Page 44 of Cruel Alpha: Season Two

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Cats in a Bag

Caspian

Four womenwho have all been declared the crème de la crème of our clan sit primly around my table, and yet, I only see one.

Annalise hasn’t made eye contact with me once since entering the dining hall, which serves as proof that, even after a week, she’s still freezing me out. I could’ve forced my way into her presence days ago, but I had a hunch that would only put me further outside her good graces. So, I took the high road, choosing patience, resisting the urge to push, but damn have I been tempted.

The wait staff enters and pours a second round of wine. Their presence in the room draws attention to the uncomfortable silence. Aside from greeting the Consort Elects when they first arrived on the premises and were escorted into the dining hall, I’ve barely said two words to them. Mostly because I have no interest in bonding with them. As it stands, their role here in the estate will be singular and uncomplicated.

To bear children.

At the thought, Aunt Pen’s voice echoes inside my head, reminding me of the recently discovered loophole. One I’ve gone to bed thinking about every single night. One that haunts me with fantasies of acting out of selfishness, forsaking the greater good of the clan to have what I want.

To have thewomanI want.

“More wine, sir?”

Startled from my thoughts, I glance to my left when a server angles a decanter toward my glass.

“No, thank you.” I offer a polite smile, but it fades the moment the young man sequesters himself to the outskirts of the room. Then, my gaze returns to Annalise.

There she sits, beautiful as ever in a yellow, floral-print dress. It strikes me as being noticeably casual for the occasion—lacking the frills, lace, and crystals that adorn the other ladies’ gowns—but she’s still the most gorgeous woman in the room.

Her hair is different, too. Typically piled high in some arrangement of curls and jewels, it rests on her shoulders tonight, the simplicity of the style complimenting the light dusting of makeup on her face. Truthfully, she doesn’t needanyof it, and I prefer thisversion of her over any other.

From what I’ve heard, she’s had a rather eventful week. Lady Radcliffe sought me out quite dutifully two days ago, distraught by Annalise’s‘rebellious behavior’.At first, I was concerned she’d tried to make good on her threat to run away, but whatactuallytook place calmed my fears. Which was the opposite effect it had on Lady Radcliffe.

News that Annalise had taken the initiative to start a garden, to bring life to an otherwise dead area of the courtyard, was a welcomed surprise. Establishing a garden is quite literally proof that she’s putting down roots here. Not to mention the claim that Annalise‘barked in anger’about how Lady Radcliffe works forher,and not the other way around. While some of the staff might interpret this incident as an act of defiance, I see it quite differently.

I see the lady of the house finally stepping into her rightful place, and… it gives me hope.

“Pardon me. Alpha?”

I shift toward the sound of the brassy voice that’s just called out to me, only to find Wilhemena grinning from ear to ear. I hadn’t paid her much attention before, but since Dimitri and Creed pointed out the rivalry between her and Annalise, I’ve been more alert tonight. And, sure enough, I’ve noticed the sideways glances my brother mentioned.

“Yes?” I finally answer, finishing the last sip of wine in my glass to hide a scowl.

“I’ve heard mention that you enjoy hunting,” Wilhemena says, straightening her posture as her smile grows. “My grandfather, Supreme Arbiter Emory,” she adds proudly, “owns a cabin near Lunar Lake. He says that’s a prime spot for big game. I’d love to visit with you one weekend. Perhaps you can even teach me a thing or two while we’re there. About hunting or… whatever you’d like me to learn.”

I don’t miss the inuendo, and I’m guessing no one else has either.

“I’m sure your grandfather’s cabin is quite nice, Wilhemena. Thank you for the invitation.”

I attempt to take another swig from my glass, only to realize I’ve emptied it. Luckily, the young server I’d refused a moment ago is still nearby and tops me off. I drink half before scanning the room, only to find Annalise visibly angered by Wilhemena’s antics.

Damn it. Damn it all to fucking hell.

I picture Aunt Pen again, but this time, she’s waving the incomplete contract in my face, reminding me that this could all be over so quickly if I’d just forsake my morals. She made it all sound so easy, but that would only be true for a man who lacked any sense of duty or honor. Hence the reason I must keep my focus.

“Ladies,” I say with a deep sigh, trying my best to make my interest in them seem authentic. “I’ve heard that you’ve each got some rather unique hidden talents. I’d love to hear more about that.”

The lie burns leaving my mouth, so I sip more wine. I could actually go my entire life without listening to any of them speak again.

Ever.

“I sing,” Arabella blurts out first. “I was formally trained by the most famous opera singer among all of Clan Centauri, Madam Ellenore Goolsby. My great aunt has known her for years. So, she arranged for six months of private lessons at the start of last spring.”

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