Rejection on the Alpha #1

33. Superiority Complex

Elias moves into the room, hands tied together, the strain in his cheek told me he was cautious of the atmosphere, but the tenseness and strain he elicits is palpable and would have been distracting, if not for the plead his eyes held for me. Begging for a word. Begging for my time. I had none in good faith for him and none for the elders behind him. I gesture to Martin, he reluctantly walks from the room in a masculine stride.

Elias stares at me, "A Queen can rule under certain conditions."

"I could have your throat slit open for describing these so-called traditions, professor of a useless time and an even dumber coward standing before me. But let's hear your demands like you stand on a podium and hold god's DNA in that otherwise disappointing containment of genes?" I say to him, tilting my head at them.

Elias stares at me, "You've grown into quite the woman."

I was a Queen. The title there, but not accepted. Not when I had plans to go to a secret prestigious academy hidden from everyone who did not receive a private invitation of enrolment, it's a good, handy thing I knew one of the professor's, "I'd watch your tongue too." I point out.

Elias travels his eyes behind me, before he steps closer, "I made a mistake telling you to be with him," he begins with and the line was more cliche than the next fucking werewolf book. I wanted spontaneity, I wanted a grown man, or grown men and instead I got ones who couldn't understand loyalty, respect or devotion and each one of them was older than me by five fold in the very least.

"You can go. Work with the council in simulating treaties among the werewolf states first, then if you're still important enough to write someone else's words and use a pen without making yet another mistake, then perhaps you won't be given to rogues with something I like to call the Dulled Cultures of pills, potions and a personal favourite, poison to kill that Fae magic you think makes you your own goddamn podium." I state.

Elias steps forward before cupping my cheeks and slamming his lips against mine, he's passionate against a mannequin. I shift in amusement at the corner of the room and watch him pull back in shock when I swipe the button on my illusion simulator and he snaps his head around, the other elders do the same as I step out of the walk-in wardrobe and into the room, "This is excellent leverage. An elder...making out with a doll. Not even a real one too, but a faceless, nameless one. See, that simulation you forgot to mention during those trials, during the time you tried to force me to be with an abusive swine, I thought to make a few technical adjustments? Tell me, does this bring about question to the integrity and sane activity of your mental state, Elder? Or do you need to step down for manic, personal reasons?" I ask Elias, ensuring I saved copies of that horrific video.

Alastair pulls his hood off and stares at me indecipherably, "How the hell did you do that?" He whispers.

Always so underestimated.

I move to the door, "I used my brain when I made up my manipulation. You used your dick when you made up yours. Big difference, not just so many more interactive synapses are up here, but there are multiple lobes working multiple things. But where the sun doesn't shine for you and the Fae follower who couldn't tell the difference between a real woman and a fake one, I'd say you're equivalent to a fraction of one brain cell. Let's bring it up a notch during meetings, or your joy will too, be threatened in ways you wish weren't possible yet can't deny that they are, indeed, a possibility for a future you thrived on vengeance when you should have been walking towards fairness and equality. Let me know when those brain cells sizzle back to life? Or if their as dead as your heat is on the inside?" I ask Alastair, putting him and his imbecile in o,ace and those around him still cannot do anything. Useless, worse than the mannequin normally used to hold the slutty chemise for the perverted old paedophilic arseholes in the north wing.

Athena steps up to me when I finally step out of the room. She fist bumps me, "That was the kind of power you need in the temple." She notes.

"Where do you think we're going?"

"I was thinking a club, but certainly, my Queen, let's build up your sad, little powers on this rainy day." I blink at her words. It was raining, I hardly noticed over all the fake men in this kingdom.

She moves towards the room, "How much have you read up on Nocturne?"

"Nothing, there is nothing in this kingdom about a school like this. The one you told me you work at and yet are reluctant to give me more than cryptic comments and suspicious words of lure and probably more manipulation toward me since I'm the target of all arseholes." My sarcasm didn't go unnoticed.

She closes the door and locks it behind her, "What shall we work on today? Fireballs? Tiny candle flames? Attitude? Should I go Kung Fu Panda on your ass, honey?" I look at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't play mind games. Show me how to start a flame. How to control it, narrow it to a single field of vision the way you do on specific people so as to not hear thousands in one room." I had her there, she studies me.

"You've been reading up on elementals." Her question wasn't really one, more so a statement.

Anything to prove these people wrong.

Anything to get out of this life and move on with one that starts with freedom, even if it's a school, it will teach me about a life I should have had, a life I wish I'd known before the hard life of a werewolf, "The fastest way to get out of here."

"Says the Queen who's accepting her position by threatening the unholy dicks of this castle. Literally." She says, folding her arms as she moves further into the humid room that I now see she doesn't quite enjoy.

I study her, "You know what, I want an individual lesson. Just give me some tips and then time. There's a folder on the side dresser in the room I was given. Chores of a Queen, I'm certain you'll enjoy it more than letting your bimbo brother use his mate just to exert power and still lose in the end of tradition." I explain.

She purses her lips, "Smartass."