Rejection on the Alpha #1

33. Superiority Complex

"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.