Her exiled Gamma

Taking her places

*Castor*

Standing at the bottom of the steps, I lean against the stone base that supports the statue of a wolf with its head thrown back, its mouth opened slightly as though howling at the moon or some transgression or unfairness. I had certainly felt like howling earlier in the park when Kiona had been her usual quarrelsome self. If the Alpha wants a quiet wife, he certainly doesn’t want one who responds with such tartness and self-assurance, as though her opinion carries as much weight as his. Even if it does, even if she had made some very valid points.

Even if I had wanted to applaud her, and had taken a bit of pride in her not cowering before a man of such rank and prestige.

But she is going to ruin her chances of landing the Alpha if she isn’t careful. I want her to win this blasted contest. I want her to come with me tonight, even though I know she probably won’t join me. She hadn't said with words she would, hadn't given the impression with actions she would, so I am probably out here, headed for disappointment.

I should be on my way. Change the plans I had arranged earlier because I had thought she might join me. She is no doubt at this very moment tucked up tightly in bed, dreaming of the Alpha slipping a hand beneath the hem of her nightdress and taking his fingers on a journey

over the silken skin of her thigh.

That she had met the Alpha before, that Brinsley had seemingly failed to recognize her or remember he had encountered her previously, is beyond reasoning. How could any man, once he had been introduced to her ... nay, an introduction wasn't necessary: to catch sight of her would be enough ... forget she exists in his world ? But to have held her in his arms, to have circled her over the dance floor ? It is beyond the pale to even consider that he had not remembered her. The unusual coppery tint of her hair, the fire in her eyes, her sharp tongue. To have her attention for the length of a dance, to have basked in her presence, and then not to store the memory away ... when I have so many memories of her that I will never forget.

None of them are truly mine, certainly not granted to me on purpose. The sight of her skipping through a flower-filled field with Isadora. Sitting on a blanket enjoying a picnic with my sister, laughing so loudly that the birds in the boughs above had taken flight. Ascending or descending stairs at a ball. Waltzing with one Alpha after another.

Furrowing her brow at me. Glaring at me. Fighting not to laugh at something I said. Those are my favorite, when I had almost broken through the cool facade that characterizes so many of our encounters.

I have never even thought about those memories before I had heard her say she is setting her cap for an Alpha. Now it seems the remembrances are inside a zoetrope, going around and around in my mind, in a blur of actions, and I can’t seem to make them stop.

What am I doing waiting here ? I know everyone is i. bed. I had stayed in the library reading Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea until they were. That she isn’t already out here is an indication that she isn’t going to come. Why should she ? I have told her what to write in her letter to the Alpha. She had become reacquainted with Brinsley this afternoon. No way in hell will he forget her this time. She has a decisive edge over the other ladies that will see her in good stead.

The rambling I had done in the garden this afternoon is an embarrassment. I have never given any thought to what I want in a wife, never intend to marry, so why have I given the impression that I have, that I will ? Why all of a sudden am I finding her company so damned enjoyable ?

Obviously, she doesn’t feel the same. I need to stop mooning about. Altering my plans is easy enough. I could head to the gaming hell. The car is there in the drive waiting for me to climb inside.

Yet, here I stand, unable to give up that last glimmer of hope, the frayed remnant of

anticipation that tonight we might put aside whatever ill-conceived animosity has always been between us and instead enjoy each other's company. What was I thinking..

All my thoughts stutter to a stop as I hear a door open and close. Moving away from

the stone support, I glance up the stairs to see her darting down them. She is wearing a cloak against the cool of the night, and beneath it, I catch a glimpse of the emerald dress she had worn to dinner.

“I apologize for my tardiness”. She says in a rush, her breath coming in rapid gusts as though she has fairly flown from her bedchamber. “Isadora came to my chamber to talk once more about our encounter with Brinsley at the park. Thank you for waiting".

She has come. I hadn't known for sure that she would, but now to see her gratitude because I had waited, I don’t know why I had ever doubted. “We're not on a schedule”.

“Still, it occurred to me that I never actually responded to your invitation, didn't reassure you that I was indeed interested in learning about whatever it was you so mysteriously alluded to in the garden. Are you going to tell me ?”'

“I'm going to do better than that. I'm going to show you”.

*Kiona*

I have never done anything as bold … or scandalous .. .as climb into a car with a

gentleman during the late hours of the evening, with no chaperone and no one knowing. But Castor is my dearest friend's brother. He would never do anything untoward. He is safe.

Or so I had once thought. But at present my mind is a mix of strange thoughts, my body a hodgepodge of strange sensations as the car moves through the faintly lit streets. Although he sits at respectful distance, I am acutely aware of his presence looming. Not at all in a frightening sort of way, but more in a not-to-be-ignored sort of way. When had he become so ... substantial ? He smells of bay rum and spice, of mystery and decadence. This boy who has grown into a man whom I have never truly noticed suddenly occupies a good portion of my musings, unwilling to be disregarded.

A change in the tenor of our relationship has happened as well, and I am not quite certain what to make of it, how to adjust to it. As the glow from passing streetlamps washes quickly over his face, I find myself waiting in anticipation of seeing him more clearly for the span of a few seconds. I am nearly envious of the light that can touch him so freely and not be reprimanded for it. A she-wolf can’t caress with such abandon. On the rare occasions that a touch is permitted, such as during a dance, gloves have to be worn.

If I do find myself to be the Alpha’s choice, if he does propose marriage, it is unlikely I will graze my skin over his in any manner before we are married, before he visits my bedchamber on our wedding night. What if his touch makes me recoil ?

“You're looking quite serious over there”. Castor remarks, his voice a rasp in the darkness that makes it seem so much more intimate.

Perhaps it is because of the shadows, or the late hour, or the fact we are alone, but I find myself confessing. “I was thinking of courting rituals. How staid they are. How they don't lend themselves well to people getting to know each other".

I see the flash of his grin. I had never noticed that he has a remarkable smile. It makes me feel included, treasured, special.

“Why, miss Kiona, if I didn't know better, I'd think you could read my mind”. He chuckles.

“Were you thinking the same ?” I ask.

He smiles again. "I have thought the same for years now. It's part of the impetus for what I'm going to show you”.

“Does Isadora know about it ?”

"Absolutely not. I have told no one”. He gazes out the window. “I don't know why I decided to share it with you. Especially as I was sober at the time".

His disgruntlement makes me want to laugh. Getting the better of him always makes me light and giddy. In truth, I have never minded his teasing. I have to stay on my toes with him.

Would conversation with the Alpha be as invigorating ?

“Is some woman not waiting for you somewhere tonight ?” I ask.

His gaze lands back on me, exactly where I want it. What is wrong with me, to

desire his attention ?

“Here I was under the distinct impression you were of the feminine persuasion”. He teases.

I huff. "I'm not waiting on you”.

“Trying to determine if I have a paramour ?"

Am I ? Yes, I rather believe I am. “I would not want to be responsible for her being cross with you”.

“You think I would tell her about you ?” He asks.

"Only if you took after your father and didn't keep your trysts secret".

“First, I am nothing at all like my father”. The harshly ground out words implies he speaks through clenched teeth. “Second, I believe we would be hard-pressed to call this a tryst, as we are hardly lovers, nor do my plans for this outing involve anything remotely romantic. Third, I wouldn't be here with you if I had a paramour. I would be with her. Why are you smiling ?”

"It's reassuring to know you wouldn't be unfaithful to a lover”. And that he doesn’t have one.

"Are you looking to be cast into the role of my lover ?” The teasing tone is back.

“No ! The audacity to ask such a thing. I'm well-bred and well mannered ...”.

“There's nothing remotely well mannered about you. You're bold as brass, and you speak your mind. That Brinsley wants a woman who doesn't is beyond my comprehension”.

I shake my head. "I don't want to talk about him”.

“Do you not like him ?” He asks.

"I don't know how I feel about him ... which is what led to my earlier musings. I don't want the sort of marriage that my parents had. My father chose my mother for monetary gain ..".

“Brinsley has no need of money". He says in a tone saying the he himself does.

"..political gain..".

“He has no need for political alliances”.

I nod. “True. Which leaves him in want of a broodmare".

“Every man with a title is”. He points out.

“That doesn't make it acceptable to a woman's heart. My parents traveled to Italy in an attempt to strengthen their relationship and possibly fall in love. I don't want to live thirty years in a loveless marriage. I want to be like Isadora and have love right out of the starting gate”.

"You think Chad loves her ?" He asks.

"Well, of course he does. He adores her”. Although doubts suddenly plague me. I lean forward. “Don't you think ?"

He shrugs. “Matters of the heart are not my strong suit”.

“Have you never been in love, then ?” I ask.

“I was in love with a puppy once”. He mumbles.

I furrow my brow. “I don't recall ever seeing a dog at any of your residences when I visited Isadora”.

“I wasn't allowed to keep him”.

My stomach knots as I discover one more thing he was denied. He is the son of an Alpha. He should never have gone without anything he wanted. My parents have always spoiled me, perhaps because the three sons to whom my mother had given birth had all died shortly after drawing their first breath. “No woman, though ?”

“Never. Was there some swain in your youth who stole your heart and then tossed you over for a she-wolf with a larger dowry ?"

“If a cad had tossed me over, all of the city would have known about it because I would have shoved the scoundrel into the river".

Another grin from him. I am becoming addicted to creating them. “You see ? You're no whimpering miss. Brazen and bold. Brinsley would be lucky to have you”.

I offer him a smile in exchange. “You are the last person I would have expected to be my champion”.

"It does seem odd”. He glances out the window. “We're almost there”.

There is a large brick building that takes up a good portion of the block. That no light shines from within and it appears forbidden is a bit ominous, and my heart pounds a little bit harder, but I trust Castor not to place me in harm's way.