Rejection on the Alpha #1

CHAPTER 4: Darkling History Untold

I scowl at Martin, “This pack is like walking into a bloody Game of Thrones season.” I spit, grabbing the cape completely, and was about to move towards the stairs when Reina grabbed my arm once more. After the trip we just returned from, Martin decided a few freaking changes were needed. First, my fucking living quarters.

“You won’t be with Miranda anymore. You have a room in the west wing.” She says to me.

My lips curl, and I rip my arm away once again. I turn back and strut up the stairs, ignoring their burning eyes. I rip open the main door and slam it shut. I hold my stomach as it clenches. I growl lowly as the pain strengthens. I fist my hand, descending carefully down the stairs.

I step towards Miranda’s room. She sits there, reading.

She stands in shock, giving me a wide-eyed look. I make certain that I’m still completely covered, “I need to borrow a few pieces of clothing.” I murmur.

She nods immediately, “Yes, of course. Are you preparing for breakfast?”

I merely nod as I move toward the bathroom. I had a quick shower, deciding on the leather tights and dark brown shirt, tight as well. When I stepped out of the bathroom, leather boots were situated in Miranda’s hands. She blinks and looks at me, “Do you like wearing boots?” She asks me.

I wordlessly reach for them, and she grins and hands them to me. I slide them on.

She looks at me closely as I finish. I clench my jaw tightly, my fists tightening, as she gestures towards the door.

I kick the doors open and strut down the hall, starving and exhausted. A rough hand grabs mine, I rip mine out of his, “Leave me alone.” I spit at Martin, who followed me.

My back is slammed against a wall. My eyes widen at what he’s done as he towers over me. I struggle against his grip on my waist. I trail my eyes to his.

His jaw ticks, “Stop running from me.” He whispers through clenched teeth.

I raise an eyebrow at our position before wringing my knee up and connecting it with the place it’ll hurt the most for him. He doesn’t grunt or even blink—No, he bows low against me and breathes out a painful gasp before sliding to take a seat on the couch next to us, against the wall.

I sit next to him, “Well, that was disconcerting. You’re telling me that a mere knee to that specific part of your anatomy rendered you into this—a barely breathing, winded, and spineless idiot. Martin, I thought you were better than that, or did you just not think I’d certainly hit you there?” I ask him.

He opens one eye and looks at me with a pissed-off expression.

I shrug, before patting his shoulder, “You should have reigned in your wolf and not rip the dungeon down. I would have been able to handle my heat had you not shown strength against such a bloody annoying thing.” I say, sitting up and moving to a stand. A hand grabs mine and rips me into his lap.

My nose taps his.

He wraps his arm across my back, curls his hand around my thigh, and pulls me closer so my side is flush with his chest.

I give him a flat look, “You’re quite the pervert.”

“You’re quite the minx.” He says to me.

I raise an eyebrow, “I beg to differ.”

“I don’t.” He says.

I trail my eyes to silver irises that stare into my emerald ones with an indecipherable look.

I turn and grip his shoulders. If he’s surprised regarding what I do next...he doesn’t show it as I move to straddle him, staring up at him as he stills and tenses. I grip his shoulders, “Why don’t we turn this into a game?” I wiggle my eyebrows.

“Elaborate.”

I lean back, “If I win, you set me free with my own ticket back home,” I say first, gesturing it out to him. His hands slide up my black leather tights. Smoothly with a fluttering touch of his fingerprints, he points at himself. I flick my hair over my shoulder and lean in closer, a mere breath away from his lips, “—if you win...I will do and become whatever your dark heart desires. A loving bonder, a true mate, a great Alpha female, and a candidate by your eternal side. I’ll be everything you want?” I suggest, hating every moment of this transaction.

He cups my cheek, “Do you think I want you to become my slave? My bed warmer?” He whispers.

I slap his hand away, “It wouldn’t matter, but if I win—you give me the coordinates out of here and back to my home. Do we have a deal?” I slowly smile, risking a hand in the middle.

He raises an eyebrow, “What is the deal first?” He asks me.

I roll my eyes, “It will be a series of events, ones of my own choosing and yours—if you must acquire it. The first game will be truth or dare. You can have the first pick, Alpha Julius. Truth or dare?” I ask him, watching him painstakingly slow I was close to yawning.

He sighs and gets comfortable, leaning forward with his hands sliding to my waist, “Truth.” He murmurs, watching me closely.

I tilt my head, leaning backward, and he glances down with a small smile. I let go of his shoulders and thought, “Is there a computer room in this castle?” I ask him first.

He trails his finger along my outer thigh, “No, Celeste. There is not.”

I give him a dirty look, “Keep speaking like you’re in a play for Shakespeare. It’s so bloody romantic.” I say to him sarcastically.

He outright chuckles, “Why didn’t you show this side of you when we first met?” He murmurs with a small smile.

I fold my arms, “It’s your turn.”

He sighs in defeat, “Truth, or dare?”

I smirk, “Dare.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Have a duel with me?” He asks me, leaning further forward, I shove him back against the seat, pursing my lips. I sit up off of him, folding my arms.

“Show me the way to the gym,” I mutter, blowing out a puff of air in entangled annoyance.

He smiles, “Not to hurt one another. I just want to see how you fight.” He murmurs, giving me a soft look. I give him a blank one, ensuring hidden anger rules down the pathetic ink in my skin.

I heard the grunts, flesh pounding on flesh as he nodded to the two enforcers, whose eyes widened at the sight of both Alphas. Only Martin stays further in front of me, not too far, but enough to greet the many males and females training. Weights and wooden swords clanged against metal, yet no scent of silver was in the air. I saw males lifting blocks of ice to show their strength. Not a single one was out of shape. I study them closely as Martin leaps onto the mat, not needing the steps. He earns whistles and hollers from multiple females.

It was interesting to watch. Only I kept my facial expression as neutral as physically possible.

My target readied himself, revealing his surprise as the horn sounds and roars hit the atmosphere when we began. My eyes focused on his every contraction as I attacked him first, without stopping or halting. Growls snapped out of my throat as I hit him across the cheek several times as he tried hard to deflect and dodge.

I confuse him with a serious of fast moves before sending a roundhouse kick down against his cheek, eliciting another growl against his chest. He drops to his hands and knees, the stench of his blood in the air. I snap his head to the side with another hit as my eyes widen in the air. He breathes out as he spits a gulp of blood against the mat. My eyes were red-hazed

He wipes his mouth, slowly coming to a stand from his kneel, “You’re fighting with anger.” He whispers.

I scoff, “You think I’m angry because you decided to throw me into the snow? To the cold. Do you think I’m pissed off by this mark and your magic ink? You’re fucking delusional if you think that’s it, Julius!” I yell at him, before slamming my fist into his cheek.

He steps back, spitting saliva and blood across the matt, moving so he’s a prepared distance from me, he raises his hands in surrender,

“I could never hurt you.” He whispers.

“Truth, or dare, Martin?” I ask him.

He stares deeply into my eyes, “Truth.”

I smile to myself, “Do you love me?” I ask him.

He stills at my question. Everywhere in the room stills.

He stares into my eyes., “Pass.”

I study him, “Ignore the rules then,”

I sigh girlishly, shifting more to lean on one side, “Your turn.” I say to him.

He grunts his teeth, “Truth...or dare?” He asks me.

I tilt my head, biting my lip, “Dare.”

He steps forward, “Kiss me and you’ll know.”

I stare at the delusion dip-shit in front of me, and in front of his entire clan, I leave him standing there with a muttered, “Pass.” Under my breath. I found myself walking corridors until finding a certain library not far into the west wing. I trudged towards the Roman-designed double doors with specially decorated glass doors. It opens upon my entry. The first thing I noticed was the front administration desk being abandoned in its waste of space position in the middle, before the large, long rows of books were visible. I knew the library had to have contained over a few hundred thousand books consisting of werewolf lineages, I even saw the isle signage on one of the shelves, in the order of the most powerful to the very least powerful.

The Darkling Clan.

The Julius Clan.

The Maximilian Clan.

The Collins Clan.

The Klein Clan.

The Marcel Clan.

Each one had its own unique qualities. Darkling was the most hidden. Julius is the devil’s beast. Maximilian holds the heart of gold. Collins is the least secretive, most open, and honest.

The Marcel Clan wants what Julius holds, such power and authority, driven by fear and chaos, using those willing in the human race to sustain a title in the accords. The Klein Clan want the Royal Darklings to see them as the planet’s guardians. The Darkling bloodline held the highest percentage of lycanthrope ancestry. Some even rumored that the disappearance of the oldest Darkling King was the last remaining to have almost seventy percent of Lycanthrope DNA in his genetics, to hold such abilities in his blood...an invincible werewolf.

Those were myths and legends.

Or just mere fairytales to some.

Whether each rumour held weight or not was the real question.

Whether he was alive...was yet another question unanswered.

The rumours of him, the eldest Darkling sibling were vast. That he has a certain ancient lineage in his blood. He’s said to be one of the most manipulative, calculative, and a political mastermind. A master of disguise.

Changing shape and form, he can alter his wolf to look any color, any shape. For all we know, the man can turn into a Jaguar, a bear, a dragon—one of the fiercest and extinct creatures, yet the Lycanthrope can shapeshifter into anything as large as a mere mountain, to the form of an ant, even a rat.

He’s invincible, which sets the challenge against such a Royal. Their differences are hated by so many, but I’ve always been fascinated with his elemental abilities. They say he can produce the ember flames of the sun in just the palm of his hand. He can manipulate the seas of our greatest oceans with just one thought. He can cut the world in half.

He may be a magnificent, powerful man...but he’s done nothing to stop the flame from spreading to those who were not allowed to move from the crossfire. I’d have the title of killing the highest known werewolf in the galaxy.

He’s made his choice. It has always been on Councilman Olden’s radar, my head officer, to end the royal line, Darklings don’t shed favour towards the rest of the werewolf community like most royals hold the duty to do so and that’s what made their clan an enemy to the rest. The narrative cannot be changed with an apology or even change in helping us now. They made their choice, so we must honour our own.

My ultimate mission wasn’t just about conducting evidence of locating the royal kingdom to show the council. The only mission I was given before I was scheduled to attend the meeting of clans in the auditorium, was to track down the long lost werewolf king of our kind. And bring him forward for questioning. For an investigation of whether rumours were made to hide the death of the Darkling clan, or to reveal that each one had hid due to fear of a lycanthrope rage tarnishing cities due to his lack of order. Or lack of responsibility to govern appropriately and rule a kingdom.

“What are you doing?”