Cruel Alpha, Season One (Wolves of New Eden #1)

9. Drinks for Two

9

Drinks for Two

Annalise

“Right this way, ma’am.”

My eyes flit to Archibald when he steps aside, extending his hand toward a set of large, wooden doors. They nearly stretch the entire height of the soaring ceilings. The walk here was eerie enough—with the candlelit corridors and near total silence—and now as I stand here, my pulse thrums at the hollow of my throat.

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 cruelty from 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 my actual bedroom 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, always staring 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.

“Let’s get on with it then, shall we?”

“Yes, let’s,” I echo.

There’s this vein in the center of his forehead that’s been throbbing the last thirty seconds, and it excites me knowing I’m currently the source of his stress.

His eyes linger on me a moment, before slowly shifting to the fire. “You’ll need to know the details of our arrangement. I’m sure you can understand that I have certain expectations.”

“Oh, of course!”

His eyes dart toward me again, annoyance flaring in his expression, which means my sarcasm wasn’t lost on him.

“After breakfast tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to the staff,” he says. “The sooner you get acclimated to them the better. They’re the backbone of this home.”

I nearly scoff at his use of that word.

Home.

“Perhaps the most important person you’ll meet will be Mrs. Waverly. She’s a renowned dressmaker and wife to our head of security, Sir Thomas Waverly. She was brought on board just this week now that you’ll be living here. It only seemed fitting that you’d have your very own seamstress at your disposal. No mate of mine will ever want for anything.”

I feel his eyes on me, but I choose to keep mine trained on the fire instead.

“And speaking of dresses, you’ll want to keep in mind that your first event is fast approaching. Which means Mrs. Waverly will likely be in and out quite often this week, bringing in fabric samples for your approval, and?—”

“Wait… event?” My brow furrows.

He nods casually, sipping his wine. “Yes, the Starlight and Silk Soiree. It’s a… coming out party of sorts. It’ll be the first time I’ll present you to the clan as my mate.”

I can only scowl at him and, of course, he laughs.

“What’s the matter? Wait, don’t tell me. Among a myriad of other things, you also hate fancy dresses and luxurious gatherings in your honor?”

He’s teasing me and it’s patronizing as fuck. “What I don’t like is pretending,” I hiss. “This whole thing is one big farce.”

He turns away, arching a brow when he shrugs. “Nevertheless, the party is already on the social calendar, so as far as the coordinator, Lady Radcliffe, is concerned, it’s as good as etched in stone.”

Caspian’s lips part when he’s about to speak again, but pauses when I reach for the wine bottle and fill my glass to the brim. I set it down with a thud and prepare myself to listen to more of his bullshit.

“Why don’t I begin by listing your liberties,” he says. “You’re free to come and go as you please. I don’t believe it’s necessary to keep you locked away. Not only do I have eyes and ears everywhere , I’ve made it very clear what disobedience will cost you.”

His warning brings to mind what Aunt Geneva shared. That he’d do away with my entire family just to teach me a lesson. So, considering the consequences, no, locks and chains aren’t necessary.

“You’ll be afforded this privilege until you prove yourself unworthy of it,” he adds, and then moves on. “Starting today, you have an unlimited monthly stipend—for clothing, jewelry, and whatever else you might like to acquire. You’ll also never have to lift a finger. All cleaning and tending to your personal effects will be taken care of by the staff, and soon, you’ll be able to select your maidens. They’ll be tasked with keeping you company, but they’ve also been trained to wait on you hand and foot.”

He finishes and then pours himself more wine.

“And now, the rules.”

My heart sinks with his words, but I hope my expression hasn’t betrayed me.

“Rule number one: I demand your loyalty—your unfaltering, impeccable allegiance to me. As this clan’s alpha and ultimate authority, I’ll have it no other way. This decree is nonnegotiable, Annalise. And to avoid any possible confusion, this means I expect your complete support of my decisions, and you’re never to question my authority in the presence of others. Is that understood?”

I meet his gaze and find that cold stare is back. “Whatever you wish, Alpha.”

Again, my snide tone gets under his skin, and I love every second of it.

“Rule number two,” he practically growls. “I demand your obedience. Every command, every order I give, you’re to follow it without question, resistance, or hesitation.”

Sweat beads along my hairline, shaken by the sheer audacity of this asshole. “If you wanted a pet, why not send your minions to fetch you one? I’m certain whatever mutt you choose would be a hell of a lot easier to break than me.”

Right away, I regret speaking out of turn. My big, stupid mouth is going to be the death of me one day. But… I couldn’t help it, couldn’t sit here, listening to his list without speaking up.

Surprisingly, there’s no longer anger in his expression. There’s something else. Something I can’t quite put my finger on, but it makes me feel naked again.

“You’re right. A pet would be nice. Perhaps a puppy,” he says. “But something tells me you’re all the bitch I can handle, Annalise.”

I’m insulted, but for some stupid reason, I’m fighting a smile.

“Dick,” I mumble to myself, too quietly for him to have heard, so he moves on with his rules.

“Rule number three: I expect you to adhere to protocol at all times.”

“Protocol?”

“Three are of more importance than the others, but they’ll all be typed up and left beneath your door by morning. It’s important that you read them, commit them to memory, and execute them impeccably,” he says, grating my nerves with every syllable that leaves his mouth. “One, in public, you’re to address me with respect, as your alpha. Two, we’re to always portray a public display of unity—that includes hand holding, being at my side during formal events. Three, I require your exclusive attention. This means I will never tolerate disloyalty or flirtatious behavior toward other men. Ever,” he adds, and I’m dumbfounded because…

“Meanwhile, you’ll take on several mates, as I sit idly by, being perfectly meek and humble as I wait dutifully at the feet of the all-powerful alpha?”

Shit… I didn’t mean to say that out loud. And seeing how redness spreads across his face, I’m guessing he could’ve done without me saying it, too.

“You hate me,” he says. “You’ve made that crystal clear on every occasion possible. So, is it simply your ego that makes the idea of me taking on more than one mate unfavorable to you? Or… is it something else. Jealousy, perhaps?”

My lips part, and my body is all tension and frustration as I prepare to speak. But Caspian cuts me off before I’ve had the chance.

“Before you answer, bear in mind that I have an excellent sense of smell,” he says. “So, you may also want to explain why you’ve gotten considerably wetter since sitting beside me.”

My mouth clamps shut. I’ve got the urge to adjust in my seat, but he might misread my squirming for me being turned on. At the thought of it, I’m also now more aware of the seat of my panties being damp, which means…

No, he’s wrong.

This has nothing to do with him and everything to do with being at the height of mating season.

He takes my silence as a sign. One that points toward there possibly being some truth to his accusation. And as much as I hate the idea of it, he could be right. Not about my being jealous, but the part about me… being wet for him.

A hint of a smirk curves his lips and the timing of it has me wondering if he’s heard my thoughts.

“You saw me at my worst today, but there’s more to me,” he claims, and his tone is far gentler than before. “Whether you believe this or not, I’d much rather have you respect me than fear me.”

His words flutter into my thoughts, and they surprise me. Because his every action has seemingly been to induce fear and subordination, which could be a testament to how his social skills have been distorted by his position of power.

“Come to me.”

My brow quirks, hearing Caspian’s command, but not quite grasping it. It takes several seconds, and a reminder of the rules that were just recited to me before I finally rise from my seat. The entire trek from my chair to his, Caspian’s eyes are glued to me, every place the form-fitted dress hugs my figure.

But unlike before, I’m not immediately repulsed.

I could easily blame the shift in perspective on the abundance of wine in my system. But honestly? I’m growing suspicious that, maybe… there might be something else at play.