The Knight; His secret author

Standing up for women

In the darkness of that garden, as his mouth plundered mine and his hands journeyed possessively over me, I became lost to all the glorious sensations he brought to life.

She-wolf, The Alpha of my Desires, A Memoir

*Knightley*

The Brinsley ball is an incredibly formal affair. Being an Alpha, and having a Luna who is extremely skilled at arranging matters, guests are announced at the top of the stairs when they arrive. Thus, I know the moment Althea crosses the threshold from the hallway into the ballroom.

Not that I had needed to hear her name booming out to know she has arrived. I sense her presence, always will. Of course, staring at the doorway also helps. Because I'm here for only her.

If I hadn’t managed to garner her an invitation, I would have made an appearance, but my heart wouldn’t have been in it. Tonight it's fully engaged, the first time in a long while since it's been stirred to feel anything at all when I have attended one of these affairs. Earlier, I was tense with concern that she had ignore the gilded card delivered personally to her by one of the Alpha’s servants. I almost sent her a missive alerting her that she'd be welcomed.

But then she arrives, and I take a full breath of relief. I should have known she had not let the possibility of receiving cuts dissuade her from placing herself in a position to walk gracefully down those stairs, her head held high, daring anyone to object. The she-wolf is magnificent in a pale green gown that bares her shoulders and hints at the way her breasts would fill a man’s palms, have filled mine. At my sides, my hands clench and unclench as I fight off the memories of warm silken flesh against my skin.

Standing with Joker and two other gentlemen, ignoring their chatter, I surreptitiously watch as she gracefully curtsies before the Alpha and his Luna, the warm smile they each bestow upon her indicating they are truly glad she's come. I have chosen my friends well, and I will make a point of thanking them later for their graciousness.

She has taken only a few steps away from her host and hostess when Chidding approaches her, his smile tentative and awkward, and I can't help but wonder, as the man signs her dance card, if Chidding would have done the same if he had coins in his coffers.

She deserves a man who is more interested in her than in the easier life she could provide. Perhaps I should strive to secure such a gentleman for her. Although I suspect she wouldn’t appreciate my finding fault with her current suitor and seeking to replace him with someone more worthy. Chidding isn’t a bad fellow, but neither is he particularly exciting. On the other hand, maybe Althea feels she’s had her fill of excitement. Perhaps she yearns for a quieter, calmer life, one in which she isn’t constantly the object of gossip or conjecture, one within which she is fully accepted, and the circumstances of her birth mattered not at all.

“What do you make of it, Knightley?” Joker asks.

I turn my attention away from my musings. She is no longer mine to worry over. She wants Chidding, so Chidding she shall have. “Apologies. I was distracted for a moment there. To what were you referring?”

Joker’s smirk lets me know he knows precisely what had distracted me, damn the man.

“Granard here was saying Bremsford has offered a thousand-pound reward to anyone who can confirm the identity of ‘She-wolf’.”

I glare at the gray-haired Alpha, more my father’s contemporary than my own. “Has he gone mad? Why the devil would he care who the author is?” Although, based on my encounter with Bremsford only a few nights ago, I suspect the Alpha is seeking to wreak havoc for Althea out of spite or jealousy or... simple unkindness.

“Because he is a man of firm convictions and understands the danger posed by such salacious writings. The things this fallen she-wolf allows this man to do to her.” He slowly shakes his head as though crimes had been committed and he lacks the ability to comprehend what is to be gained by such abhorrent behavior.

“You have read it, then?” I ask.

His ears and cheeks turn beet red. “Only as a study in how we might need to amend the Obscene Publications Act. The thoughts this author puts into a she-wolf’s head are indecent.”

“What? That she can find pleasure? Should, in fact, glory in it?” I huff.

“It has not been my experience that a she-wolf takes any joy in bedding at all.” He says.

I raise a brow, “Then, my Alpha, you are not doing it properly.”

The man’s eyes go so wide, I'm surprised they don’t have to actually be placed back into their sockets. “How dare you. I know what I am about. But then you would say such a thing, being Alpha K and all.”

“I say such a thing because I appreciate that she-wolves are capable of enjoying a great deal of pleasure. In fact, they are deserving of it. They aren’t chattel, man. They don’t exist to provide us with a vessel in which to slake our lust or to deposit our seed in order to merely provide us with children. They have thoughts, feelings, needs... and desires. Why, in the Goddess’s name, would any of us want to be with a she-wolf whose passion does not equal our own?” I growl.

“They... it’s not... we aren’t... this is not the place for such a sordid discussion. You, my Alpha, are disgusting. Little wonder your father has naught to do with you.” His face having gone red and blotchy, Granard marches off. The Alpha who had arrived with him stands there startled for a few seconds, before following his friend’s example.

“Brilliantly done,” Joker murmurs with an edge of sarcasm. “I have a feeling you have read the book to which you claimed to have no interest, recognized the tale, and determined it is as most of the high packs have surmised: you are indeed Alpha K and the author is a vindictive she-wolf you scorned, determined to prove that hell hath no fury”

“It’s all conjecture,” I interrupt, “not a bit of truth to any of what you or others are alleging. The story is fictitious, not a shred of my exploits to be found within its pages.”

“Why are you so vehemently opposed to being the archetype for Alpha K?” He asks.

I shake my head, “I’m not opposed to being the inspiration for the handsome and seductive fellow. I’m opposed to people drawing conclusions about the author based on their attempt to identify Alpha K.”

“There’s a wager at White’s that Althea is the author.” He says.

Beneath my breath, I curse soundly. “You think that’s the reason that Bremsford, the dashed i***t, offered the bounty? Because of a wager he’s made?”

“Perhaps. Or like so many, maybe he’s merely curious. Seeking to solve a riddle.”

Whatever the reason, Bremsford poses a danger to Althea’s happiness and to her daughter in every manner conceivable. I'm not going to allow that to stand.