Rejecting the Alpha Prince

2

AMELIA

I hissed through my teeth, kicking a pebble and sending it to the other side of the stream.

I f*****g hate all of this, I thought, marching through the woods.

It had already been two hours since I stormed out of the pack house after the fight with my parents, but I hadn't been able to calm down: anger and adrenaline still ran through my veins, together with the insane need to shift and just run off, and maybe hunt a little, just to get the need to unsheathe my claws and dig them into something out of my system.

Damned, f*****g royals.

My parents might have been their friends, but I ... had a very different opinion of the Royal Family. And it didn't sit well with them - that was why we'd fought: there was going to be a party tonight, at our pack house, and the Crown Prince, the Princess, and their eldest son would be there as our guests of honor.

I went deeper into the woods, trying to get as far away as possible from them and their stupid words of idolatry towards the von Blankenburgs.

As if they were any different from us, I growled. As if they didn't bleed red just like us.

As a matter of fact, my sister, Charlotte, would have stated that they really weren't like us: they were Lycans, and according to everyone, that simple fact gave them the right to dominate us and force us to call them Majesties. Well, not all of them were. The damned Princess was an Alpha - powerful and all, but a werewolf, not a Lycan, and her son too. Still, we had to bow before her and kiss and worship the ground she walked on, ignoring everything she'd done, ignoring the war she'd caused, ignoring the way she'd abandoned our pack when she was our Luna.

She had her reasons, Amy, my mother's voice rang through my mind. Very good reasons.

To me, though, those just sounded like stupid excuses. Any other Luna who had abandoned her pack would have been deprived of her wolf and forced to live among humans, but Emily McNamara had become Princess; how fortunate. If she was such a powerful Alpha, why the hell hadn't she used those powers to kill Clayton? Why hadn't she used them for her own pack instead of running away, abandoning us, and causing death and devastation?

That didn't sound like the behavior of a leader, or of a Luna, or of an Alpha, to me. It looked like the one of a coward who'd chosen the easy way out for herself.

Be careful, Amelia, my father's words echoed in my head. What you're saying isn't just deeply offensive, it's high treason. Especially considering you're our daughter.

That is to say, of the temporary Alpha of the Red Blood pack, placed there twenty-three years before for the sole purpose of waiting for the actual heir to come of age and decide what to do with his life, whether to assume the title or not.

Another of the many things that disgusted me about those privileged fuckers. No other Alpha in the world would have been allowed to choose whether to step up: it wasn't even considered. But for Prince Erik, everything was allowed - even leaving a good man to occupy a role he didn't really want simply because His Highness didn't feel like doing his duty and made no secret of his contempt for what was, after all, his birth pack. Anything for the son of that coward.

Amy?, my sister called. I know you're upset, but ... Mom wants you to come back. The stylist came to do our hair for the party.

I took a deep breath, and then another, swallowing down the nasty answer that was on my lips. Charlotte was not to blame, after all.

Tell her I'm coming.

Those words sounded like defeat. And they were: despite everything, I couldn't ignore a direct order from the Alpha, and he'd ordered me to be at the party. I'd have to play the part of the graceful maiden in ecstasy in front of the royals, treat them like gods descended to earth, and play the prissy girl.

At least it would be just one evening.

Just one, and then my life would go back to normal ...

Snap.

A scream ripped from my throat, hoarse and terrifying as a stabbing pain darted down my leg, as if ... as if it was being bitten off. When, panting, I found the courage to look down, I felt my legs give out. I don't know how I managed to stay on my feet - maybe it was just my body going into survival mode, knowing that if I fell, the wound would just get worse.

A trap. A bloody wolf trap ... and I, distracted as I was, had merrily walked right into it.

"f**k," I hissed, my eyes blurred by tears, trying desperately to remain still to avoid aggravating the wound, even though every fiber in my body was screaming for me to get away, to run home.

Charlie, I called my sister, hoping she could hear me - even though, with all the blood and strength I was losing, I wouldn't have bet a dime on it. Charlie, I'm hurt ... please send someone ...

No reply came from her. Total silence.

The same happened with my parents - and I hadn't been careful enough, that morning, to check the names of the wolves on patrol on the table.

Fuck, f**k, f**k!

My sight began to blur, and breathing became difficult. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, straining hard to pump what little blood remained in my veins and keep me alive.

Help ... someone help me ... anyone ...

"Don't worry, I heard you. I'm here."

Suddenly, a cloud of the most incredible scent enveloped me, reawakening my senses a little. Cedar, sunshine, and sea, like a beautiful summer sunset ... an unfamiliar smell, but one that, for some reason, immediately instilled in me a powerful feeling of safety and calm.

"It's ok, I've got you. Let's get you sat down."

The stranger wrapped me in his arms and, with extreme care, sat me down on the ground, leaning against a tree.

"Breathe deeply and keep your eyes closed. It'll take just a moment. You're a Red Blood, right?"

Somewhere inside me, I found the strength to nod.

"Good. I mean, the crest on your arm gave it away, but I wanted to be sure," the stranger said. "The pack house shouldn't be that far away ... two or three miles west, right?"

I nodded again.

"Take it ..." I whispered, my voice trembling. "Please take it off ..."

"I'm about to, sweetheart, don't worry. Why don't you tell me something about yourself in the meantime?"

I knew that strategy - I'd been taught it in school, during a first aid training. Getting the injured person to talk as much as possible, to distract him, to make him think about something else while being attended to.

"M-my name is Amelia Hawthorne ... my father's name is Lucas, he's the Alpha of the ... of the Red Bloods ... I'm st-studying medicine in college, but I'm h-home for Chris-Christmas ..."

"Nice to meet you, Amelia Hawthorne," I heard a smile in my mysterious savior's words, spoken with a subtle but present accent I couldn't identify. "Now, tell me your favorites. Color, flower, book, singer."

I squeezed my eyes shut in pain. "B-blue, r-roses ... A Song of Ice and ... Tayl-f**k!" I screamed as my leg exploded in pain again.

"It's over!" the stranger exclaimed, his voice soft and soothing. "Sorry. Taylor Swift is not my favorite," he chuckled then. A rustle, and I felt something being wrapped around my injured leg. "You're in no condition to walk. I'm taking you home, okay?"

"It's ... it's not necessary," I gasped, still unable to open my eyes. "I should be able to heal quickly enough ... I can go home by myself. You've already done so much for me ..."

"Bullshit," he said. "That leg won't heal for at least two other hours - and it'll be dark by then. Hold on to me."

He lifted me up again, pressing me against his warm and very, very firm chest. With every step he took, I felt his muscles move against me. A part of me - a part that, I realized only now that I was a little better, had begun to purr as soon as his scent had engulfed me - wanted nothing more than to open my eyes to admire those muscles, and to at least know the face of my savior, but ... I didn't feel strong enough to do so. So I leaned my head against his chest and abandoned myself in his embrace, floating in his scent and the strange but reassuring feeling of protection he gave me, and let him take me home.

I realized I didn't know his name a second before I drifted off.