Her exiled Gamma

What the Alpha wants

*Castor*

As the car I had called for earlier rolls through the streets, I pull from my waistcoat pocket the key she had handed me and imagine I can still feel the warmth from her fingers being wrapped around it. It is quite possible that her taking a later stroll, when the afternoon sunlight might have glinted off it, had caused her to find it when I couldn't earlier. It is also possible something a bit more nefarious is afoot.

Flashing through my mind are images of her in a night wrapper at the door. Had she been responsible for sending me around to the back, for me ending up in the hedgerows ? I wouldn't put it past the little vixen.

As for her freckles, of course I have noticed they are no longer there. I notice everything about her. I always have, and it has always been so very irritating. The way the red in her hair looks almost brown in the shadows but competes for brilliance with bright sunlight. The way the end of her nose tips up slightly as though it is straining toward a kiss. The manner in which her auburn brows will furrow when she is worried. The way her lips curl up into a smile will mesmerize. That her mouth is designed to provide the perfect haven for a man's, and I have awoken too many times with an aching c**k because it has dominated my dreams.

It is one of the reasons I chose to torment her and keep that mouth set in a mulish expression, although even then that taunts me. But my actions ensure she keeps her distance.

I have always known I am not the sort she will ever fancy nor am I the sort she deserves. I am an afterthought, the one held in reserve, hopefully never to be needed. She, on the other hand, is destined for a more prestigious mate, an Alpha.

But did she have to ask me to help her gain the blasted Alpha ?

The car comes to a stop, and I leap out before a servant can appear to assist.

“Thank you, James”. I call to the driver. “You can go on. I'll make my way home when I'm done”. After making my way to my favorite club.

“Yes, sir”. He says with a nod.

When the car rolls over the cobblestones and disappears into the traffic, I lean against a lamppost and study the three story brick building across the street. Not a single light appears within. It is completely shuttered, abandoned, and neglected. The affinity I feel for the place is ridiculous, but I want it with a desperation that sometimes causes me to make foolish decisions, to wager recklessly in my hurry to gain it. It is for sale, but I don’t yet have the funds to purchase it.

But I have plans for it. I want to restore it to its former grandeur and turn it into a club whose membership would be denied to the firstborn sons in line for an Alpha title. It would be for the spares and their younger brothers and the young men with wealth who are not welcomed among the high packs. It would be for the wallflowers, the spinsters, and the young ladies who are overlooked because of a family scandal. It would be a place for the misfits of Society .. or those who should be in Society .. to meet, visit, dine, drink, and engage in forbidden pleasures. But first I have to gain the means to make it all happen.

With purpose to my stride, I begin walking, my destination Dillinger’s playing Room. I have money in my pocket, twenty-five hundred pounds in gambling blunt, all that remains from this month's allowance. When it is gone, my wagering for the month will be over. I never borrow, never ask for credit. Too easy to fall into the trap of thinking it can be paid back with the turn of a card or the spin of a wheel. I either win with what I have on hand or I lose.

Last night, I had won two thousand quid at the gaming tables, then promptly lost it when I had gotten greedy and bet it all on one spin of the roulette wheel. I had furthered my stupidity by then turning heavily to drink in an effort to ease the disappointment. Instead, I had merely ensured a rather rough start to my day. But that is behind me, and it is time to begin anew. Tonight I need to win.

I don’t favor four-card brag, but here I sit at the table because it is the blasted Alpha of Brinsley's preferred game. I would rather have gathered some winnings elsewhere first, but as I had spotted the Alpha shortly after coming into the club and a chair had been available at the table, I had decided to get the unpleasant task done with.

At great inconvenience to myself. Perhaps I should insist on a favor from Miss Kiona.

I will have to give some thought to what she can possibly give me that will be comparable in value to this irritation.

The ante is called for, chips are tossed into the pot, and cards are dealt. After studying mine, I discard the one I do not wish to keep. I clear my throat. “So, My Alpha ...”. As Brinsley is the only Alpha at the table, I do not have to clarify. “...I saw your advert in the Alpha Times. What precisely are you looking for in a wife ?”

"Quiet".

The word is spoken brusquely, dismissively, and I decide I am going to remain in the game until I have taken every farthing Brinsley has. I am not a child to be told how to behave, to be seen and not heard. When I am done with him, the Alpha is going to regret his insufferable attitude.

After casting aside a card, Brinsley turns his attention to me and practically skewers me with a pointed look designed to intimidate, which he has no doubt practiced since birth.

But it has little impact on me because I have weathered the same stare from my father more times than I can count.

“I want quiet in a wife. One who will not disturb me when I am concentrating on important matters. One who rarely speaks but knows when it is important to do so”. He says.

“You are familiar with women, are you not ?” My comment is quickly followed by several chuckles from the other four gents gathered at the table.

"I am intimately familiar with women”. The Alpha says.

I raise a brow. “Then you are aware that asking a woman not to talk is like asking the sun not to shine. Besides, why seek silence when you could have a pleasant conversation ?"

“It's not as though you have to actually listen to the words”. One of the gents says, grinning broadly. “The softness of her voice is usually enough for me”.

The Alpha's gaze lands on the young beta with an almost audible slap.

“Silence is good”. The poor fellow sputters. “I like silence".

“Perhaps you should practice it”. Brinsley suggests in a silky voice.

“Yes, My Alpha”. The man begin concentrating on his cards as though he fears they might fly away if not shackled by his attention.

The Alpha's focus returns to bear on me. “You're the Alpha of Wolf fort's spare, are you not ?”

“I am”. I say.

“You have a sister, as I recall”. He says.

I nod. “I do”.

“Is it her intent to send me a letter ?” He asks.

I scoff in a manner to imply I considered her fortunate to not have to seek the Alpha's attention and favorable regard via post. “Hardly. She has captured the attention of another future Alpha”.

“Ah, yes, I saw an announcement about their betrothal in the Alpha Times. Why, then, do you care what qualities I am seeking in a wife ?" He asks.

“Mere curiosity, I assure you. You have taken a novel approach to courtship, and I wondered why normal methods weren't to your liking. I thought perhaps you were searching for something rare”. I explain.

“I find the accepted avenue of courtship tedious and a waste of precious time. Why spend hours in a ballroom, suffering through one introduction after another, one dance after another, when I can simply read the attributes as I might a business venture I am considering for investment ? Quicker, tidier, more efficient”.

I blink. “You view a wife as an investment ?”

“Absolutely. Are you not familiar with women ? They cost a bloody fortune. I would rather not spend my coins wooing one who in the end is not going to pay dividends. Is it your intent to play or fold ?” He says.

I toss my chips onto the pile, signaling I am playing. In the end, I win the hand and a good many of the hands afterward. Earn back the two hundred pounds I had lost last night. I do not want to consider that I owe Miss Kiona for keeping me away from the roulette wheel and inadvertently guiding me toward the card table, that I might have to attribute some of tonight's success to her.