Page 7 of Rogue Alpha Prince
“I’m fine on my own, Your Majesty, thank you.”
My dad looks at me skeptically, King of the Rogues with slight interest, and Rogue Prince looks smug as if he is still bathing in the knowledge that I was jealous of the maid situation.
I wasn’t. Well, maybe I was, a little, but that is not why I don’t want to bring a maid with me. No. It’s because I’ve heard the stories of how women are treated on their side of the border.
They won’t harass me, probably, but nothing would stop them from harassing any other girl without royal blood, like my maid—especially if she’s from our kingdom−still innocent and pure in their eyes.
Perfect for breaking.
No, I can’t do that to any of them. They don’t deserve it. Plus, I hate that Sarah always calls me ‘My Lady’. I can stomach ‘Your Highness’—but not that. I’m no lady. I’m an Alpha.
Rogue Alpha Prince suddenly stands up, honoring us with his godly tallness.
Goddess, how much I hate this gorgeous prick!
“We have to hurry if we want to have this wedding today, as established in the deal we all signed. I hope you know how to ride a horse,” he says and snaps fingers at one of their entourage, who immediately runs out of the office with his head bent down as low as he can.
I exchange confused looks with my dad. I thought they would take me to their Rogue Landafterthe wedding.
“What do you mean by—” my dad starts asking, but I already know what is going on over here based on the knowing, proud smirk on Rogue King’s face.
“Well, you never said anything about the wedding taking place here, did you?” he asks, but somehow, I know he only rolls with whatever his son just said.
“I knew you were too compliant for it to be good and true! You know I can’t just drive to your foreign land on a whim without preparations, and you are already here. What’s with this nonsense?!” My father is losing his temper, probably never thinking that he would lose not only me—his oldest child—but also the whole experience of giving my hand in a beautiful marriage ceremony, surrounded by friends and family.
Rogue King is staring at my father with a crooked smile. Finally, he nods at his son, the one who suggested the whole thing, now, I was pretty sure, on a whim. Just for fun to mess with me and my dad.
Bastards.
“It’sokay, Dad. Don’t worry, as I’ve already said, I’m perfectly fine on my own,” I say with the most compliant and calm voice I can master in this fucked up situation.
I want my family at my wedding more than anything. I want my mom, my sisters and brothers, and my cousin, Ella. I want our modern traditions, luxury, and fun.
But I also wanted to get married for love, so I guess none of it matters now anyway, does it?
Chapter 3 – All the Knives Between Us
Iam staring at the Rogue King's hand—bleeding over a fancy whiskey glass—trying not to gag.
Am I supposed to drink this thing? I am a bloodthirsty werewolf, but drinking a full glass of some dirty Rogue’s blood in my human form seems excessive. Is that really the only way we can do this?
But I am not some weak girl, and I know I am doing it for the greater good.For my people—I think, like a mantra at this point. So, I pick up the glass filled with a crimson-red, thick fluid and gulp it down as if my life depended on it. Because it kind of does.
“I, the Royal Alpha Princess, pledge my loyalty to you, Rogue King, and your pack, with my life and my wolf form.”
The Rogue King smirks again and leans over the oak table to grab my reluctant hand with his.
“I accept your loyalty and welcome you and your wolf form into my pack,” he says, cutting my hand slightly with the same knife he used on himself.
It stings, but I know it will heal quickly.
I notice his son rolls his eyes at us, probably bored out of his mind, and I can’t blame him for that. This day is going painfully slow.
The next thing I know, I’m being led outside without a chance to say goodbye to anyone but my dad. It's a good thing I asked my maid to pack me. I don’t even know what they prepared for me. All I know is I’m going to some mythical raw land up north. It used to be so uninhabitable that everyone thought it was the best place to exile some convicts so they could slowly die, alone and hungry.
That went very well, as we can see now.
I steal one more hug from my dad, noticing he feels slightly different now that I’m officially part of Rogue Kingdom. As if my body instinctively recognizes we are from different packs, the same way it always did on the battlefields when we fought with the Rogues. It’s confusing.
