Page 60 of Rogue Alpha Prince
“I’m not afraid of the King,” I scoff.
I mean, I am,but not to the point I would mind being in the same room for a meeting. Come on. It could be interesting!
“You are the only one, then.”
I look at him skeptically.
“You aren’t telling me your Alpha is scared of anyone, even the King.”
Beta looks at me, his lips pursed in a thin line. Then, after a moment, he looks back straight forward.
“Alpha is not afraid of the King, but he is afraidforyou.”
I furrow my brows.
“What do you mean?”
Did Cain tell him that I am scared of the King? I knew it was too honest…
“You wear pants.”
“What do you mean?” I ask again, looking down at my black skinny jeans and leather jacket. It’s getting chilly here up North.
“The King doesn’t like women in pants, in the castle. He likes to show it by ripping them off, then raping them for good measure.”
I stand still instantly.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
That would explaina lot. All these werewolf women in narrow-waisted old school dresses, that are no-fit for a quick shift. Cain asking me to change into one the first day; and even my advisors asking me to wear traditional attire for the meeting with The Rogue King before the wedding!
“Why does he let me wear pants at all, then?”
Beta looks briefly at me again and shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe he wants you to be free to dress as you please.”
We arrive at the natural hair stuff stand, so I leave the topic for now and pick up my order.
“Why is it purple?” I ask about the conditioner in one of the bottles.
“That’s for the anti-brass effect we talked about,” says a young wolf girl, whose silky, ass-length black hair is the ultimate goal.
“Ah, mm-hm, okay, thank you.” I did ask for my hair to look more pinkish than orange.
I used to dye it bubble-gum-pink with washable shampoo, before my advisors asked me to stop and leave it natural for the visit from the Rogue King.
I wonder if he rapes girls with tinted hair too.
Atlas already paid for my order a few days ago, so we just say our goodbyes and stroll in the direction of the parlor where I have a sugar paste waxing appointment.
“So, your Alpha—”
“He’s your Alpha, too,” The Beta interrupts immediately.
We don’t like each other, it’s clear, but he answers all my questions with raw honesty, so I take what I can.
“So. Our Alpha. He lets me wear what I want and just helps me avoid the King? It’s… too nice. It doesn’t seem like him.”
