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Westcliff let go of Jules’s arm, bowed slightly to Liam with a disgustingly charming smile, and nodded coldly to Uncle Wayne, before turning back to Jules. Leaning in, he said, very quietly, just for Jules’s ears, “You don’t scare me, brat. Get used to the idea that you’ll be living in my house soon. When I’m your brother’s alpha, I’ll be yours, too. You’ll have to listen to me. You’ll have to obey me.” His lips curled, his eyes intent. “I’m very much looking forward to it.”

“Never,” Jules said, his fists clenching.

Westcliff picked up one of Jules’s fists and stroked his knuckles until his fingers unclenched.

His face hot and his pulse thundering in his ears, Jules watched Westcliff lift his hand toward his lips. Surely he wouldn’t…

He did.

Warm lips brushed against Jules’s knuckles.

It was nothing out of the ordinary. An old-fashioned gesture of respect toward noble omegas, nothing more.

It shouldn’t have made his skin cover in goosebumps. Or made his fingers tremble.

Jules yanked his hand away and glared at the alpha. That—that manipulative bastard! He thought he could turn on the charm and Jules would just forget what a two-faced, cynical asshole he was?

“Don’t waste your charm on me, Your Grace,” he said in his most disdainful voice. “It doesn’t work on me.”

The asshole laughed, as if Jules was being amusing.

“It was worth a try,” he said, and left.

Jules didn’t watch him leave.

He didn’t.

He looked down at his hand and scowled at his tingling fingers, before wiping them off on his pants.

It didn’t work. He could still feel Westcliff’s touch as if his flesh had been singed.

Chapter 10

Devlin Schaefer, the Duke of Westcliff, wasn’t in a very good mood. He had a headache—not a new occurrence ever since he’d woken up on Calluvia to find the previous two months of his life gone from his memory—but this morning it was particularly aggravating. For one very specific reason.

“Your Grace, His Majesty is waiting for you.”

Devlin gave a clipped nod before walking toward the king’s office. He paused for a moment, reinforcing the bland, neutral expression on his face, and then entered the room.

The king wasn’t alone. Austin Cormack, the palace press officer, was there too. He bowed to Devlin, his gaze lowered.

King Stefan regarded Devlin with a deep frown, a hint of displeasure in his scent. “Nephew,” he said coldly.

Devlin briefly entertained the thought of calling the king Father. He almost laughed out loud.

“Your Majesty,” he said instead, as coldly.

“Take a seat,” the king said.

Devlin did as he was told and looked from Stefan to his press officer.

The latter was the one to break the silence. “The news that Prince Haydn is disinherited will be announced at the beginning of next month,” Cormack said, glancing nervously at the king. But Stefan didn’t comment, his face inscrutable, so Cormack continued. “Preliminary data suggests that almost seventy percent of the population will disapprove. The prince—”

“He’s no longer a prince,” Stefan bit out.

Cormack swallowed. “I’m sorry, sire. Habit. The—Haydn is very loved by the common people, especially by the army. We cannot predict how they would react to the news of him being disinherited and a—” He cut himself off, glancing nervously at Devlin this time.

Devlin took pity on him. “And a Xeus alpha being named the heir,” he finished for him.

Cormack nodded gratefully. “The situation is doubly difficult. However, it does help that the duke is popular among our people—for a Xeus alpha.” He looked at Devlin. “Your reputation is beyond reproach, Your Grace. You’ve performed very well as National Security Adviser, so well that even your strongest critics have admitted so. We managed to contain the unfortunate incident at the Opal House, so there is nothing your detractors can use against you—”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Devlin said. “Whoever held me captive—whoever experimented on me—might know my identity and might have something to use against me.” Like the fact that I bonded to someone, possibly against their will.

The unsettling thought made his stomach clench, the phantom ache of his broken mating bond chilling his insides. No matter how many times Devlin had told himself that it hadn’t been him, it turned his stomach to think that his feral self might have forced some poor omega to do what they didn’t want to do. His only consolation was the fact that the bond had formed, which meant that the omega must have been receptive enough: the mating mark wouldn’t have taken if his feral self had raped them. It was still a small comfort. At least the omega was now free of their accidental bond.

Cormack winced. “That is a possibility, but our Secret Service is investigating the issue and hopefully we’ll have answers soon. The most pressing concern is the matter of your former bondmate, Your Grace. If someone steps forward, blaming you for—for assaulting and forcing a mating mark on them, that would ruin everything. People would not care that you couldn’t be held responsible for your actions under the influence of kerosvarin. It would be a disaster.”


Tags: Alessandra Hazard The Wrong Alpha Paranormal