Page 110 of Rogue Alpha Prince
“What about the King?” she asks, crossing her arms like I do.
I can see she holds back more questions about his duties, but probably knows her place by now. You do not question your Alpha or King.
“I was informed she’s wearing jeans,” I say and smack my lips. I know my beta already told her about my father’s particular traditions.
She cringes at the realization.
I sigh and turn around, ready to leave.
“Do you need someone to take care of the pup while you talk with the mom?” She reenters the room after me.
“What do you mean? We can talk in front of the baby.”
Am I that hideous to her? Do I look like someone who eats babies or something?
“Don’t you help young mothers with childcare?” she asks, more confused than I am.
I realize I might know quite a lot about her Kingdom’s habits—with the fact that mine is made out of her ex-subjects—but she never had any source of material to learn about my Kingdom. Especially since I killed her double agent best friend. I decide to explain a little bit.
“We help with house chores like cooking, laundry, and stuff, but we let mothers’ bond with their pups as much as they want. Plus, we don’t typically have Lunas take care of pack nurseries, like your packs do, because we kill them after their first pup is born—so this approach makes more sense for us.”
She looks at me blankly from the moment I mentioned killing the Lunas.
“I mean, we used to do that, not anymore, of course,” I chuckle, reaching the door.
“Someone will have to use condoms for the rest of his life,” she whispers, with a way too serious face.
I laugh again.
“Relax, my mom is still alive. She lives near the Unwanted territory, actually,” I lie before I can stop myself.
“But she was never a true Luna, was she?” Asher says pointedly, with raised brows. “Go, I know you have to. Kingdom always comes first.”
I need to talk to her, but she is right. Kingdom always comes first when you are who we are.
“Technically speaking, your parents have a right to do that, and we both know it,” I say to the seventeen-year-old girl, while sitting on my throne in a meeting hall that’s a huge high-ceiling room with lots of space. One throne, a long carpet in the middle, a few floor-to-ceiling bookcases on one side, and a few display cabinets in front of impressive windows on the other.
The girl stands before me, fidgeting with her hands, while her adorable six-month-old baby sleeps on my lap.
Asher would have a heart attack if she saw me like that, I smile at this thought.
“But,” I continue, “It was, beyond a doubt, a dick move, don’t you think?”
The girl cracks a smile, “Yes, Alpha, definitely a dick move.”
“I grant you a stay here as long as you need.”
She breathes out with relief, “Oh, thank you, Alpha!”
“I’ll have to transfer all your privileges later in my office, but in the meantime, just tell me if you need any formula.”
“I’m breastfeeding.”
I try not to cringe at the still-fresh memory of my father's mouth around the dead Unwanted’s nipple.
“Great, lactation consultant then? Or diapers?”
She leaves the meeting hall ten minutes later with her still sleeping baby, after I remind her she should wear dresses in the castle. I don’t think I’ll ever forget how she exclaimed, with a terrified expression, “Oh, fuck! The King!” at that.
