Rejecting Alpha Dreads

Chapter 1 As always, feminine voices floated from my husband’s room. It was like an orgy in there. My mate, Alpha Dreads, changed them like clothes, bedding them indiscriminately without regard for me. Every Saturday, he brought in a batch of new hoes. I couldn’t leave the pack house, not at that moment at least. My fault was coming from the pack that killed his mum. Our union was prearranged to keep the peace. So I was an enemy he had to be mated to. The mating ceremony was full of drawn-out contracts like a proper marriage with conditions. The alpha and his mate shall remain one and bear pups that will be symbols of unity between both rival packs. Right now, it appeared Dreads was determined to bear illegitimate pups with other women. They would stroll unashamedly around the pack house in their bikinis, polluting the air with their high-pitched voices like hyenas. Most nights, I covered my ears with my pillow in my room, folding the pillow around my head as hard as I could but their voices danced freely in my skull. I’d later realize that even after I stopped physically hearing them, my mind was replaying the torturous audio like some faulty CD player. I was losing myself. Not that any of the girls was prettier than me, objectively speaking. I maintained an hourglass figure and made sure my brown hair was always cascading nicely down my shoulders just to get the alpha’s attention. But guess what? He picked girls who looked just like me and had their hair almost exactly like mine, perhaps trying to emphasize how I was totally replaceable and nothing special. “I am not my pack, Dreads,” I have said times without number. “I didn’t kill your mum.” I couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone a fellow werewolf. The war wouldn’t have happened, left to me. Why does he hate me for what I didn’t do? I lost an uncle to the war too. In truth, uncles aren’t as closely related to people as their mums, but the fact remains that both rival packs lost things. My explanations got Dreads to dislike me more, so I learned to shut up. He and his girls would often use the indoor swimming pool in the basement, playing their songs too loudly. It hurt me more when I considered the hoes knew who I was. I was their Luna. Yet I assume this knowledge was a source of pleasure on its own. Everybody knows that stolen fruits taste better than earned ones, especially when the fruits belong to someone better than you. I made a new friend Felicia after arriving here freshly from my pack. She was nice and professional, a maid who took her job seriously, serving me coffee in the morning, changing my bedspreads and generally making sure I was okay. Felicia repeatedly assured me that my new mate, Alpha Dreads, would grow into me. He was my chosen mate. It occasionally happened between chosen mates that they might dislike each other at first, but grow into each other with time. So I should give mine more time and let the moon goddess do her thing. “Thanks, Felicia,” I had said. “I thank the universe for having you.” With time, sadly, Felicia’s maid clothing grew skimpier. More of her legs started showing and her gowns became slim-fitted enough to accentuate her onion-shaped butt. I thought I’d found a reason to be happy in a strange place but Dreads had somehow created a hoe out of Felicia too. He would bang her loudly during weekdays. She would enjoy it without regards for me her boss, at least up until she was leaving his room (because I’d usually wait outside my door along the corridor separating my room from Dreads’ just to be sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. Felicia had joined them too. My own Felicia). She would see me and her face would instantly fall as she apologized with her brown, ethical Asian eyes. But it didn’t stop her from going to get some more the following day. My ex-maid would balance the coffee on her tray on her arm like an expert, knocked on his room especially when he was back from work later in the day and spent the next hour or two in there. They cosplayed the whole thing, or so my mind creatively assumed: Maid With The Big Buttocks Screws Her Boss’ Husband. In no time, she joined the horde of the weekend partiers and started wearing bikinis and G-strings. My inner wolf Betty yelled and raged within every time Dreads had an affair with someone else on what should be our matrimonial bed. I would imagine him without clothes, no matter how hard I tried not to. Books weren’t distracting enough. Movies on the TV weren’t cutting it. I saw him every time in my mind’s eye. His muscles and firm hands and long member, going skin to skin with wolves that were often gammas and way beneath me. “Please, reject me,” I said with tears in my eyes one evening. He was sitting behind a large mahogany desk in his study. The walls were shelves with lot of books. Dreads was a lettered man to the core, objectively an incredibly handsome alpha werewolf. He was a smooth talker who was good with audiences. Maybe things would’ve been different if the issue of his mum weren’t in the picture. Perhaps he would’ve been the most loving person to me. But sometimes, I considered this might be my weakness speaking as usual. I found the good in people even if they were monsters. “Reject me,” I said as tears formed a persistent film over my eyes. They fell freely down my face, collected beneath my jaw and dropped to my breasts. Dreads said nothing. The room was deafeningly silent. He didn’t look up at me. Didn’t bulge. The only thing that changed was the crease on his forehead. He seemed to be getting angrier yet it was what I wanted. I needed to get that sentence out of him. You are rejected, Priscilla. I hate you, Priscilla. The lamp on his table cast a circular light of yellow over his books. He was wearing a suit and tie, perhaps preparing his speech or agenda for some meetings he would have with whomever. With Dreads, it was always meetings and functions, and ceremonies and more meetings and functions. I couldn’t tell if it was his way of mentally escaping the pack house because it seemed my presence was such a great source of grief. Too many assumptions from me, but that was because he wouldn’t even speak to me. Which was why it made more sense that he rejected me. Why do this to both of us? Yes, our union was agreed upon by his pack and mine to keep the peace, but why would the world be at peace while your home be at war ? In anger, I picked up a random, old book from one of the shelves to my right and slammed it on the floor, “Reject me!” I bellowed from deep within my lungs. My voice filled the room and made him rise. Mission accomplished, I thought. A reaction from him, finally. My mate approached me in a flash, halted right in front of me and gifted me the hardest smack on my face that I had ever gotten from anyone else.