Rejection on the Alpha #1
33

CHAPTER 33: Superiority Complex

I believed the incredulous moment when a polished, century-old crown would grace the head of an entitled heir to a throne that needed to advance its times and perhaps its knowledge considering the crowning of Nicolai Darkling felt more like a ridiculous stage of bullshit. The man that looked more like the Pope lowers it onto the crowning of Martin’s head.

Females didn’t have crowns or even tiaras, they had fancy, tight corsets and perverted freaks who think this initiation is actually happening, “Ladies and Gentlemen, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the crowning of King Nicolai the third Darkling, the Alpha of the Darkling realm and leader to all alphas. We are here for the overjoyed reunion...” His voice gets drained from my mind like a boring teacher talking about aetiology.

Martin’s sharp silver eyes penetrate the atmosphere. It’s not long before the atmosphere changes towards the meals. Soup was given to me and meat to everyone else. I look at Martin, “This your doing?” I ask him.

He glances at me, “Not to your liking, dear?” He asks me.

I stare at him blankly.

“My King, I believe now would be a good time to speak of your initiation. Your request for privacy and confidentiality does not accurately apply to the rules and regulations of tradition toward the initiation night. We believe it would be far more proper if the initiation was undergone in the east wing, it is a more private and romantic setting for you and your—” I cut the Pope off.

“If you say one more word about you and your pack of councillors about your perverted pornography stunts because you all can’t get it up nor can you get women, I will shove your dick back up straight to your large intestine and sew it up until you shrivel up in your own fluids and die with everything not knowing whether you had testicles or a vagina.” I say to him, strictly. Athena cracks up laughing as the council look mortified by my threat.

Matin purses his lips as he blinks to hide his troubled laughter too.

The Pope can’t look away from me, I give him a sickly smile, “Don’t think I won’t do it, it’s a new development morgues use to learn more about the male anatomy, you can be the next test subject.” I suggest, optimistic. He looks pale, sickly enough to perhaps vomits his guts up. A girl could dream.

I grab my glass of wine while Elias and the rest of the bloody Elders try increasingly hard to stay staring at the perfected porcelain pieces with artistic meat and intricate vegetables shaped to make an alluring piece. Pathetic. People were starving in the human realm and packs were struggling with more problems than most and here Martin was, along with the rest of the village idiots thinking they held power.

They didn’t know the definition, “King Nicolai, will you stop her indiscretions?” Of course they’d ask for him. Fools follow fools.

“The east wing is the new war room, hope you’ll find the memories in there to influence accurate and ethical decisions for the upcoming strategies and meetings on making the world a better place. Of ethical constructs and the essence of equality. No man would be here without a woman. Someone had the consequence of birthing you, councillors, I can right the world with your deaths.” I threaten, my tongue sharper than a werewolf bite to a vampire.

I walked away with no complaints, no consequences behind my tongue and Martin’s managerial attitude that now was dulled because of my nanobots. His superiority complex went from a thousand to negative one thousand and all I fucking had to do was inject those things in him. Make him susceptible to my suggestion and to stop his toxic behaviour from seeing light again.

I knew I was being followed, Alastair’s plans were narrowed and working, until my whirlwind destroyed his manipulations, “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Alastair spits behind me. I needed more nanobots for him.

“If you touch me, you die. If you argue, you die. I don’t care how ancient you are, your power means nothing because I believe somewhere in there is a partially respectable yet coldly corrosive maniac who needs to understand that I am no pawn. Look at me, old King. Do I look easily persuaded? Do I look easily used? If you had shown me respect, I may have worked in favour so long as I didn’t have to work with an abusive swine whom you were happy to force on me without any care. So, unless you have something useful to contribute and not just the tantrum of yet another king not getting his way because of me, then take your hide and turn it back toward the court room.” I point to those double doors as he stares at me like he can’t unravel the maze that is me.

It’s bland, it’s blank.

He clenches his jaw, I stare at him. Waiting, “Nothing. Speechless king, I’m guessing having a dick isn’t the equivalent of the superior brain, guess not? Have a great day, you saggy, old, piece of moronic shit” I clap my hand once, any shocks of cool power that was shown when he saved my burning tree was thrown to the garbage now. I won’t be used or held back, especially not be the likes of him and his trusty follower, Elias Cardinal.

Great name, fucked up arsehole.

I turn away from the gobsmacked king and traipse down the halls of the castle. The east wing looked like a disgusting brothel, the maids outside, I call them in, “I need this entire room cleaned out. Everything you find, I want burned.” I order, the Queen is the most important piece, only when there is a drugged up compliant king that can’t make one decision without my approval.

The room is trudged open and everything is pulled out, they called this bullshit room a tradition in the werewolf kind. Animalistic and dirty, standing against the cliches, the stereotypes of wolves pelts and howls, I would tear this kingdom down first, then those in it.

Martin steps into the room, seeing the movement, “No initiation?”

“Do you want to keep your tongue?” I ask a legitimate question. He purses his lips and raises an eyebrow at me. I study the view outside once the curtains had been ripped off of them. I expected a view, not the ruins of a damaging kingdom playing dress up behind the protected walls of the castle, missing out on the chaos beyond these gargoyle walls.

“You need it.”

“You can’t talk without it. Making it all the more tempting.” I state.

“I had meant that for you.” He says to me, leaning against the cushioned window sill.

He studies me, “You did something to me. I feel it...but I’m not fighting it. And I’m rarely angry, you don’t need to reapply whatever you gave me and...I miss you. I hardly see you.” He murmurs, eyes trailing over my collarbone like he could physically touch my skin.

“That’s a good thing. Your violence is kept at bay and so is mine, by not having to see your face.” I mention.

He moves to lean back against the framing, facing me, “I’m sorry.” It’s sincerity went through one ear and out the other. I could not accept or forget it. A mate was meant to protect and if not accepted, they acknowledge the moment, evaluate it and walk away, choose wisdom over abusive anger and he knew nothing. He did not see what his actions caused.

“Get out.” I instruct.

He stands, obeying the order. “The decisions I made was...wrong on more than one account. I know that. After—whatever you put in me, I can’t read you anymore. Even when I’m around you and I know you will never believe me, you do mean a lot to me. I hurt you, I had,Ed what I was supposed to protect—Elder Elias, this is a private conversation.” Martin threatens in the undertones of a possessiveness that had no right to be there.

Elias moves into the room, hands tied together, the strain in his cheek told me he was cautious of the atmosphere, but the tenseness and strain he elicits is palpable and would have been distracting, if not for the plead his eyes held for me. Begging for a word. Begging for my time. I had none in good faith for him and none for the elders behind him. I gesture to Martin, he reluctantly walks from the room in a masculine stride.

Elias stares at me, “A Queen can rule under certain conditions.”

“I could have your throat slit open for describing these so-called traditions, professor of a useless time and an even dumber coward standing before me. But let’s hear your demands like you stand on a podium and hold god’s DNA in that otherwise disappointing containment of genes?” I say to him, tilting my head at them.

Elias stares at me, “You’ve grown into quite the woman.”

I was a Queen. The title there, but not accepted. Not when I had plans to go to a secret prestigious academy hidden from everyone who did not receive a private invitation of enrolment, it’s a good, handy thing I knew one of the professor’s, “I’d watch your tongue too.” I point out.

Elias travels his eyes behind me, before he steps closer, “I made a mistake telling you to be with him,” he begins with and the line was more cliche than the next fucking werewolf book. I wanted spontaneity, I wanted a grown man, or grown men and instead I got ones who couldn’t understand loyalty, respect or devotion and each one of them was older than me by five fold in the very least.

“You can go. Work with the council in simulating treaties among the werewolf states first, then if you’re still important enough to write someone else’s words and use a pen without making yet another mistake, then perhaps you won’t be given to rogues with something I like to call the Dulled Cultures of pills, potions and a personal favourite, poison to kill that Fae magic you think makes you your own goddamn podium.” I state.

Elias steps forward before cupping my cheeks and slamming his lips against mine, he’s passionate against a mannequin. I shift in amusement at the corner of the room and watch him pull back in shock when I swipe the button on my illusion simulator and he snaps his head around, the other elders do the same as I step out of the walk-in wardrobe and into the room, “This is excellent leverage. An elder...making out with a doll. Not even a real one too, but a faceless, nameless one. See, that simulation you forgot to mention during those trials, during the time you tried to force me to be with an abusive swine, I thought to make a few technical adjustments? Tell me, does this bring about question to the integrity and sane activity of your mental state, Elder? Or do you need to step down for manic, personal reasons?” I ask Elias, ensuring I saved copies of that horrific video.

Alastair pulls his hood off and stares at me indecipherably, “How the hell did you do that?” He whispers.

Always so underestimated.

I move to the door, “I used my brain when I made up my manipulation. You used your dick when you made up yours. Big difference, not just so many more interactive synapses are up here, but there are multiple lobes working multiple things. But where the sun doesn’t shine for you and the Fae follower who couldn’t tell the difference between a real woman and a fake one, I’d say you’re equivalent to a fraction of one brain cell. Let’s bring it up a notch during meetings, or your joy will too, be threatened in ways you wish weren’t possible yet can’t deny that they are, indeed, a possibility for a future you thrived on vengeance when you should have been walking towards fairness and equality. Let me know when those brain cells sizzle back to life? Or if their as dead as your heat is on the inside?” I ask Alastair, putting him and his imbecile in o,ace and those around him still cannot do anything. Useless, worse than the mannequin normally used to hold the slutty chemise for the perverted old paedophilic arseholes in the north wing.

Athena steps up to me when I finally step out of the room. She fist bumps me, “That was the kind of power you need in the temple.” She notes.

“Where do you think we’re going?”

“I was thinking a club, but certainly, my Queen, let’s build up your sad, little powers on this rainy day.” I blink at her words. It was raining, I hardly noticed over all the fake men in this kingdom.

She moves towards the room, “How much have you read up on Nocturne?”

“Nothing, there is nothing in this kingdom about a school like this. The one you told me you work at and yet are reluctant to give me more than cryptic comments and suspicious words of lure and probably more manipulation toward me since I’m the target of all arseholes.” My sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed.

She closes the door and locks it behind her, “What shall we work on today? Fireballs? Tiny candle flames? Attitude? Should I go Kung Fu Panda on your ass, honey?” I look at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t play mind games. Show me how to start a flame. How to control it, narrow it to a single field of vision the way you do on specific people so as to not hear thousands in one room.” I had her there, she studies me.

“You’ve been reading up on elementals.” Her question wasn’t really one, more so a statement.

Anything to prove these people wrong.

Anything to get out of this life and move on with one that starts with freedom, even if it’s a school, it will teach me about a life I should have had, a life I wish I’d known before the hard life of a werewolf, “The fastest way to get out of here.”

“Says the Queen who’s accepting her position by threatening the unholy dicks of this castle. Literally.” She says, folding her arms as she moves further into the humid room that I now see she doesn’t quite enjoy.

I study her, “You know what, I want an individual lesson. Just give me some tips and then time. There’s a folder on the side dresser in the room I was given. Chores of a Queen, I’m certain you’ll enjoy it more than letting your bimbo brother use his mate just to exert power and still lose in the end of tradition.” I explain.

She purses her lips, “Smartass.”

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