The devil Alpha

Letters

*Lucian*

I line up my little soldiers, grateful for the bottles of whiskey that Jack has seen delivered tonight as promised. Then I sit in my chair and begin gulping the contents of the first bottle.

Frannie had refused me and cut me to the core by doing it. I had put off asking her to marry me not because I thought she would deny me, but because I can't quite convince myself that I am deserving of her… that I am deserving of any she-wolf. But to have her refuse me because she fears this life…Had living here been that hard on her?

The old Alpha took her and a few of Feagan’s lads in when he discovered me sneaking them into the house to feed them and give them a warm place for the night. He watched them closely, not quite trusting them. He hired tutors. He saw that they were taught proper behavior.

So what is Frannie afraid of? What does she think she doesn't know? Or is there more to her refusal than I want to accept? Is it the darkness that resides within me that she can't live with and she is simply too kind to admit it?

I toss the empty bottle aside. I reach for another and something beneath the far chair catches my eye. I stand and the room spins. Dropping to my knees, I crawl to the chair, reach beneath it, and fold my fingers around the object. Turning, I put my back against the chair and study the clasp.

Miss Evangeline’s clasp. It must have fallen from her pelisse. One of my servants isn't taking as much care with the floor as she should, but I am not particularly upset about her shoddy work. I feel the smallest movement of my mouth as though a smile is forming as I remember Evangeline’s bravado, remember her surprise that I knew her name.

Oh, yes, I knew who she was. I uncovered that little truth the first night I set eyes on her. Even the most loyal of servants favor their pockets over their masters. Offering a few coins, I found someone willing to hide in the bushes, peer through the window with me, and identify the she-wolf I pointed out.

I was not surprised to find her in my library. I was surprised only that it took her so long to make an appearance. That night at the ball I felt an immediate attraction, the intensity greater than any I have experienced before or since.

I always assumed that if I had first met Frannie as a young she-wolf, my attraction for her would have hit me as hard, if not harder. But we were children when we first met and we grew into affection.

I rub my thumb over the clasp. Evangeline is different. Evangeline is…

I hear the laughter echoing around me, only vaguely aware that I am responsible for the sound.

Evangeline is the answer to my acquiring what I want more than anything else.

*Evangeline*

Very deliberately and carefully, I dip the gold nub of my pen into the inkwell. My father wouldn’t be pleased by my actions, but I don’t see that I have any choice.

My dearest brother,

I hope my letter finds you well…

I hope it finds you at all, I think wearily.

…and enjoying your travels.

However, I have desperate need of you at home.

My hand is shaking when I again dip into the inkwell. I have Sterling’s traveling schedule, but I have no idea if he is following it diligently. Still, I don’t see that I have much choice except to try to get in touch with him. But then the doubts surface.

How can I even consider asking of my brother what I had asked of Claybourne? He doesn’t possess Claybourne’s dark soul. My brother is kind and generous. I love him dearly… except for the fact that being several years older he seems to be of the opinion that his is the only one of any importance. That attitude has no doubt led to the row with my father, bless him.

How might my request change Sterling? Would it turn him into a man like Claybourne? Do I want to be responsible for turning an angel into a devil? But I am so worried that the next time Riverdale takes his fists to Wicky he will kill her.

Claybourne is right. I should see to the matter myself. But oh, dear Goddess, where will I find the strength? And how will I do it? A pistol? A knife? Poison?

How many times will I need to shoot him or stab him? I have never even seen a dead person… at least not so I have remember.

My mother had died giving birth to a baby who didn’t survive. I had been a child at the time. My mother had simply appeared to be sleeping. Is all death as peaceful?

I am startled from my morose thoughts by a light tapping at my door. My maid, Jenny, peers inside. “Miss Evangeline, a message has been delivered.”

My heart fairly stops beating. Is it from Wicky? Has the worst finally happened? Or is it from my brother? Is he on his way home at last? Are my prayers to be answered?

“Bring it here quickly.” My trembling worsens as I reach for the letter. It bears no seal. Just a glob of wax to hold it closed. How strange. I slip my silver letter opener beneath the wax, parting it from the parchment. Then I unfold the letter.

We need to meet.

Midnight.

Your garden.

C

C? Who the devil…

I nearly gasp.

Claybourne?

I quickly fold up the letter and look at Jenny. “Who brought this?”

“A young lad.” She says.

“Did he say anything?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly.

She shakes her head lightly, “Only that it concerned an urgent matter and should be delivered to you straight away. Is everything all right, Miss?”

I clear my throat. “Yes, all is well. I’m feeling a bit restless tonight. I shall take a stroll later, around midnight, after which you may help me prepare for bed.”

“Yes, Miss Evangeline.” Jenny curtsies and leaves the room.

I unfold and reread the missive. Oh, dear Goddess, I have called at the devil’s door and now he is calling at mine. This does not bode well, this does not bode well at all.