King of the Alphas

***POV Maya:***

The dress was so tight that I could barely breathe. The red fabric clung to my cleavage and constricted around my chest before embracing my hips. The long slit from the top of my thigh was the only reason I could walk, but I could never sit without my dress riding up. 

That's precisely how my father wanted it. He only expected me to sit down if I was perched on someone's thighs. 

To be more specific, the thighs of Alpha Larson Peterman, from the Chalmer Basin Pack. 

That night, I would finally escape my father's control and belong to someone else. I knew nothing about him; I only hoped he was kinder than my father. As far as I was concerned, everyone had to be kinder than Bruce Callahan. 

"Smile," Bruce growled in a whisper as his hand gripped my arm, "or Peterman won't see you as friendly." 

Immediately, I forced a smile. There was no way to refuse my father. He would spill blood in front of everyone, even in front of my suitor, without a second thought—and everyone would praise him for it. 

The grand ballroom was a sea of glitz and glamour. I had never seen anything like it in my life, but I didn't have the chance to appreciate it. All eyes turned to me as the crowd parted. Women smiled at me, likely because my slender dress stood out among the greens, blues, and purples. Most of the women were adorned with feathers and tulle, and nothing was as revealing as the red lace I wore. My father had not even allowed me to wear a bra or nude panties beneath my dress. 

One wrong move and the carefully placed lace would slip off, turning this ball into an adults-only affair.

We paused for a moment, and my father leaned in close to my ear. "If you mess this one up, Maya, you already know what awaits you when you get home." Incarceration, which I was already accustomed to. The beatings, too. Still, I understood how much worse it could get. I had witnessed my father and his men use hot stones and silver needles. I had seen him torture a wolf in human form to the brink of death, allowing it to transform to heal itself, only to do it all over again. 

When I looked at my father, I saw a monster. When anyone else looked at him, they saw a god. 

He cleared his throat and patted a man on the shoulder. When the man turned around, I exhaled slowly. Larson was a handsome young man, perhaps a few years older than me. That was a small relief. Or maybe I would have preferred him to be much closer to death: less time on the sentence. 

"Alpha Callahan," Larson greeted him before his gaze fell on me. First came surprise, then the unmistakable desire. "Is this your daughter?" 

"Indeed. Maya Callahan, my shining jewel." 

I nearly retched at the sound of the false pride in his voice. Instead, I lowered my head and bowed as much as I could without tearing the fabric of my dress. 

"I am sure you will find an excellent companion in her." 

That was why we were all there: for Larson to choose his wife, and from what my father had told me, there weren't many women for him to select from. At least, none with my pedigree, as he liked to say. 

He was not referring to my mother's pedigree. According to him, she was nothing more than a slut who hitchhiked on the side of the road. But he came from a long line of alphas, practically royalty.