He doesn’t spare me a second glance and focuses on Jordan. It’s not new to me, yet it still gives me a stab to my chest. There are many people in this pack who saw me grow up and who knew my father, and one by one, they all fell like dominoes when Jordan took over after his death. On their list of priorities, I am just the lowest. The alpha’s daughter—no matter how kind I was to them before and how much I mingled with them and helped them, no matter how good my parents were—it doesn’t count anymore, because Jordan brings power.
The moment he took over, the finances were in his hands, so were the decisions. He wouldn’t even have needed to paint me in a bad light to make the pack turn their backs on me. They would have done it anyway.
But I guess he gave them an excuse for their consciences.
Fortunately, the other tables continue their breakfast, not paying me much attention anymore. This is until I hear the door open again, and a young woman comes in. Jordan spots her, too, and smiles at her. “Clara, you are late!”
“I am sorry, Alpha.” She rushes towards our table, her cheeks rosy from the cool outside air. “I attended my training with the gamma.”
I bite down on my teeth, balling my hand into a fist under the table. I am proud to show on the outside that I am keeping my cool, but inside, I feel like I am about to burst. He did it onpurpose. He made sure to invite her to breakfast. He called me out for being late, well aware that I would not be able to reply in a way the pack would respect me for. He knows I’d never say that I needed to hide my bruises—no one would believe me. But on asking Clara, she had a perfect answer. I am sure other pack members spotted her on her way, and maybe even saw her train.
She isn’t even a warrior. Jordan just asked her to train a little with the gamma, so she can learn basic self-defense, because he hasplansfor her.
Clara is a young woman, nineteen, a beautiful brunette. I know her; she is the daughter of one of the elite warriors, his only daughter, whom he dotes on a lot. She is spoiled, but nice. Jordan has made sure to parade her around at his side, pretending to mentor her, while in reality, he has been courting her. The worst part about it is that Clara gets along well with the pack members. She has a lot of friends here; she is popular. A sweet and fun girl, if a bit naïve, but it adds to her charm.
A charm I don’t have, never had.
Full of energy, Clara starts to dig into her breakfast, all the time chatting and being her bubbly self. I don’t even think she fakes it. It’s who she is. For her and her family, it obviously means an awful lot that the alpha pays her so much attention. Maybe they believe she is on the run for a high rank.
They might not understand what Jordan is truly doing, that he is looking at her in a way a mated wolf shouldn’t look at another person. I am not sure if her parents would be so eager to hand her over to the alpha as a potential sidepiece.
My headache is returning.
To keep up the pretense, I stay at the breakfast table until the first, ranked members stand up to return to their work. It’s then that I take the opportunity to escape, too. I put my cup down. “Excuse me,” I say while standing up. “I will go ahead and leave you to your business.”
Clemmens gazes briefly at me, but doesn’t say anything. Jordan, however, scowls. “The elders expect you in my office in an hour. You are still not with child.” He looks at me like I am a piece of trash on the side of a road. “It’s your duty to produce an heir.”
I try to keep my shoulders straight and my gaze firm when I look at him. “I am well aware,” I say. “I will be talking with them, Jordan.”
I refuse to call him by his title, and I know it pisses him off, so does my cold attitude. I know he prefers when I break down and cry, like I used to. I begged for his attention and for his love, but he doesn’t have any to give.
“Rosy,” Jordan takes my hand into his. “You have made me the happiest man alive by being my mate.”
I feel my cheeks heat up.Rosy. No one has ever used a nickname for me. Out of respect, the pack members always used my full name, and my parents emphasized that it makes me more dignified to be called Rosea.
Dignity and respect. Mom keeps repeating it over and over, saying that when I am luna I’ll need to rely on these two attributes more than on any other. I have always taken my parents’ lessons seriously. I studied for top grades, and then at home, I studied even more. The pack deserves me at my best after all, but in front of my mate, I can be myself.
“You are so silly,” I say when he wraps his arms around me. His arms are strong, easily enveloping me. I am not a small woman. I am tall, coming with the typical traits of an alpha-blooded child. I am neither cute nor pretty, but I know how to dress and how to present myself. My mom is a very elegant woman and taught me everything I need to know.
Jordan, however, treats me like I am sweet and delicate, and it just makes my heart flutter.
Jordan twirls me around. “Well, I can’t help it when I am with my beautiful mate.”
I chuckle. “You are still being silly. I am not beautiful.”
“You absolutely are. All eyes are constantly on you when you are somewhere. They don’t call you the Icy Beauty for nothing,” he smirks. “But I know how adorable you truly are.”
I hate the term Icy Beauty; sometimes they call me the Ice Princess. I don’t even know when it started, maybe when I began high school. I refused to date anyone from my pack, giving me the reputation of being picky, while I truly just wanted to avoid any drama. My parents approved of my decision, and even said that the nickname isn’t too bad, better than many others that could have been picked
Maybe my parents are right; I don’t know, but I don’t like the distance it puts between the pack and me.
“Wait, Rosy, I have something for you.”
He lets go of me and hurries outside again, while I wait patiently—or rather not so patiently—for what he is bringing me. When he returns, he carries a huge bouquet of flowers. “When I saw them, I thought about you,” he says.
I am stunned. No one has ever given me such flowers. They are blue roses. He thought of me when he bought them. The ultimate romantic gesture.
Blue roses. Funny how I think about them now. Back then, I thought Jordan was being so romantic, but blue roses are artificial; they are not real. That’s exactly how he always viewed me: an ornament, a necessary tool to reach his goal of becoming alpha.
