Jessamine
Draw him close, ignite his passion and then, pull away. It is not a rejection, Jessamine. It is an artful retreat, a dance of allure. Make him hunger for more.
My mother taught me things. Too many things. In her state of delirium, I'd thought it was the madness taking her.
But I should've known that she was never mad. She saw, like no one else could. People fear what they do not understand. They tag it as abnormal. Mother, they'd called her mad.
I've never been more proud to inherit that title.
Cloak yourself in an aura of indifference. Men are drawn to challenges. They yearn to tame and unravel that which they do not understand. Become a puzzle. Become something beyond the ordinary. Become...better.
It's like a switch. One I rarely flip. A side to me no one else has seen. A face I have kept hidden.
I'm not like the rest. I'm different. I wasn't born wrong. I was born perfect. This isn't pride. It is a fact. Want to be like me? Read.
Though, I can now have breakfast with them, I ditch it, heading to the training hall where I know the pack warriors and generals will be. More importantly, Beta Randale will be there. He overlooks the training of the warriors, sometimes with Gamma Lloyd, sometimes with Alpha Kier.
Why Beta Randale? Because he's the least suspecting one. The one Alpha Kier would least expect to be caught around me.
Having the Alpha's seal on my scroll worked faster than magic. I have chambermaids and a new wardrobe.
I picked a tight top that clings to my upper body like second skin, and I rip it halfway, so it drops above my abdomen. My new pants are form fitted as well, but not in the least constricting.
My boots hit the steps softly as I walk, and heads turn, one question burning in their eyes.
Where is she going dressed like that?
Where else? I'm going to entice a hall full of men. If I'm going to be Luna one day, I need allies. It'd be much better if they all love me. Love, after all, is a very strong motivation.
But that isn't the end goal. I will entice them, and Alpha Kier will lash out. You'll understand what I mean soon enough.
I make a stop by Alpha Kier's study, shoving a note under his door. Let's talk. Training hall. -- JH.
Walking away leisurely, I reach the training hall, and everyone stops to stare at me. All except the Beta. I pay them no heed, sauntering over to where Beta Randale is punching a dummy. I walk around, stopping within his line of sight.
He lowers his hand from the dummy, panting and wiping sweat from his chin. "This is no place for a woman." His dark eyes flicker over my form. "That is no way to dress around unmated males."
A nonchalant shrug is all I give before hopping on the platform on nimble feet. "Teach me to fight."
"No," he simply says and resumes his assault on the poor dummy. Each hit is a powerful burst, creating wind that stirs my hair, and I marvel at the strength in his arms and legs. If I had even half of that, I wouldn't be worried about the Hunt.
The Wild Hunt. The task in itself is nothing dangerous or wild. A prey will be cut loose in the forest. Usually a rogue. The first to put an arrow through him wins.
That'll be done in the first hour. What makes the Hunt wild, however, is the fact that every Hunt till date has had a surprise infused into it. Perhaps, it will be a pack of coyotes will be set free. Or, deadly traps will be set around the forest. Something wild and different for each selection.
It is no news that contenders take this opportunity to kill off the oppositions they want gone. Or render them unable to continue.
That is what worries me. I'm already an easy kill. Two days isn't nearly enough to learn to fight, but I'm hoping I'll learn something that'll help from Beta Randale, beside using him to achieve my set goal for today.
"Why? Had Lady Moira asked, would you have turned her down? Perhaps, you hate me and wish for me to die in the Hunt. If I did, would you leave my body behind or give me a fitting burial, seeing as you will be the reason I get killed?" Each word is colder than the last, a direct attack to which he must respond because my voice carried well over the crowd and everyone's listening.
Beta Randale stops, turning his dark gaze to me. "Your cheap tricks might work on everyone, but not me. Leave. You're not welcome here."
Cheap? My tricks are cheap? They aren't even tricks. Mother liked to call them Fatal notes.
I let my shoulders slump, so I appear smaller and harmless, and I make my lips quiver. Conjuring up the worst of my memories, I start to sob, hard and fast, raw and authentic. "Why...," I force a hiccup. "What have I done to deserve your hate? Am I truly unwelcome here because--" Another hiccup and I cover my face with my palms. "I'm not like them? First, I am framed and picked on and now...you all want me dead."
Beta Randale pulls my hand down from my face, his eyes livid. "What do you think you're doing?" he whispers, looking back at the men in the hall whose gazes carry sympathy.
Well, that was easy.
I wipe my eyes, sniffing loudly, and a man pulls out of the crowd, approaches us. He is Zane, a new sentry who stops by the kitchen quite a number of times to wave at Amelie. "I can teach her a few steps, Beta, if that is fine with you."
Beta Randale looks from me to Zane and shakes his head. "Get back to your post. I'll do it."
I giggle, not because I'm excited, but I have to look the part.
My ass gets handed to me severely. Beta Randale is a sadist. He doesn't go easy on me, drilling me like I am one of the sentries he's training for battle. It is evident in his whacks and hits that he is angry.
I don't complain, taking the hits, ducking out of the way only when I choose to, eliciting pity from the onlookers. They're whispering between each other, their disapproval with Beta Randale's methods stark in their gazes.
My body suddenly grows taut and the hair on the back of my neck rises. My skin tingles and the feeling goes all the way to my toes, curling them. My back arches and I resist the urge to look back as I feel Alpha Kier.
He's near. About time.
I'm weak, compared to the others in this castle, but being well versed in dancing teaches one or two things about the movement of one's body.
Meaning? I'm not entirely as clueless as I make myself look when it comes to fighting.
When the aura in the room starts to change, Beta Randale looks up, momentarily distracted. I lunge for him then, maneuvering smoothly with a dancer's grace, I crouch low, kicking his foot from under him.
He lands on his back with a thud and I don't allow him a chance to get back on his feet as I leap onto his torso, straddling him.
Beta Randale stares up at me, wide-eyed. I let my eyes widen as well, thinking only about Alpha Kier, so that my pupils dilate. I think about the heat that I had felt under my skin when Alpha Kier started to kiss me back.
I think about his fingers that dug into my thighs as he hoisted me up that wall. I let the lust fill my gaze and my eyes drop to Beta Randale's lips.
Unsurprisingly, his eyes drop to mine as well and my fingers press against his chest to find his heart beating very fast.
Use your eyes, Jessamine. Steal their will. Steal their thoughts. Make them yours.
I lean forward and he watches me, seemingly lost in the trance I have placed him in.
To every warrior in the room, it'd look like I knocked the Beta on his ass and I'm simply owning it by straddling him.
But to the Alpha watching, to the man who had his lips on my neck only yesterday and his hand between my thighs, to the man I had hit and rejected, it'd look like something more intimate.
I make a show to look surprised when Alpha Kier yanks me off Beta Randale. His strength is frightening as he grips my wrist hard enough to snap it. "You little..." He growls the last word under his breath, but I catch it. "Witch."
Laughter bubbles inside me as wicked delight fills me. I stifle it, exaggerating my efforts in trying to release my hand from his grasp.
"Alpha, I--"
It's sudden. Even I don't expect it when Alpha Kier punches Beta Randale. I'd bargained for a brutal reckoning, a few hard words here and there, but this is even more intense. The possessiveness in his grip, the way he pushes me behind him like I am his woman, the guttural snarl that erupts from his lips--music to my ears.
Who, in this moment, would dare utter the words to me: the Alpha isn't yours?