The Proposal

*Maddox*

I hear the word come out of Alpha Ernest’s mouth, watch his gums flap as his fat cheeks shift into a smile, his greasy mustache dancing as he tips his head up and blinks at me.

He’s like a shoddy used car salesman, trying to convince me to take something I don’t want or need.

Something that’s broken and doesn’t even work correctly—something that will never serve its intended purpose.

What he doesn’t know is that I’ve already been considering finding a breeder for the last few months. I just haven’t had the time to try to find a woman who would fit the requirements.

Everything he’s said is true. I certainly don’t ever want to marry again, no matter what. Even thinking about my wife makes my heart tighten up and my eyes begin to water. I have to immediately push her beautiful face from my mind. No, I will not ever take another bride.

That means, in order to have an heir, I have to find a woman who’d be willing to carry my child knowing that there are no strings attached.

That simply cannot happen with any of the women at court. They all want something more.

They all want me.

Finding a woman from one of the other pack lands has always been a possibility, and I’ve had a few Alphas mention their daughters from time to time, but I’ve never wanted to put a loyal Alpha in a position where I’d be using their daughter in such a manner. Whoever carries my child will essentially be unable to ever marry and have a normal life.

What other man would ever want her? Even if she found her fated mate, he’d know that she’d been with me, the Alpha King, and he’d never, ever be able to live up to those standards.

She’d live the rest of her life by herself, discarded and alone.

Who would want that?

Apparently, Alpha Ernest has found someone who won't mind. I need to know more.

“Who is the girl?” I ask, trying not to sound too interested, like I am humoring him. It isn’t too hard for me. My reputation for being abundantly cruel isn’t completely unfounded.

“Her name is Isla Moon, Alpha Maddox. She is a member of my pack. Today, she came in and asked if I had any odd jobs she could do to pay off the debt she owes me, and I offered her this one. She accepted.”

He is holding something back. I can tell by the way his eyes are wide, the way he shrugs his shoulders as he speaks. There has to be more to Isla’s story than this. “Why does she owe you money?” I ask him.

He only shrugs. “Family debt. I’m not sure.”

I study his face. He is lying. He knows exactly what it is. I wonder if the girl has been manipulated to be here of if she came of her own free will. Had she heard about the handsome, mysterious Alpha King and wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to spend some time in his castle and frequent his bed?

I also want to make sure she isn’t some prostitute who is going to make me sick. “Has she been… inspected?”

“No,” he says. “But that’s not necessary. The girl is a virgin.”

I scoffed. “How do you know that?”

 “I’ve known her for her entire life,” he says quickly. “My pack is small. I know everyone. Of course, if you are worried, you can send your physicians in to see. If I am lying, I would gladly pay you twice what I owe you, sir. I would never deceive you about such a thing.” I raise my eyebrows. He realizes he slipped up. “I would never deceive you about anything.”

Somehow, I doubt that. “What does she look like?” I ask.

“She’s beautiful,” he tells me. “She’s outside the door.”

I shake my head. I don’t want to see her yet.

“She’s a small girl, about this tall.” He raises his hand to show me she’s about five foot two or so. “She has long, blonde hair that is curly, and her eyes are wide and blue. Her skin is smooth like porcelain and bright. She’s a bit skinny, I think, but she has large breasts and curvy hips.”

I close my eyes and slowly shake my head at his crassness. It shouldn’t surprise me. I wonder if the girl can hear us. “Is she intelligent?” I don’t want my heir to be an idiot.

“Oh, yes. She did very well in school. Top of her class. She went to college for a couple of years but had to drop out for… some reason.” Again, he is holding back. He knows why. “She’s a sweet girl. You will enjoy her.” He winks at me, and I know he means sexually.

It makes my skin crawl because I know he wishes that he could enjoy her.

I don’t know why the girl has decided to come with him here, but I won’t be sending her back home with him, not today anyway.

I have a lot to do today, including a dinner party with an Alpha from a distant region. I decide I will keep her and possibly speak to her for a bit before I determine what to do. While it does sound like her services may be the solution to my problems, I’m not sure I’m ready for all of these complications.

“How old is she?” I ask him.

“Twenty, I think,” he says.

Twenty. She is young. When I was twenty, my father was still alive. I wasn’t even the Alpha King yet.

It seems like a very long time ago.

The image of my wife’s face flutters in front of my mind, and my mouth wants to move of its own accord.

“Rebecca….”

I don’t say her name. I’ve learned not to. It makes people question my sanity, and since they already do that enough over my alleged viciousness, there’s no reason to have them think I’m seeing ghosts as well.

If there’s one thing they don’t need to worry about it's me seeing Rebecca. I’ve looked everywhere for her and have never seen her, not even once.

Not even in my dreams.

“What do you say, Alpha Maddox? Why don’t we make this agreement? Take the girl. Enjoy her. If she gets pregnant and gives you an heir in the next year, my debts are erased. If she does not… I will find another way to repay you… plus interest.”

Alpha Ernest extends his hand to me. I take a deep breath and look at his palm, not sure whether I should shake his hand or not.

Do I want to take the girl and keep her as a breeder—or send her back home with this man, possibly to her family, or possibly to become some sort of sex slave to him?

***

Isla

“This way. Keep up, and don’t touch anything.”

I follow along behind the tall, middle-aged, blonde woman in a suit as she walks very quickly through the castle. She’s wearing a pair of gray slacks and a black jacket, the shirt beneath with a white collar that’s buttoned up to her chin. Her hair is in a tight bun, and she has her nose in the air. She seems very proper, and I don’t think she’s very nice.

I do my best to keep up, but she’s walking so fast, and I have no idea where we are going or why we are going there. I didn’t hear much of the conversation between Alpha Ernest and Alpha Maddox. Once Alpha Ernest offered to sell me to Alpha Maddox to get rid of his debts, they began to negotiate much quieter, and I don’t know what’s happening now.

I walk through narrow halls, through larger openings that have pieces of artwork like vases and paintings, and even some suits of armor. Everything is regal and expensive as it had been before, and I wouldn’t touch anything even if she hadn’t told me to because I am afraid I might break something.

Everything here looks like it is worth more than my family makes in a year.

“I have no idea why Mr. Thompson, the butler, has asked me to show you to this room,” the woman says as I follow along, carrying my bag in front of me and trying to keep up. “But apparently, the king has asked him to. I, personally, think it must be a mistake, judging by how you’re dressed.”

My eyes immediately drop down to see what I am wearing, and I remember that I didn’t have much time to get ready to come on this journey. I am still wearing a black skirt and white blouse I had put on for work that morning under my black cloak. My shoes are old tennis shoes that have a hole in one toe, and because they are wet from the rain, they squeak a little. I’m sure she loves that.

“I asked him if he meant for me to show you to the maids’ quarters, but he said no. I was to show you to this suite. Whatever in heaven’s name the king has in mind for you, it’s none of my business, but perhaps he’s got it in his head that you’re from Alpha Jordan’s pack, Maple pack, though none of them have arrived yet. I’ll set him straight in a bit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, trying to be polite.

She stops and spins around, her dark eyes like daggers. “I am the head of the staff here at Castle Blackthorn. You will address me as Mrs. Worsthingshorethinshire. Do you understand me?”

I stare at her for a long moment, wondering why she would address a guest in such a way. Her eyes are wild, and I imagine a maid would get a slap across the face for such an offense. I’m not even sure how to answer since I’m quite certain I cannot repeat back that name.

I most certainly will not say, “Yes, ma’am.”

So instead, I nod my head. “Beg your pardon,” I say.

She continues to stare at me for what seems like a minute or two before she says, “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Worsthingshorethinshire.”

I clear my throat and say, “I beg your pardon Mrs. Worsthingshurtinshirthenshire.”

She takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “Worthingshorethinshire. It’s not that difficult!”

I am afraid she’s going to make me try and say it again, but she doesn’t. Instead, she spins around and starts walking once more, and I follow, feeling sorry for the maids who have to answer to her and attempting to practice her name as I go.

I do not like her at all, this Mrs. Worsthingstirshorethinsire… or whatever her name is.

And I just want to go home.

“Your room, for now, is just down the hall from the king’s room. But don’t expect it to stay that way. Because, as I said, I believe there has been a mistake.”

We round a corner quickly, and I run into a table. The contents, a silver bowl and a vase, clatter, and she turns around and comes at me. “Be careful!” she shouts.

“I’m so sorry!” I say, praying that nothing falls.

She rights the bowl and steadies the vase, shaking her head as she does so. “I told you not to touch anything. If that happens again, you’re going to wish you never stepped foot in this castle! I don’t care who you are or why you’re here, young lady! In my castle, under my watch, there are consequences for breaking rules!”

I take a step backward, feeling myself shrink a bit with each shout. I know I must try to say her name again as she towers over me, her face red with rage.

“Yes, Mrs. Worthersthershirhirethire.”

“That’s not even close!” she screams in my face. “You’re incorrigible, aren’t you! It’s no wonder someone brought you here and left you!”

I wonder how she knows that, but I say nothing, only watch the veins in her neck protrude.

I have seen that before, right before my boss at the flour mill would hit me because I dropped a bag or before my boss at the diner would beat me for accidentally spilling a tray of food. I’m not clumsy, but I’m not that strong. Eventually, after working eighteen or nineteen hours, I would grow tired, and things would slip.

I am afraid she’s going to hit me now, but she doesn’t. She only walks a few more steps before she produces a key and unlocks a door.

We walk inside what must be an antechamber because there’s another door. This room is mostly empty. Just a little sitting area and a table with another vase on it. It’s quaint and pretty.

She props the main door open with a doorstop and then continues. “These are your rooms, for now,” she says, leading me to the other door.

As she pushes the other door open, I step aside and bump the table, slightly, with my hip. I think nothing of it, though, because these are my rooms.

Until I feel pain radiating through the side of my face and am knocked off of my feet, falling to the floor as my bag goes flying free from my hands so that I can try to catch myself.

“I told you not to touch anything!” she screams at me.

Shocked, I sit there on the floor for a moment, trying to grasp what has just happened. Did she just hit me for bumping a table in my own chambers?

Am I not supposed to sleep in the bed the king has appointed for me?

Or sit on any chairs?

Before I can react, she reaches down and grabs me by the collar of my cloak, yanking me to my feet. She is so much bigger than me, and stronger. She is shaking me as she screams, “Who do you think you are, coming in here and messing things up? You little tramp? She slaps me again, and this time, I manage to get my arm up to partially block it, but I still feel her hand make contact with my cheek. Over and over again, she swings at me, and it’s all I can do to keep her from knocking me down again.

Until I hear a commanding voice shout, “What on earth are you doing?”