Taking the Alpha King

Chapter 2: Better Late Than Never

When you wake up groggy, with a pounding headache and a dry mouth, you've probably drank too much.

Maverick and I finished off the six-pack we found and I'm a terrible lightweight, so it probably wasn't my smartest move. But I'm pretty sure we had a good time, and when Maverick walked me home, I'm fairly positive his hands lingered a little longer than necessary as he helped me inside my house.

Of course, that could just have been the alcohol, but a guy can hope, right?

I try to sit up in bed but lay back down as my stomach rolls. Everything is a little too bright and moving a little too fast, but as my hands find my phone, I realize I'm a little too late.

“Shit."

It's half-past ten and the crowning ceremony starts in 15 minutes. I rush into my bathroom and guzzle a handful of water, trying to push the nausea down. I quickly brush my teeth and splash cold water on my face. Not too cold to tint my skin, but cold enough the shock wakes me up.

I look into the mirror; my eyes are red and there is a crusty trail of drool from my mouth to my chin I quickly scrub away. My hair is going to have to be the sacrifice of the day, as I just run my hands through it and rush back into my room to pull out a pair of khakis and throw on the same hoodie from last night. It doesn't smell, so it's probably clean.

I take the stairs two at a time as I rush downstairs to the kitchen. Mom and Dad are nowhere to be seen and I can't help thinking how shitty it was of them to not wake me up! Whatever, I can gripe about it later. I'm out the back door as soon as my shoes are on and head straight to the town square, to the pack's auditorium where the ceremony is being held.

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I try not to think about the minutes it took to get here and simply be glad that I made it in time to see Alpha King Horace crown Maverick.

Maverick looks regal, as if made for this moment. And, I guess, in a way, he was.

I push through the crowd, wanting to get as close as possible to the stage. The crowd is cheering all around me for Maverick, once he shakes his father's hand and turns toward his pack. The closest I can get is somewhere in the middle of the crowd, but I've got a good vantage point, being roughly a head taller than the shifters around me.

Maverick hushes the crowd, his crown sparkling off the lights in the room. There are a few spotlights on him and he looks over his pack proudly.

“Thank you, everyone, for your support and your kindness. It is my honor to serve you…"

Maverick walks the stage as he makes his speech, but as my eyes follow him, they catch Kline backstage. He would otherwise be hidden if I didn't have a direct view behind the curtain, but his blue blazer and long blonde hair stand out around everything else around him. He looks as bad as I feel and I know he drank way more than I did last night.

'And got more attention from the ladies, too,' my traitorous mind supplies.

Like I wanted their attention, anyway.

I'm sure I'd have everyone's attention if I were a sleazeball like Kline.

The crowd cheers again, and I suppose that Maverick's speech is over. Now is the moment when Maverick will announce the new Beta.

It's tradition that when the Alpha King retires, so does his Beta. Kline's father, Yoseph Thomas, was an excellent Beta to Maverick's dad, Horace. In fact, people say they are two peas in a pod. It's odd to me that Maverick and Kline aren't closer. Sure, they also grew up together, but not like Maverick and I had.

We had a friendship; a solid one.

Kline's relationship with Maverick seems strictly professional. But what do I know? Just Maverick's childhood fear of snakes and his weird habit of having chapstick within reach of any given moment.

Kline only knows the kingly version, and he's been king all of 5 minutes.

“Now, it's time to name the Beta of the Ganymede Pack. This person has been with me through thick and thin, and I trust he will always have the best interest of the pack."

I see a change in Kline. Where he was slouching, he is now straight-backed. He flattens what I'm sure is a nonexistent wrinkle in his blazer and his mother, Winnie, fiddles with his hair. He brushes her off after a moment, and I turn back to Maverick.

'Kline doesn't deserve it,' I think with the right amount of bitterness for the situation.

“Please join me in celebrating your new Beta, Cayden Hawks."