FATED TO THE ALPHA I MUST DESTROY

CHAPTER 3: CANCEL IT

CHAPTER 3

CANCEL IT.

"What is Anya doing here?" Pierre whispered.

"She dances gracefully." His father was lost in the rhythm of the song.

Anya twirled twice, her dress dancing around her.

She opened her eyes to do the final dance when she caught a glimpse of the new guy. He was sitting beside Alpha Woodrow.

Trying not to distract herself, she shut her eyes and continued the dance. However, her heart was beating against her ribcage and she instantly felt sick. What went through her mind were questions.

Who was the new guy and what was he doing with the Alpha? Then it hit her. The Alpha had requested a special performance for his son returning home from abroad.

'Don't tell me the new guy is the Alpha's son?!' She screamed internally.

The music stopped playing and so did she. She curtsied with her head bowed, refusing to lift her head. She knew she was so screwed. It would hurt more if the new guy told on her.

"Bravo." Alpha Woodrow whistled.

Anya lifted her head and smiled. Alpha Woodrow's Beta approached her with a bouquet of her favorite flowers.

"Thank you." Anya bowed her head and lifted it again.

"That was a wonderful performance." The Alpha was coming himself. Anya was shaking within herself. She was trying to restrain herself from passing out. She had used much magic on hypnosis and it was taking a toll on her.

"I'm hosting a banquet tonight, Sapphire. I want you to come." Alpha Woodrow took her hand and bent down to kiss it.

Sitting on his chair, Pierre balled his right hand into a fist. "That little girl's seducing father."

"Come on, Pierre. Come greet Sapphire," His father called for him.

Pierre shook his hand and waved at them.

"He's shy. That's my son." His father smiled.

Anya looked up at him and waved. "Welcome back home, Sir Pierre."

"Acting nice, are we now, Anya? That's not the girl that threatened my life a few minutes ago." He spoke in her head.

Anya stared in bewilderment at him. How did he do that? She wondered.

Madam Belle walked in from behind the red curtain. "Monsieur Wood-arrow."

Anya almost rolled her eyes at her boss.

The woman chuckled at a compliment given to her by Alpha Woodrow. The French Burr was hurting her English.

"Anya is one of our very best." Madam Belle hugged Anya closer to herself.

"I think my Sapphire is the very best." Alpha Woodrow winked at Anya and she chuckled nervously.

"We have another show at noon, sir." Madam Belle had to cut their meeting short.

"I understand. Thank you for the dance, Sapphire," Woodrow took her hand and gave it another kiss.

Pierre narrowed his eyes and spoke inside her head again. "Why's my dad calling you Sapphire? I thought your name was Anya or is that a lie?"

"My name is Anya. Sapphire is my stage name. Happy?" Anya replied with a mind-link of hers.

"You're lucky. I was about to tell my father how you lied about your name. The banquet tonight will be a memorable one. Wear red for me." Pierre teased her.

Anya almost scoffed. "Who do you think you are?"

Lorrain noticed Anya kept looking at the pew. He whipped around to catch Pierre grinning to himself.

Squinting his eyes, he told Anya. "You seem occupied."

Anya chuckled nervously. "I'm very busy over here."

Lorrain smirked to himself and turned to where Pierre sat. "Very busy indeed."

Madam Belle cleared her throat. "It was indeed an honor to have you here, sir."

"Pleasure is all mine." Woodrow smiled and turned to leave, Lorrain following.

Anya put the bouquet close to her nose to sniff them. It was lovely. He felt eyes on her and glared at Pierre.

He whispered in her head again. "Wear red for me or I'll tell my father what you really are."

*****

Anya stood under the running shower. That Pierre was getting on her nerves.

She heard the door slam open. Madam Belle walked in with two other ladies.

"Oh, come on." Anya heaved a sigh.

The next minute she was kneeling before her seniors and Madam Belle.

"May I ask why I'm here?" Anya looked up at one of her seniors, Charlotte.

"Madam, she even has the guts to talk rudely to you." Charlotte clasped her mother's arm.

Charlotte is the oldest daughter of Madam Belle and the "best" dancer the opera has.

"Shut up." Madam Belle pushed her daughter's hands off hers and grabbed Anya's chin.

Anya swallowed her nonexistent saliva awaiting the usual slap on the face or a hit in the stomach but none came. Madam Belle called them "punishments" for falling behind time for dance practice or performance.

"I should've scolded you today but upon hearing that Alpha Woodrow invited you himself to the banquet, who am I to hurt you?" Madam Belle clenched Anya's chin so hard that it drew blood.

"Thank you." Anya said.

Madam Belle let go of her. "Come on, girls. We have another show coming up."

Anya sat on the floor, wiping her chin and clicking her tongue in annoyance. When she tried to stand on her feet, dots clouded her vision. Then she remembered not recovering from using much magic. Closing her eyes, she felt warm arms around her waist. She almost threw her eyes open when a hand blocked her vision.

"You better let go of me or you'll regret it," said Anya, already fisting her hands.

"Seriously, easy on the threats here. It's Me, Randy.”

He let go of Anya and she elbowed him in the gut. “Don't ever scare me like that again.”

"Ouch," he cupped his left cheek.

"Did you follow me here?" Anya took to her feet.

"No. I just got here. Mom wanted to see me about something." Randy replied.

"Well, if you're looking for her, she just left with your sister." Anya took the glasses from her pocket and put them on.

"Charlotte is here?" Randy had a puzzled look on his face.

"Yeah. Go figure." Anya said dryly and turned to leave.

"Wait." Randy called after her.

She whipped around to face him.

"I'm sorry about my mom." His eyes glistened with tears.

Anya bit her lower lip. How could a 30 year old man cry like it was no big deal? For her, crying was a difficult thing to do except the day she lost her parents to a werewolf attack 19 years ago.

"It's fine." Anya smiled at him before leaving.