Page 1 of The Brooding Alpha's Mate
Chapter One
Colson
Even on the days I did everything right, I was wrong.
In the wrong place. A sore thumb on a healthy hand. A wolf right in the middle of a lion pride.
I swayed on my feet while folding clothes. I lived on too little food and even less sleep. When I could, I snuck pieces of food here or there. A roll leftover from the table. A sliver of fat from a steak. Whatever I could get.
“Did you make another one of those pies, slave?” Slave was my name according to them. Sometimes wolf. Most of the time the former.
The gruff lion’s voice broke me out of yet another dissociative fantasy. One where my stepbrother hadn’t sold me as a slave to a lion pride. One where my father’s wishes were fulfilled after he died. Leaving me a share of the inheritance to buy myself a farm and lead a quiet life.
One where I’d found an alpha who didn’t treat me anything like the lion now stomping behind me.
“I did. Let me make you a plate.”
The lion scoffed, throwing a bit of spittle onto my thin shirt. “I’m going to eat the whole thing. Why would I need a plate?”
I nodded, knowing any words would only ignite some confrontation in which I would never be right no matter how much I was.
They were right. I was wrong.
Their wishes were my commands.
How did my life turn into this?
“Tonight is poker night. Are all the snacks ready? All the boys are coming over.”
“Yes. Everything is ready.”
Dean, the head beta of this wayward pride, passed by me, a fork and the pie balanced on one hand. His eyes roamed my form. I didn’t know why. They called me a filthy wolf any chance they got and the truth was, I was more skeleton than omega physically now. “Better be.” Before I could sidestep him, he reached around with his free hand and slapped my ass—hard. “If only you weren’t a wolf, omega. The things I would do to you.”
To me.
Not with me.
To me.
And they said wolves were feral beasts.
I felt sorry for the omegas of this pride. They were treated almost as badly as me. A commodity. Property sold and bought based on their physical appearance or in my case, part of some bargaining chip.
I didn’t know why my brother had sold me. I had a feeling it had something to do with a gambling debt since my brother was an obsessive poker player but even so, wasn’t any good at it. He routinely lost and even when my father was alive, James was constantly begging our dad for loans. Loans that would never be paid back. We all knew he wouldn’t pay back his debt and would probably need even more money the next time around.
Why my dad made James the executor of his will knowing he was reckless and irresponsible with money made no sense other than James was the elder brother and the alpha of the both of us.
Alpha sons always had the spotlight.
If I ever got out of here, I would never do that to my children. They would all be loved as equally as possible. Differently, but not one less than another.
I’d been the good, responsible son. James was the wild, golden child.
All that rule following and being well-behaved hadn’t worked out so well for me.
The rest of the afternoon, I folded their clothes. They put on a front, this pride. They were ruthless in what I could tell from their dealings, but they didn’t handle money well. I bet none of the players who would come here tonight would know that underneath their seven-hundred-dollar suits were boxers bought in a multipack from the general store that had holes and stains in them no matter how much stain remover I used. The pretzels were from the dollar store. The beer bought in a keg from one of the big warehouse stores and sold as premium.
The lions had scandalous dealings but the worst of the worst sense for handling their finances. No wonder James was drawn here. Birds of a feather.
