Sweat trickled down Rourke’s temple. He was scratched and bloodied in some places, but they were only surface wounds, barely bigger than a papercut. His eyes blazed with fury as he stared down his remaining opponent.
The fourth knight, as if summoning some reserve of courage after watching his comrades be defeated, charged at Rourke with the spear slightly askew. It was purposeful. Facing the alpha was less frightening than failing to obey the King’s command not to kill him.
Rourke sidestepped the weapon, grabbed the hilt, and broke it in half like it was a twig. The broken pieces clattered to the floor.
The knight screamed in frustration. He tried to beat Rourke down with his fists, but Rourke was ready for it. He pummelled the knight’s side with a hard jab, right in the weak point of his armor. He crumpled alongside the broken spear.
Four armored knights with weapons, all bested by a single leashed alpha.
I came back to my senses as if waking up from a dream. I realized my hand was trembling. I stilled it.
Rourke was sweating and cut in a few places, but that was it. He stood firm, as if raring to go for another round. All that manpower and they could barely touch him.
Nobody spoke until Cecil broke the quiet, softly asking, “Are they… dead?”
“No,” Rourke said roughly.
Father seemed to know this already. He waved a hand. Servants on standby rushed in, though cautious around Rourke, and helped the knights to their feet. A few knights groaned, while some were silent in their shame. Father dismissed them, indicating they be taken away.
Behind him, I saw real fear on Elian’s face. It wasn’t often I saw him cowering behind Father like a child. The display had affected him deeply. Cecil, too, seemed warier of Rourke than before. His hands gripped Fluffy’s short coat tightly.
Father, however, wore an infuriating expression of smugness.
It hit me. He thought he’d won. I wiped any trace of emotion off my own face, not wanting to give him any leverage. I hadn’t been controlling myself during the altercation, and I didn’t want to give him the impression that I was afraid of Rourke like my brothers were.
But was that a lie?
I glanced at the sweaty, bloodied alpha at the other end of the leash. The realization of just how physically large and powerful he was dawned on me. He was a barely restrained force of nature. In choosing him, I hadn’t just purchased a particularly challenging dog, but a wild animal. A ferocious wolf in the shape of a man.
And the only thing separating us was six feet of leather.
What if he turned on me?
“Now, Sebastian,” Father said, not bothering to hide his tone of superiority, “what were you saying?”
My fingers curled around the leash handle. I couldn’t lose my cool in front of him—and not in front of Rourke, either. I wouldn’t show fear. He would only use it against me. Both of them would.
But I’d waited too long to compose myself, too long to try and speak, and Father went on.
“Consider this a warning, my son. If this is the path you chose, then that is fine with me. You have the free will to do so. But you are responsible for the beast you’ve brought into our home.” He smirked. “The beast you will take into your bed.”
I glared back at him.
“There is no turning back,” Father stated. “You chose to reject the well-bred pedigree alphas. Fine. That was your prerogative. Now live with the choice you made, and don’t come crying to me when that animal bites the hand that feeds it.”
* * *
I left the hall,enraged. Partly at my father and partly because of my own reaction to Rourke’s brutality. The lingering fear in my blood infuriated me. Why wouldn’t it go away? I did not want to be afraid. I was the prince. I was next in line to be King. I should not be afraid in my own palace, at the hand of my own property.
By the time I reached the baths, my breathing had calmed. Slightly. My anger had smothered my fear, at the very least.
Rourke grunted as I yanked the leash. I knew I was taking it out on him, and I knew I shouldn’t—not because of some morality, but because I was now aware of what he was capable of. By jerking him around, I was poking the bear. And yet, I couldn’t stop myself.
“Get inside,” I ordered. “You smell terrible.”
It was the truth. He reeked of grime and sweat and natural alpha musk.
Rourke stepped inside the bath chamber almost hesitantly. I realized he couldn’t enter any further because of the leash. I would have to go inside with him, since there was no way I was letting go. Even if the altercation had proved the leash was more of a symbol than a real restraint, the idea of releasing it was unthinkable.
