Chapter 2 After Parties and Conflicts
1221 Words
Kieran’s POV
My head is f*****g killing me.
It feels like someone took a sledgehammer to my skull, and my brain is trying to crawl out through my eye sockets. I groan, low and rough, and shift slightly, but there's this heavy ass weight across my chest. My arms move instinctively, and what the f**k?
My fingers brush over soft, bare skin. One body. Then two.
Brutus groans in my head, “We did it again, didn’t we?”
What the f**k? I hiss internally, refusing to open my eyes.
But the headache, the thickness in the air, the goddamn noise of someone breathing too damn close, it’s all too much. My eyes snap open.
Two girls. Naked. In my f*****g bed.
What. The. Actual. f**k.
I never bring girls to my bed. Ever. I don’t even let them near this part of the damn palace. One is a short blonde with pointed ears—some kind of earth fae, no doubt. The other is a plain human chick, dark brunette, already snoring again like we’re in her f*****g house.
I push up and hiss through clenched teeth. “Get up,” I say, voice thick and dry. No response.
I shake the brunette hard. “I said get the f**k up!”
They both jolt upright like I dumped ice water on them. The blonde stares at me with wide blue eyes and clutches the sheet like it matters now. The brunette stretches like she had the best damn sleep of her life.
“Where’s the fire?” she mutters with a laugh, already slipping her jeans on.
The blonde pouts. “But you said you were taking me shopping after breakfast.”
I blink. “Who the f**k said that?”
She blinks back, offended. “You did. Last night.”
I shake my head. “Well… I f*****g lied. Get your s**t and get the hell out.”
Her jaw drops. “You asshole!”
She storms around the room, grabbing pieces of her clothes, tossing shoes, still yelling. The brunette is calm, already halfway out the door with zero f***s to give.
I link the guards. “Two guests overstayed their welcome. Escort them out. Don’t let the fae throw any tantrums.”
Seconds later, the guards arrive. As expected, the brunette walks without protest. The blonde? Not so much. She starts flinging little vines and roots from her fingers like it’s a goddamn scene from Avatar. One grazes my shoulder.
I growl, low and warning. “Try that s**t again, I’ll snap your wrist.”
They’re gone in under a minute.
I drag myself to the bathroom and crank the shower on cold. I stand under the spray, letting it pummel my back as if it can wash away the hangover and the disgust I feel in my own skin.
“We’ve got to stop this,” Brutus murmurs, groggy in my head. “The drink, the drugs… this isn’t us.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” I mutter.
“You don’t want to hear anything unless it numbs you. But we need to look for our second chance mate...”
“I don’t want a second f*****g chance!” I slam my hand against the tile. “I want her. I want my mate. The one we rejected, remember? That strong, fiery little royal you said was our match? Yeah, well… I f****d that up.”
“You did. And now look at you.”
“Shut the f**k up, Brutus.”
He lets out a raspberry and fades into the back of my mind like the sarcastic bastard he is.
After my shower, I throw on jeans and a black shirt, but I look like s**t. Pale, bloodshot eyes, hair all over the place. I don’t even go to the dining hall anymore. I head straight to the private kitchen, where the cooks have learned to just leave me the f**k alone.
They have a whole spread laid out for me, but I grab a coffee, a bottle of water, and a pack of saltines. My stomach couldn’t handle more than that.
As I make my way out of the palace, my mother stops me, Queen Lisa, Luna of the Western Pack.
“Kieran,” she says sharply. Regal. Cold.
I stop mid-sip and turn. “Yes, Mother?”
Her eyes are pinched. “Where is your father? I haven’t seen him in three days.”
I scoff. “How the f**k should I know? I don’t keep tabs on him.”
She crosses her arms, clearly trying not to explode. “My private investigator lost his trail. I need to know where he is.”
I mutter under my breath, “Probably balls deep in one of his mistresses.”
“What did you say?”
I look her dead in the eye. “Mom, let’s not pretend. Everyone knows he’s got a dozen women in the city. He’s not even subtle anymore.”
“Whatever. You don’t know s**t,” she hisses and pushes past me toward his office.
I shake my head and shove a saltine into my mouth like it might distract me from this circus.
Outside, Ian, my beta, well, future beta, spots me.
“Hey man.”
I grunt, waving half-heartedly. “What’s up?”
“Same old. Unlike you, I actually show up to train.” His voice has a hard edge. “Until you get your s**t together, I can’t ascend. So my dad’s still holding the title.”
“Good for your dad,” I snap. “I haven’t seen mine in days.”
“Because you’re too busy getting high with the new recruits instead of training with your own damn beta.”
I snarl. “You’re always with your mate and your new pup. That’s all you talk about.”
Ian doesn’t back down. “Where else would I be? I love my mate. She keeps me focused. You? You’re spiraling.”
“Your mate’s got a s**t attitude,” I growl. “That’s why I stay away. She’s a f*****g headache.”
And like she’s summoned, Stephanie walks out of the palace, arms crossed. “Who’s got a f*****g attitude?”
I snarl. “Mind your damn business.”
Ian rushes to her side and wraps an arm around her. “Don’t worry, babe. He’s still high.”
“f*****g drug addict,” she spits.
I spin around. “What the f**k did you say?”
“You heard me,” she snaps. “You’re a goddamn mess, Kieran. Always stoned, always drunk, walking around like you didn’t f**k up your own fate.”
“Ian, get your mate before I remind her who the f**k I am.”
“I know who you are,” Stephanie says with a bitter laugh. “The drug addict son of a cheating king. Congrats.”
She storms off. Ian follows with a shrug. “Get your s**t together, man. You look like hell.”
I clench my fists, jaw tight. “f**k him… f**k this entire f*****g pack.”
And just as the words leave my mouth, the alarm sounds.
Rogues. On our land.
“f*****g perfect,” I mutter, shifting as the rage floods my veins.
Time to kill something.
- Writer
