a deep breath and compose myself. I can soooo do this. I spin on my heel and bolt, round the benches in the small green park, come to the pedestrian sidewalk, and sprint, working those heels, mainly hoping they don’t break. I make it to the laundry room door, barge inside, and shut it. It’s a glass door, and I see the hound has stayed in her place, head tilted as if confused. Yawning, she lies down, seemingly content to stay there.Good.This is good.

“Breaking an ankle would be unfortunate,” the prince coos in my ear.

Can I mute him? I take out the com unit and press my finger on the fingerprint-reading part, then tap it a few times. It lights up as if it did something. I stick it back into my ear. “Mute.”

“Excuse me?” the prince says.

“Oh, nothing,” I swat my hand through the air. “I was thinking out loud.”

“Mm-hm.”

A man in his forties with a mustache and warm brown eyes steps forward with a smile, looking me up and down. “Hey, girl,” he says. “You the new PA?”

“I am.”

“What happened to Franky?”

I shrug. “Don’t know.”

“Well, come on in, girlfriend.” He stares up at the digital clock. “You’re late.” He smirks. “Did that on purpose?”

“No. Why?”

“Because the prince threatens discipline. Believe me, I’ve tried to get disciplined many times. No luck. But a girl like you…” He waggles his eyebrows. I’m not gonna read into these sexual innuendoes about the prince. At all. I’ve got enough going on right now.

The man gets behind the desk and pulls up his holoscreen, pokes some numbers on it. “Christy,” he hollers. “New PA is here.” They must not have com units.

Footsteps sound, and “Christy” parts the curtains behind the counter and walks up to me. He’s six feet tall, wears black leather pants, a black corset, a black wig, six-inch platforms, and a fully made-up face. Lipstick, eye shadow, long fake lashes, the works. He smiles wide and shows me his perfect teeth. I’m caught staring as he passes me the black clothes holder.

“See something you like?” he asks.

Heat crawls up my face. “Maybe. How do you walk on those platforms?”

“Practice makes perfect.” He shushes me with his hand. “Off with you, PA. You’re late.”

“Everyone keeps saying that. It’s my first day.”

Christy leans an elbow on the counter. “Honey, on my first day, I came at eight thirty instead of eight and didn’t have the clothing ready at nine thirty. At five p.m., as I looked forward to leaving, the doors locked, and the laundry room stayed locked for five days, during which time I did not eat or drink and only had myself as company. If you are late, he will starve you, maybe to death, maybe not.”

Swallowing, I exit the laundry room and walk at a brisk pace back toward the office, hoping I won’t have to walk too much today. I used the bonus to pay for better security around our home, or I’d have bought new shoes.

The hound sits where I left her. From the opposite side, I round the space gate, heading for the office building and see another Hordesman standing by the open manhole of the sewer system. I should move, leave, go about my business but I can’t. I stop and stare at the maleness that are these Hordesmen. Good Lord.

Alpha males guarding the space gate greet him and pat his back. A hound approaches and the male digs into the sack hanging from the hound’s saddle. He retrieves a tube, opens it, and smears red paint on his chest. This one we call Terror after the War Horseman.

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