The Alpha King is a Woman
His eyes drag over me like I’m a meal he ordered, paid for, and expects to be served immediately.
“We got a table,” he slurs. “We got drinks. I can make you laugh, promise. Want a joke?” He squints, trying to focus, then jabs a thumb behind him. “My boys said I’m the funniest one in the pack, swear. Especially that idiot—” he points at one of them—“he laughs at anything. Once choked on air, I swear to the gods.”
My eyes flick to the VIP section where his group of overgrown toddlers sits—loud, half-drunk, whistling at me like I’m a performing animal on stage.
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