Page 12 of The Alpha King's Mate

A bell.

Of course there was a bell.

“Questions?” she asked, in the tone of a woman who had allotted no time for any.

I had a hundred. I asked none of them.

“No,” I said.

Something flickered across her face—approval or pity, it was gone too fast to tell.

“Good. Then let’s get you in your… uniform. I’ll print you a copy of your duties. Study them as if your life depends on it.”

When I saw the uniform, I understood her hesitation. I touched the cream material and could see my fingers through it. I gaped at her.

“We all serve him,” she said, as if discussing the weather.“Our Alpha has not found his mate.”

? ? ?

My room was small, but it had a bed, a pillow, and a thick, warm blanket. One nightstand. A dresser. Luxury, compared to the basement at my father’s house.

I stared at the list of duties. They were manageable.

My issue was the dress.

The darker, thicker beige underlayer was comfortable enough, but the transparent chiffon above it left my breasts bare. There were three dresses in total. One grey, two cream. All of them with the same off-shoulder transparent bodice. The ties at the back laced tight to cinch the fabric in at my waist.

The small mirror conveyed my fear.

I’d never had time to inspect my body before. I’d never realised my nipples were so prominent, so dark. I was about to check whether the grey dress was any better when the bell above my bed rang.

I checked his schedule for the day. He was in his office.

Once I’d slipped the soft pumps onto my feet, I rushed downstairs, which only drove the cool air against my breasts through the thin material. Hopefully the cold shrank my nipples.

I paused when I reached his door and took a deep breath before raising my hand to knock. There was no answer, so I pushed the handle down and opened the door—and swallowedwhen I saw the Alpha King behind his desk, two of his men seated in front of him, Zev standing at his side. I cleared my throat before I spoke.

“You rang?”

“Yes. Pour us some scotch on the rocks,” he said.

I stepped inside and scanned the room, only to find the drinks were directly behind him.

“Yes, sir,” I said, keeping my gaze lowered—because I wanted to take one of the crystal decanters and bash his head in.

I was grateful for the food and several days of rest in peace. But this was—how could one Alpha be so pampered?

When I crossed the room, all eyes followed me. No one spoke. No one moved. The tension pulled so taut that the ticking of the wall clock sounded like a gavel. My hands trembled as I assembled the glasses on the cart. Crystal chimed against crystal, obscenely loud. When I tugged the stopper from the decanter, the pop seemed to shatter the silence.

A conversation started up behind me—low, male, deliberately casual—and I relaxed enough to build the drinks. This work I knew. My father had hosted many business dinners, and Deeana had demanded perfect service for every guest.

The scotch smelled of smoke and oak as it ran over the ice. Expensive. Older than me, probably.

I added the ice to the last glass on autopilot.

Had I not learned to fight, my dignity would have been lost many years ago. Every beating that followed had been worth it.

Men, women. It didn’t matter.