Chapter 8 An Alpha’s Day

Chapter 8 An Alpha’s Day
KANE

I lounge across the velvet chaise in my chamber, barely lit, cozy, with my shirt half-unbuttoned and whores draped over each of my shoulders like they are living jewelry. 

My attention strays from the warmth of the hand palming my cock to the face of the person who amuses me with her naivety and balls. A certain green-eyed menace passed out cold on my rug hours ago.

I still taste her on my tongue.

The Omega put up quite the show, only to pass out with her hand in her pants. Ironic.

‘Do you not want to take her?’ Skol invades my mind. Again. He’s desperate, stirring and churning for that primal connection. ‘She’s ours. Our mate. Tell the council and have her. Keep her. You are king!’

‘Shut up,’ I hiss. ‘Now is not the time for your stupid fantasies.’

‘When is?’ There’s mockery in his tone. ‘After your cock is tired of being strangled by the thought of her? Weakling.’

I block him out. I am certain the only time I ever liked Skol is during a fight. Other times he’s just a smug bastard with a piercing tongue.

Nyx. Defiant green eyes, tangling black hair, and that small, perfect body that just—

I swallow hard.

Just… means nothing to me. 

She means nothing, but shame and embarrassment to the mighty name of Blackhollow. I do not intend to soil mine and my pack’s reputation by being mated to such a low-class wolf.

A slave.

But before I ever reject her, I’ll do all I can to make her little life as miserable as possible. Teach her hierarchy, respect, and class.

Crimson wine trickles from a silver goblet into the hollow of the left whore’s collarbone. I lean down and lick it clean, while the right one giggles and purrs “Alpha” like it’s the only word she knows, stroking my cock harder and earning a grunt.

Casting a cut in the moment, the castle door swings open without ceremony, and Matthias hurries in, one of my loyal ones. 

It’s almost hilarious how his eyes are politely fixed on the ceiling, like he can’t see two naked women flanking me. No man can behave at the sight of perky tits. 

“Sire, Lord Draven is here to see you,” he informs with a bow.

I roll my eyes so hard the girls feel it.

“Oh, Draven, the eternal party-pooper,” I drawl, tipping the goblet so the last drops spill across the bare breast of the redhead who bites down on her lower lip and moans. “Ladies, out. Take your delightful tits elsewhere.”

They pout, knowing better than to argue. I flick a coin at each of them. They scamper off, giggling, leaving wet footprints of wine and perfume across my marble floor.

“Let him in,” I call, stretching. 

Draven strides in the second the door closes behind the whores. My uncle with the perfect hair. Perfect stance. He’s gracious, unlike me. 

Level-headed.

Draven wrinkles his nose theatrically. “Gods, Kane, it smells like a brothel exploded in here. How many cunts did you drown in tonight?”

I smirk, raising my goblet in salute. “Quality over quantity, uncle. Though tonight was… educational.” 

Draven drops into the chair opposite me, all easy grace and sharp blue eyes. I pour him wine and slide the goblet across the table. He catches it without looking.

“To your health,” I toast, clinking his glass. “Now ruin my night. What is it?”

He takes a slow sip, then props forward. “Saw a little maid being carried out earlier. Unconscious. Thought you’d finally snapped and killed your new toy.”

A dark chuckle rumbles out of me. “Not yet. She’s… interesting.” I swirl the wine. “She bites. They don’t do that often.”

Draven lifts a brow but lets it go. He doesn’t bring Daciana up this time.

“Well, while you were busy being interesting, two more bodies turned up at the eastern border. Same savage work as the first six. Throats torn out, hearts missing. They were allies, Kane. The Moonbringer pack scouts.”

Every muscle in me pulls taut and I sit up. The playful haze evaporates like mist. 

Someone is carving up our allies and leaving the corpses on our doorstep like a declaration of war.

My jaw hardens. I carefully set the goblet down. “Same ritual cuts? Same scent markers?”

“Identical.” Draven’s voice drops. “Moonbringer’s Alpha Viktor is already whimpering about pulling out of the shared market and sealing the border. He thinks if war comes, Blackhollow will be the first to burn.”

I snort, cold and lethal. “Viktor. That spineless little pup.” I rise, pacing to the window, staring out at the moon hanging fat and silver over my empire. “A few shackles of gold and eight barrels of our best whiskey will remind him whose cock he kisses for protection.”

Draven watches me.

I tilt in his direction. “When’s our next grand occasion? Something public. Something that screams Blackhollow is untouchable.”

A slow, wolfish grin spreads across his face.

“The Claiming Hunt,” he says. “And, conveniently, Luna Daciana’s birthday.”

“Perfect.” I kiss my teeth. “The Claiming Hunt. We throw the biggest, bloodiest party the provinces have ever seen. Let every Alpha watch us celebrate while their allies rot at our borders.”

Draven nods. Although I have other plans. I need to find out who the fuck keeps testing my patience.

“Let them come,” I murmur. “Let them all come.”

Draven leans back, “Make the celebration for Daciana’s birthday. You haven’t done a single decent thing for the girl since the wedding. Might calm her father’s nerves ‘cause we need those western herbs.”

I snort into my goblet. “I didn’t choose to marry the ice princess, Draven. That was your little arrangement, remember? Behind my back while I was busy burying my father.”

He doesn’t flinch. His shoulders stiffen. “And I’ve been apologizing ever since. Did what I had to for the pack.” His voice is quiet, every word measured. “We needed that alliance.”

“And I needed an anchor. I was sixteen. A mere, clueless boy.” I slam the goblet down, the liquid splashing across the table like fresh blood. “Now, I am Alpha. I make the rules.”

“I know, Kane. And I’m proud of how far you’ve come. Your father would be too.”

My throat tightens so fast it hurts. The memory flashes uninvited. Father’s throat being torn open by that cruel Nightbane, blood soaking up the greens while I stood frozen, too young, too weak to pull a finger.

His head on that spike.

The mockery in their voices. The laughs and pointy fingers after we were captured. My stomach twists. I swallow the rest of the wine in one burning pull.

“Come,” I mutter, “I’ll see you out.”

“Very well, Alpha.”

“Tell Mikkelson that the killers must be found. I want all the information on my desk within the fortnight.”

“Yes, Alpha.” Draven bows. 

We walk the long hallway side by side, until Draven casually breaks the silence, “Beta Mark invited me to lunch today.”

I arch a brow. “Old man still trying to marry off his daughter?”

Draven chuckles. “Exactly. Wants me to take her hand. It didn’t look like he was asking.”

I bark out a laugh so loud it bounces off the stone walls and almost takes out the lights. “Sable is more interested in tits than cock, Draven. Good luck bedding that tiger.”

He laughs with me, until I tilt my head. “Wait. Do you fancy her?”

He shrugs, a shadow crossing his face. “Fancy is a luxury I can’t afford. But the union would be… strategic.”

“Strategic, uh?” I grin, vicious. “Marrying Sable is like trying to leash a storm. She’s fussy, rude, impossible to please—”

“My Lord!” A shrill voice cuts me off.

Madeleine, Daciana’s little lapdog, comes sprinting around the corner with skirts bunched in her fists and her face white as bone.

“Your Highness,” she gasps, dropping into a frantic curtsy. “The Luna—she’s been bitten! Bitten by a snake and she's screaming for you!”

The world narrows to a single, icy point. “Ah. Fuck.” 

I run.