Torn Between Two Alpha Brothers

Tension and Flaring Tempers

KLAUS:

"Where is the heirloom?" My mother asks as soon as she walks into my chambers.

I pause midair, my hand resting on the pure gold cufflinks embedded into the button hole of my sleeve before I turn to find her standing in the middle of my room, looking at me in displeasure. "What do you mean?"

"I looked at her finger this afternoon when she came down, it was empty."

I ignore her for the next minute, buttoning up my shirt and zipping the fly of my slacks before turning to face her. "She has a name, you know? Her name is Greta."

"And I will not repeat yet again, that I do not care. Do you understand that?!" She snaps, her eyes blazing with anger. The last time I saw her look this way had been years ago, when a fake pregnancy was pinned on me by one of the women I used to sleep around with. "You are still too young to understand the repercussions of what you are about to venture into but since you have chosen not to listen to your mother, I have washed my hands off anything in regards to your affair with that woman."

"Alright then," I reply tersely, feeling my temper rise. "I have never been the one to seek approval, not even from you. I respect you as my mother but you will not talk down to Greta. You will not burden neither of us with your trauma!"

She bursts into laughter before nodding. "Of course. Do whatever pleases you. But I need the heirloom returned in a week so it can be returned to its resting place. You are my son but I will not let you ruin the Hoffmann bloodline by involving yourself with an outcast and your Stepsister."

As soon as the door bangs shut to announce her leaving, I take a seat on the edge of my bed, burying my fingers into my hair.

I didn't think it was going to be this hard to have everyone turn their back against you. I have lived my whole life, having the support of my people who are now my subjects and even if the news of my upcoming wedding hasn't been announced around the Kingdom, I already know that everyone will be against my marriage to an outcast.

I decide to push my problems behind me, it will always get solved in due time. . .hopefully. Dinner is in ten minutes and I have to get Greta from her room because I am as sure as hell that she isn't stepping out if I don't make her.

Thirty minutes ago, I asked the maids to dress her up and on getting to her room, I find her seated in front of the vanity table, her back as straight as a pin and a dead expression on her face. If I didn't know how beautifully expressive she was, even though we'd met a few times, I'd believe she was just a shell of herself.

I quietly shut the door behind me, wondering why she hasn't sensed my presence. That means she doesn't have a wolf—yet.

She startles when my hand presses on the warmth of her bare skin, turning to look at me, her hazel eyes as wide as saucers before she slips out of her chair.

I catch her by the arm before she falls, pulling her flush against me. Like a reflex action, my free arm wraps around her slender waist and while she is still recovering from the shock of almost planting her face to the ground, I drink her in.

Her hair has always been a strikingly beautiful color of platinum, like she had it bleached. But her roots are as pale as the other parts of her hair so I know it is natural. If she is my father's daughter, then she must look a lot like her mother.

While my father had mouse brown hair— which I fortunately didn't take, hers is blonde. Platinum blond. Her eyes are a mixture of sage green and honey brown with specks or orange dotting around her inner irises. My father's were gray.

She looks nothing like him. And of course, if the tales my mother is spinning are true—no offense to her—I do not blame my father for sleeping with Greta's mother, because that woman must have been really beautiful to have captured his attention.

Don't spin this f*****g tale in my head, Aries. I warn my wolf, knowing fully well that he's the one pushing those thoughts into my head.

My gaze returns back to Greta's face when she pulls away from me and that is when I see the mark on her face. Aries was right.

She has a f*****g black eye. And although it is faded, I can not stop myself from drawing close to her and grazing my finger over that spot. She flinches and turns her face away from me, her breath intensifying.

Her heart beats faster than usual and I can tell what she is feeling by that mere noticing. She is afraid, she wants to hide everything away from me.

Deciding that I do not want to make her uncomfortable, I refrain from asking her a question that does nothing but boggle my mind.

"You must be hungry. Dinner is in less than ten minutes. We should be at the table by now."

"I am not hungry," She replies, looking up at me. I see the tears that brim in her eyes. I yearn to make her feel better, to hurt that bastard that gave her this bruise. I know who did it but I must hear her say the words before I do something that will make her hate me for life. "I better go to bed."

Before she walks away, I grab her by the wrist, stopping her. "I insist, Greta. You have no option this time. You must join us at the dinner table."

I nearly melt into a puddle when she looks up at me, her jaw trembling. "Why do you want me at the table? Your mother will be there. She despises me and I honestly don't have an appetite. I'd like to remain in bed, taking in everything that has happened for the past few days at a time and beating myself up for being so greedy that I let a common twenty grand sway me." She wipes a stray tear before sniffling.

"Greta," I pull close to her, looking down at her and holding back the insane yearning to kiss her. "In due time, you will understand what's going on."

"Why not now?" She questions.

"Because it is beyond us both," I sigh. "I mean no harm. Can we start all over again?"

She snatches her hand away from me, her glare intensifying. "I'd rather sit at the dinner table with your mother than brush things out with a brute like you!"

With those words, she stomps out of the room in a fit of rage and I stand back, watching her hair dance from side to side to the sway of her ample backside which I am just noticing.

"Damn, she's hotter than we ever imagined."

"Shut the f**k up, Aries."

******

Dinner is quieter than usual. Ever since Lea left a year ago for her expedition in Africa, I have spent most days having dinner with my mother.

On some days, we fill each other in on how our day went and on others, we just eat in silence, helping each other with salt and wine. The days I enjoy the most are the days she has a few of her friends over for dinner. There, I can fall back and be the observer without feeling the need to fill the silence.

But tonight, the tension in the room is thick enough to be cut through by a saber. My mother is more focused on eating and Greta looks really bored and tired, pushing her food around her plate.

Now, I feel like I shouldn't have made her join us at the dinner table.

Greta finally reaches for a glass of water but her hand shifts and hits the glass, causing it to tip over and pour all over the table before she can save it. Immediately, she grabs a napkin and begins to clean up before I stand to my feet and decide to help.

My mother snaps her head up, her fingers tightening around her fork before she places it gently on her plate.

"Were you not taught proper etiquette, young lady?"

Greta looks up at her and I continue to clean the soaked spill, waiting for Greta's response.

"It was a mistake, your majesty. I am really sorry." Greta replies quietly and I let out a sigh of relief.

"I asked you a question. You surely don't have comprehension issues, do you?" My mother replies, her voice going notches higher with each word she says. "Were you not taught proper etiquette?"

Greta squeezes the napkin and I notice she has started to swing her leg from side to side. It is a symptom of anxiety. Aries growls within me but I shut him out before he takes control of my emotions. I am not in the best state of control right now.

"I was." She finally replies.

"Then why is holding onto a cup of water hard for you? Are you a child?"

"Mother!" I snap, looking up at her and tossing the wet napkin on my hand to the table. "Enough of this."

Her eyes narrow at me and I am once again, stricken by the resemblance we both share. "You dare speak to me with disrespect in front of this filth—"

"I will not have you say harsh words to Greta." I stamp my hand on the table. "She has done nothing to you so stop it!"

My mother rises to her feet and shakes her head. "She doesn't belong here, Klaus. No matter how hard you try to push her into my face, she will never be a part of this family. She is not welcome here!"

She stomps out of the dining room and I stand there, wondering where the hell all of these started.

I hear a sniffle and the next moment, Greta is sobbing beside me. When I turn to take her hand, she pulls harshly away from me before rising to her feet. "I never wanted to be here anyway! I did not ask to belong here with your family! Everything I have done is against my own will and yet, I bear the brunt of it!"

"Greta," I pull close to her but she raises her hand to stop me. "Hear me out, please. I know how unfavorable this is for you but—"

She shakes her head and backs away from me. "Life has never been favorable for me anyway. Do not speak to me. I might be here in your monstrous castle as a prisoner, but I will never belong here! My heart belongs with my husband, Kylian!"

I watch her walk away from me. My emotions run smoothly from pity to frustration to pure rage. I pull down the barriers holding Aries back and his own fury floods in, looking for where to channel it.

There is only one place in mind. Someone needs to be taught to keep their f*****g hands to themselves.