Feral (The Wrong Alpha 2)

“Of course,” the alphas chorused, their gazes on Liam.

Jules took Liam’s arm, dragged him away a little, and hissed, “If you sic your fans on me again, I swear your face won’t be so pretty anymore. You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Stop. Just stop. I get that you have a veritable legion of suitors, but I don’t need your leftovers. Get it?”

Liam sighed, as if Jules was the unreasonable one. “I didn’t sic them on you. I may have told them that I appreciate alphas that treat my family with kindness and respect. That’s all!”

Jules scoffed. “Right. That’s totally all.”

Sighing again, Liam took his arm and walked them to the corner of the ballroom, away from any potential eavesdroppers. “Look,” he said softly, his expression serious. “I really hate that you’re not having fun. I just wanted to help, Jules. I hate that you always look like you want to be anywhere but here. This is our debut season, not just mine. I hate that you hide in a corner of the ballroom and look miserable.”

Jules pursed his lips and dropped his gaze. “I’m having fun,” he mumbled. “I just don’t like dancing.” That was a lie. He did enjoy dancing—theoretically. He just didn’t like dancing with people who did it as a favor to his brother.

“Did you like Baron Evler?” Liam said.

Jules shrugged. “He’s all right, I guess.” Evler had been a little more tolerable than Liam’s other suitors. He had actually looked at Jules when they danced.

Liam beamed. “See? I think he’s perfect for you! Give him a chance maybe?”

Jules rolled his eyes. “Li, he danced with me to impress you, not because he’s interested in me. And I’m not looking for an alpha. I don’t want to marry.”

The smile faded from Liam’s face, his expression becoming probing. “Are you all right?” he said, dropping his voice even lower. “Does the bond still hurt?”

Cringing a little, Jules averted his gaze. “It’s fine,” he said shortly.

It was fine. Thanks to the increased dose of suppressants, he could now barely feel it. All he could feel was a faint hollow thing in his chest that he could ignore most of the time. There was another upside to the increased dosage of his suppressants: his sense of smell was gone now, so the various smells and pheromones in the ballroom didn’t affect him at all. As for the downside… he knew he didn’t smell like an omega anymore, which probably contributed to his lack of popularity, coupled with his plain looks.

“Are you sure—”

Liam’s words were interrupted by a murmur of excitement that suddenly rippled through the ballroom.

They both turned their heads toward the door.

Liam sucked a breath in. “That’s the Duke of Westcliff,” he whispered, squeezing Jules’s arm.

Jules could see that.

He’d always thought that pictures and videos of the duke had to have been somehow manipulated—because he had thought it wasn’t possible for an alpha to be so handsome. But he had to admit the duke looked even better in real life. The videos and pictures didn’t do justice to the sheer presence and self-assuredness Westcliff’s tall, powerful body emanated. He was mouthwateringly handsome: his strong face so perfectly symmetrical it might have been sculpted by an artist, his green eyes unnaturally bright, his full, firm lips sensual despite being curled into a sardonic smile, his jaw strong and angular. He looked effortlessly elegant in his dark suit, despite the five-o’clock shadow on his lean cheeks.

“Oh gosh, I think he’s heading over here, Jules,” Liam whispered, blushing a little.

He was right: although Westcliff stopped here and there to speak to people, he was clearly moving in their direction.

Jules snorted. “Of course he is. He would have had to be blind not to notice you.”

He let go of Liam’s arm and took a few steps back. He had no delusions about the duke’s destination.

He was right, of course.

By the time Westcliff finally reached Liam, his brother already had his crowd of admirers around him. But the crowd parted for the duke without him even saying anything. Jules was almost impressed.

Westcliff stopped in front of Liam and bowed slightly, more of a nod than a bow. He stretched out a hand. “A dance?”

Liam cocked his head slightly. “I don’t dance with unfamiliar alphas I’m afraid,” he said, his lips curling into a small smile. Liam looked ridiculously lovely when he did that, and he knew it.

Jules shook his head with a fond smile.

To his mild astonishment, Westcliff didn’t look instantly besotted. Raising a black eyebrow, he simply said, “Devlin Schaefer.” And then he took Liam’s hand and led him to the dance floor. Just like that.

Jules crossed his arms over his chest and tried to pretend he couldn’t hear Liam’s suitors gossiping about Westcliff’s interest. They seemed to have forgotten that he was even there.