The Mystical Attraction of Alpha

Sinclair steps close to my other side so that Rafe is between us. My hand still holds Cora’s on my left as Roger steps to her side.
Together, I realize, we present quite a united front: the Alpha King and his demigoddess Queen standing with their much-coveted
child and heir. And then, next us, the Duke and Duchess, likewise a brilliant alpha and a magical goddess-born half -human
hybrid wolf.
I find myself smirking a little at the thought of all of our magnificent formal titles when I know the truth: that we’re honestly just
four people desperately grateful that we’ve been lucky enough to find each other and build a family.
But still, facing this delegation? I’m a little glad that we’ve got some intimidating credentials to speak for us. Brave little mate,
Sinclair says to me down the bond, making my smirk deepen. I’m glad you’re letting them see that you’re not scared of them.
Oh, I’m scared of them, I pass back, not bothering to look up at him for support. But you’re right. There’s no reason for them to
see it.
He gives me a warm nudge of support as the first line of five Atalaxians step forward and give a bow. The man at the far left of
the line steps forward then, beginning to speak. He introduces himself first – the first and most significant member – and then
moves on to each new delegate, who bows his heads to us each in turn.
I turn my head a little as this formal introduction progresses, because this is ...odd. I understand that this reception has a rather
official quality, but each of the greetings we’ve given to each delegation before this has been warm and chatty, with people
introducing themselves warmly or greeting Sinclair and I as old friends, if they know us.
The Atalaxians? They don’t say a word, instead letting their singular speaker do all the work.
Still, I do my best to follow along as Rafe begins to fuss in my arms, not liking something – I don’t know what, though. I hold him
higher, tighter against me, trying to pass a little calmness down our bond so that he can relax, maybe fall asleep. The baby
responds to this, resting his head against my chest a little and settling.
The speaker finishes introducing the first line of delegates, which includes the predictable ambassadors and senators who have
been sent to witness the coronation and have discussions about the future connections between our two nations.
However, when the first row clears, moving away and revealing the second row, I’m surprised to hear the speaker introduce a
Prince, which makes my eyes raise. Why had he not been included in the first row? Wouldn’t he be the highest-ranking
delegate?

I study the Prince as he steps forward and gives his bow, though I admit that I do not catch his name, which I kick myself for. I’m
a Queen now or about to be. I should be paying attention.
When he raises from his bow I find myself a bit struck by him, if I’m being honest. He’s about my age, and tall, with dark hair and
a handsome face with eyes such a light blue-violet that they surprise me in his dark-featured face. While he’s broad shouldered,
he’s a great deal slimmer than my own mate, though the power than emanates from him.
I blink, again surprised. He is...not someone to be trifled with. I don’t know how I know it, but I do – I’m absolutely sure of it. The
prince nods steadily to Sinclair, looking serious but perhaps even a little bored, like he’s done this a thousand times. And then
turns his eyes to me, but when our eyes meet he goes a bit rigid in the shoulders.
My eyes go wide, surprised at his reaction as he stands straight, staring at me for a long moment. Sinclair reacts instantly, a
subtle growl building in his chest as he takes just one step forward.
The Prince comes back to himself in a second, his eyes flicking to Sinclair before he regains his bored composure, nodding to
me, and then to Cora, and then to Roger before stepping back in line.
Surprised, confused, I look up at my mate, whose shoulders are stiff with displeasure.
What...what on earth just happened?
That line of delegates is dismissed and Rafe starts to fuss again in my arms, unhappy.
I begin to coo to him, upset that he’s upset. Honestly, my sweet baby hardly ever cries, instead letting us know what he needs
through little taps and pulses down the bond to which we respond as quickly as we can. It’s honestly the best part of being a wolf
mother – and an aspect of it I never really considered until Rafe came along.
I look up at Sinclair, worried. “I think I have to take him out,” I murmur, glancing down at the baby.
A moment, my mate replies, mind-to-mind, though he reaches out a hand behind me to settle on my back. I need us all here, for
this delegation at least. If he cries, he cries. And I nod, understanding and turning back to the crowd.
The third line of Atalaxian delegates disappears, and the fourth moves forward. I watch passively as they each step forward and
nod to us. I nod in turn, though I admit that my attention is decidedly focused on my son, who cries in earnest now, unhappy. I
hold him tight, bouncing him in my arms, worried and wanting him to feel better.

I send a little curious pulse down the line, which has worked before sometimes he passes me an emotion, or has even given me
a brief impression of the thing he wants –
But today, nothing. He’s just upset. My eyes are totally focused on the baby, ignoring the final members of the delegation in my
maternal concern for my son, when suddenly the speaker’s words catch my immediate attention.
“Our final delegate,” the speakers says, “is Duke Xander of Moon Valley, who has been given honorary citizenship in Atalaxia for
his services as advisor to the King.”
My eyes flash up, going wide as they focus on my uncle, the man who tried to steal my son.
Inside me my gift flares hot with rage, channeling something from Cora’s that speaks to heat, and burning, and destruction –
She grabs my arm, sensing it, and I can feel her own fear in her grip, but something about it works – she holds me back from
reacting at all, giving me a moment to reel myself back in. It was the right choice, I see, as Sinclair immediately steps forward for
both of us, glaring down at the Duke.
“You should have asked,” he growls, violence in every line of him now, and I can feel him holding himself back from murdering
Xander this instant, “about whether this man was welcome upon our nation’s soil. Because he is not. This man is a war criminal,
and wanted for several crimes in Moon Valley – including the attempted kidnapping of our Prince.”
Sinclair takes another step forward, clearly ready to either tear Xander to pieces or take him into custody – I honestly don’t know
which –
Xander an old, wrinkled man with cruelty in every line of his face – just smirks up at Sinclair, not moving an inch.
But the Atalaxian speaker – a high- ranking senator himself – steps forward then, interceding. “Alpha Sinclair,” he says, his word
heavy with the acknowledgement that my mate is not yet King, “Duke Xander is a protected member of our delegation an
Ambassador. If you harm him or take him into custody, it will be considered an act of war.”
Sinclair’s growl deepens as he turns violent eyes on the senator now. “And did you think it would not be war already, when you
brought him as a member of your delegation? After, surely, you know all he has done to us, to our family?”
“We had hoped,” the senator drawls, a smug look coming to his face, “that you’d be more reasonable than that, Alpha.”

Rage continues to burn hot within me as I stare at the old man before me who looks fixedly at the baby in my arms, and doesn’t
bother – not even once to raise his eyes to me.
Rafe wails with displeasure, perhaps feeling my rage and my fear, perhaps... god, I don’t know, perhaps sensing some
malevolence from this man as well-
Cora’s hand tightens on my arm and I nod slightly, just once, letting her know that I’m not going to do anything stupid. I feel her
hand hesitate, and then loosen, just a little bit.
Sinclair, to my surprise, takes a step back. I snap my gaze up to him because honestly, I was looking forward to seeing this
man’s blood on his claws. But then I remember, of course, that he is a King now or at least, close enough.
And damn it, it will be war if we kill Xander now. I settle uncomfortable under the realization that part of the responsibilities of rule
mean measuring our vengeance against what is good for our nation.
And so I send Sinclair a little pulse of support as he steps back, even though my wolf scrabbles and claws in me to be let loose,
to be allowed to rip his throat out.
Sinclair doesn’t check his glare, or his growl, as Xander steps back into line with the rest of the Atalaxian ranks. And I know that
hatred radiates from all of us as the delegation as a whole moves away. I keep my eyes on them, every step.
And I note that the only one who looks back is the violet-eyed prince.
Who looks directly at me.