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

15. Happy Birthday, Darling

15

Happy Birthday, Darling

Annalise

“This really isn’t necessary.”

My words seem to fall on deaf ears as Lady Gilreath continues fussing over me, feathering a brush across my cheeks over and over again.

She’s never one to overdo my makeup, so that isn’t my concern. It’s simply that I can’t see the point in wearing makeup at all when my destination isn’t some expensive restaurant or a night on the town. I merely headed downstairs to the dining room, where I’ll be joined by my maidens for a spread of my favorite foods.

Lady Gilreath steps back, admiring her work for a moment before a satisfied grin stretches across her face.

“There. Perfection.”

A relieved sigh leaves me, but it’s short lived when she grabs the brush from my vanity.

“And now, to do something with this hair of yours.”

“No!”

Her eyes stretch wide when I shout, but I only meant to stop her, not offend her. So, I soften the harshness I just aimed at her with a smile.

“You’ve already done enough, Lady Gilreath, and I appreciate it. But my hair is fine.”

The bridge of her nose wrinkles. “But… there aren’t any curls.”

Her innocence is jarring and it’s as though she truly believes the lack of volume in my hair will somehow trigger a disaster of catastrophic proportions.

Fighting a laugh, I blink at her through the mirror’s reflection. “Yes, I know. But I’m already pleased with it.”

“But today’s your birthday, Ms. Breedlove. And although you’ve gone out of your way to make such a special occasion feel like just an ordinary day… that simply isn’t true, Ma’am.”

She moves a hand through a small section of my hair, letting strands fall over my shoulder as they slip between her fingers. She loathes straight ‘boring’ hair, but she backs off, and I’m grateful.

“Suit yourself. Shall I help you into your dress at least?”

Hanging on the door of the armoire is the dress she speaks of. It’s elaborate and expensive like all the rest, but I’m not in the mood. Yes, today may be my birthday, and I understand that my maidens and staff only mean to make me feel special. But for some reason, all I want out of today is to feel… normal.

“You know, I believe I’ve changed my mind about the dress, too.”

“Dear gods…” she sighs, drawing another smile from me when she lowers to the settee like a damsel in distress.

I can feel her eyes on me as I rummage through the wide drawer beneath the armoire. It’s where my clothes from home were stored.

“This should do.”

I pull out a pair of white jeans, a white body suit with long sleeves, and a taupe cardigan that matches the polish on my fingers and toes. When I face Lady Gilreath, holding the change of clothes in my hands, she blinks but says nothing. That feels like a win to me, so I slip out of my robe, toss it to the side, then put on what I’ve chosen to wear.

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but what shoes will you be pairing with this ensemble, Ma’am?”

“That’s actually the best part, Lady Gilreath. Get this… I won’t be wearing any.”

“This is absurd,” she complains, but I ignore her and look myself over in the mirror. No, it’s not one of the ornate gowns I’ve been paraded around in lately, but it’s actually my favorite thing I’ve worn in months.

“Shall we head down to the dining room?”

Lady Gilreath’s face pales with the realization that she’s been bested, then she tosses her hands up in defeat, leading me to the door. On the other side, Archibald stands poised. He’s been there for nearly half an hour, waiting to escort me. I follow him through the winding corridors, down the grand staircase, and through more of the twisting passageways.

The doors to the dining room are shut, but the aroma of fresh baked bread and a combination of sweet and savory selections waft out from underneath. I hear the light chatter of my maidens, and it hits me how much I’ve been looking forward to this. A small gathering of friends and family, good food, and clothes I can wear without needing assistance every time I need to use the facilities.

Heaven.

“Enjoy your meal and happy birthday, Ms. Breedlove,” Archibald croons, and I nod at him with a smile.

“Thank you very much.”

He nods back, and I hold my breath as he twists the knobs of both doors, then pulls them open. However, what awaits me just beyond the threshold comes as a total surprise.

Or should I say… who awaits me on the other side comes as a total surprise.

I scan all the faces. There are at least ten of them. Maybe more. Yes, my maidens are present, but so are a handful of friends I’ve known since grade school, along with Aunt Geneva and Uncle Mitch, and of course… Caspian.

A breath hitches in my throat when our eyes lock.

Yes, he’s handsome and well dressed as always, but that isn’t what stalls my heart. It’s that look of confident hope in his eyes that does it. He wants me to see what he’s done. He wants me to be pleased with it.

And the thoughtful gesture truly does warm my heart.

“Happy birthday!” the crowd erupts, and I’m bombarded with hugs and well wishes the next second. I don’t think I’ve been squeezed so tightly in my entire life.

Aunt Geneva and Uncle Mitch are nearly the last to make their way over. Their reluctance doesn’t come as a shock. We haven’t exactly been on the best terms lately, and if it were up to me, their names wouldn’t have been on the guestlist at all , but perhaps we can temporarily bury the hatchet to get through today.

“Happy birthday to my beautiful niece,” Aunt Geneva croons.

“Thank you.” My jaw tenses with the words, but I force a smile to mask it.

“We were so pleased to have received an invitation!”

I nod, pretending to share in her joy, meanwhile I’m almost certain what she was most pleased with was that she’ll now be able to brag at tea about having dined in the estate.

Uncle Mitch pulls me into a gentle hug before escorting Aunt Geneva back to their seats. Then, the alpha and I are standing face-to-face.

A slight smile curves his lips as he steps closer, and I recall how his kindness has gradually begun to shine through more. And despite myself, despite my declaration to avoid letting emotion seep into our arrangement, I fear it’s working.

“Happy birthday, my darling queen,” he whispers against my ear.

I try to resist the urge to melt into him, but I fail, my form molding against his as we embrace.

We separate after a few lingering moments in one another’s arms, and I realize we’ve captured everyone’s attention. Clearing my throat, I avoid locking eyes with my guests again as Caspian leads me to the seat at the head of the table and pulls it out for me. When I lower onto the cushion, it’s Aunt Geneva’s gaze that meets mine, and there’s no missing how pleased she is with what she’s just seen.

While this shouldn’t get under my skin, it does, knowing she’s probably thinking the end has justified the means, but that will never be the case. There will never be a time where whatever measure of happiness or contentment I find here will make up for what she and my uncle did to me.

I feel my mood souring and correct it, forcing out thoughts of ‘family’. Instead, I glance around, taking in the dessert table in the corner, which holds a beautiful pink cake stacked three tiers high. Surrounding it on clear platforms of varying sizes, are platters of colorful cupcakes. Another table in the opposite corner holds a pile of gifts all wrapped in gold paper, and the ceiling is blocked out by countless gold and pink balloons.

“Everything is so beautiful,” I say, turning to Caspian as our guests begin to talk among themselves.

His hand finds mine beneath the table, and he gives it a gentle squeeze. “I would’ve gone bigger, but I’ve come to learn that small, subtle gestures seem to please you more.”

My heart flutters inside my chest, but a deep breath steadies it. Then, a smile touches my lips as I glance toward the table full of gifts again.

“Small and subtle?” I arch a brow. “While I’m certain some of those are from guests, I have a feeling most will have your name on the tags.”

He lowers his head with a laugh, and I’ll be damned if he didn’t just give me butterflies.

“It’s possible that you’re right,” he admits, “but there is one gift in particular I think we’ll both agree is in line with my claim.”

He reaches beside his chair and shows me a small bag. It’s a simple brown, paper bag with handles, piquing my curiosity.

“It doesn’t twinkle or shine like the trinkets and jewelry I plan to watch you unwrap this evening, but… I think you’ll like it just as much.”

I blink at him, trying not to feel overwhelmed before I’ve even peeked inside, but when I reach in and feel the coarse fabric and leather binding of a book against my skin, my heart races again.

I lift it out and scan the cover.

“ The Complete Fairytale Collection of Joseph Terrell ,” I say aloud, trailing the grooves of the embossed title with my fingertips.

“It’s a first edition. And it includes works that haven’t been published elsewhere,” Caspian adds.

I don’t miss the hint of nervousness in his voice. As though he isn’t entirely sure he made a good choice. But when I lift out of my seat just enough to hug him in his, I think he knows.

“This is absolutely perfect.”

The whispered words leave my mouth as his arms tighten around me. It never crossed my mind that he had the capacity to be so thoughtful, but I’m learning there are many layers to our alpha.

This time, when I return to my seat, the guests don’t even pretend they weren’t focused on us.

“I apologize for monopolizing the birthday girl’s attention. I suppose my excitement over her gift got the best of me,” Caspian explains.

“By all means, spoil her all you want. She deserves it,” Aunt Geneva chimes in, and it seems she can’t say anything right, because even this grates on my nerves.

“Indeed, she does,” Caspian replies, finding my hand beneath the table again. Surprisingly enough, it calms me.

“Mitchel and I were pleasantly surprised by the announcement you made at the Starlight and Silk Soiree, Alpha Caspian. Alpha Regent is such a… a lofty title to be bestowed on a Clan Centauri woman.”

My eyes dart to her when she makes the distinction. Not just a lofty title period, but rather a lofty title for a woman.

It isn’t until Caspian places his other hand on top of mine that I realize I’ve begun digging my nails into his flesh.

“Yes, well… I suppose this is a new day. And despite what she might think, I’ve been listening to Annalise’s argument for reconsidering some of the clan’s more… what’s that word you’ve used, darling?”

“Archaic.”

He smiles when I say the word with a hint of bite. “Ah, yes. I’ve begun reconsidering some of our more archaic traditions.”

I’m filled with surprise to hear that he’s even entertained the idea, but the moment comes to a screeching halt when Uncle Mitch mumbles something under his breath to my aunt. It doesn’t take long to realize he’s attempting to stop her from speaking out of turn, but she ignores his plea and speaks anyway.

“Well, I wouldn’t call our traditions archaic,” she says. “I’m a firm believer in there being order. And having our men lead—in every sense of the word—has been what’s kept Clan Centauri at the apex of wolfkind for centuries. Forgive me for saying so, but I do implore you to be mindful of what fantasies you allow my niece to plant inside your head. She’s always been a bit of a… a dreamer, if you will. And let’s not forget that you’re her superior, head of this home. It’d be a shame for her or anyone to poison your already flawless logic.”

You could hear a pin drop.

And as I slowly turn to face Aunt Geneva, I believe she realizes she’s just crossed the line.

“Leave.”

I’m calm when that single word escapes my mouth, but I can’t promise that will last.

“Sweetheart, I only mean that if?—”

My palm slams the table when I stand, shutting her up mid-sentence. “Leave!”

The room falls completely silent again, and I’m so angry my wolf’s growl vibrates in my chest.

Aunt Geneva’s gaze shifts toward Caspian, as if to silently ask if he plans to control me, his bitch, but I’m not having it.

“Don’t you dare look to him,” I snap. “This is my home now, thanks to a very valiant effort on your part, and I’d like for you to leave it. Actually, on second thought, I demand it.”

I aim my finger toward the doorway, but my eyes never leave them. In my peripheral, I’m aware of the smirk forming on Caspian’s lips.

“Annalise, you can’t be serious! We’re guests here!” Aunt Geneva protests, but I couldn’t be more serious. Her eyes flit to Caspian again. “Are you going to allow her to speak to us this way?”

Caspian settles deeper into his seat, his gaze staying trained on me. The smirk is still there, but it’s so slight I’m not even certain anyone notices it but me.

“I believe the lady of the house has spoken,” he answers. “Leave. Immediately. Archibald will fetch whatever belongings you came with.”

My aunt gasps in true dramatic fashion, and lingers in her seat a moment longer, as if to give either Caspian or I a chance to correct our decision. But when that doesn’t happen, Uncle Mitch helps her out of her seat. They’re halfway to the double doors when Aunt Geneva retraces her steps to collect their gift for me from the table, and Tabatha snickers at the sheer pettiness of it all.

My only regret, the only thing I’m sorry for, is that my cousins had to witness this.

Aunt Geneva’s angry steps echo down the corridor, and I already feel lighter having her and my uncle gone. Our guests whisper among themselves when I step out of the room, needing a chance to cool off, but a second set of footsteps follow me out.

“Are you alright?”

I nod, hugging myself as my back falls against the wall. “Yes, I just… She’s…”

Words fail me, and Caspian steps closer, his hands resting against my hips.

“I should’ve known better than to invite them. I owe you an apology.”

I don’t speak. I’m still unsettled because my wolf is so unsettled, but I’m not angry with him. The target of my frustration is definitely my aunt and uncle, but half a second later, I’m hardly thinking of them.

Caspian invades my space even more, until there isn’t a gap between us at all, and I’m surprised to feel the stiffness of his cock against me.

“Perhaps I was wrong,” he says. “Maybe submissive isn’t the look that best suits you after all, Alpha Regent.”

I’m taken aback that he’s found anything about this situation… exciting.

“You’re hot as fucking sin when you rage. You know that?” His lips graze the rim of my ear, prompting a trail of heat to blaze its way up my spine. While turning him on certainly hadn’t been my goal, it’s telling.

He professes to desire a mate who falls in line and never goes against the grain, but I’m beginning to believe he’s more complex than that. Perhaps his true match is a mate who bites back when wounded, even if the hand she sometimes sinks her teeth into will be his own.

He may never admit such a thing out loud, but based on the hot steel pressed against my body… I’m thoroughly convinced of it.