Feral (The Wrong Alpha 2)

“I’m not sure if I’m relieved or wounded,” Westcliff said. “Having you live under my roof will certainly be not boring.”

Jules missed a step. “What?”

Westcliff smoothly corrected for him, making his misstep seem like a planned dance move. “Your brother told me that if we are to marry, his younger brothers will move into my house, too.”

Jules missed another step. “You’re talking about marriage? You met him two days ago!”

“And?”

“You don’t know each other!”

Westcliff spun him around. “We’re hardly planning to marry now. But it makes sense to talk about conditions and consequences of our hypothetical marriage before it actually occurs.”

“You can’t just—treat it like that. It’s not a business transaction!”

“Isn’t it?” Westcliff said with a small, absolutely maddening smile. “You seem to be the only one not understanding it.”

Jules glared at him. “My brother deserves better than—that.”

“You were going to say ‘better than you.’ Do speak your mind, Julian.”

Ugh, Jules wanted to wipe that infuriating, superior little smile off Westcliff’s face.

He stomped on his foot again.

The asshole didn’t even wince.

“Are your feet made of durasteel? And don’t call me Julian.”

“No, you’re just a tiny thing, and your small feet would hardly hurt a X—a grown man.”

“You wanted to say a Xeus,” Jules said, giving him a curious look.

Something flickered in Westcliff’s eyes. “That too,” he said evenly, his face becoming unreadable again.

“You don’t seem like a Xeus,” Jules said.

Westcliff was the one to miss a step this time. “Pardon?” His voice could have turned water into ice.

“You don’t seem like a Xeus,” Jules repeated, wondering if he’d hit a nerve. “You don’t act like a Xeus. You’re so civilized and pragmatic. Xeus alphas are supposed to be all instinct.”

Westcliff chuckled, but his eyes remained cold and intent. “You shouldn’t believe the stereotypes. How many Xeus alphas have you met in your life?”

Jules swallowed.

“Enough to know that you’re very unlike them,” he said, his voice tighter than he would have liked. “People say mating compatibility is incredibly important for Xeus alphas. They supposedly mate for life.”

Something shifted in Westcliff’s expression. “Where are you going with this?” he said, holding Jules’s gaze with such intensity Jules’s skin covered in goosebumps.

He wet his lips with his tongue. “I’m just amazed that you can quash your instincts and make such a pragmatic, calculating decision to marry an omega for the sake of good publicity. It seems very un-Xeus-like. Have you surgically removed your mating gland?”

“We are not animals,” Westcliff said. “You’d be better served not to believe everything people say. I can control my baser instincts and think with my head, and most Xeus alphas are capable of doing it, too—outside of circumstances beyond our control.”

“Like rut?” Jules said.

Westcliff stared at him.

Jules smiled. “What? Why should we dance around the subject? Just because I’m an omega?”

“I see you’re going to be a handful after I marry your brother,” Westcliff murmured, his lips twitching.

“You will not be marrying my brother,” Jules said, lifting his chin. “So you don’t have to worry about me being a ‘handful,’ Your Grace.”

“We shall see.”

Someone coughed awkwardly, and Jules flinched and tore his eyes from Westcliff’s.

People were staring at them.

It took Jules a moment to realize why: the music had stopped. They were the only people on the dance floor, Westcliff’s large hand still on his lower back. When had the music stopped?

Embarrassed and bewildered, Jules stepped back and put on a smile. “Your Grace.” Whirling around, he strode away, his thoughts in disarray.

Before he could regain his equilibrium, Westcliff caught up with him. Touching him on the elbow, he slowed him down. “Stop running, Julian,” he said. “Or people will talk.”

Jules scoffed without looking at him. “That’s all you care about? And I’m not running. Kindly piss off.”

“Let me accompany you to your brother.”

Right. His brother.

“If you must,” Jules said. “Though I’m sure I’ll be able to find my way without your ducal assistance.”

He heard Westcliff exhale. “You’re impossible. Must you always argue with me?”

Jules turned his head and smiled at him. “Are you feeling exasperated, Your Grace?”

The look Westcliff shot him was rather pinched. “You are exasperating.”

His smile widening, Jules batted his eyelashes and said sweetly, “Why, that’s the best compliment you could have paid me. Much better than ‘kind of pretty.’”

A muscle jumped in Westcliff’s cheek. “I can’t believe you and Liam are brothers. He isn’t a tenth as exasperating as you are, you little menace.”

Jules chuckled. “Now imagine marrying Liam and having to put up with me always being around. The horror! So you should totally find another puppet for your PR campaign.”

“You’re nowhere near as amusing as you think you are.”

“I’m actually being dead serious—”

“Julian.”

Both of them snapped their gazes toward the voice.

It belonged to Jules’s uncle, who was watching them strangely.

Liam stood nearby, too, surrounded by his usual crowd of admirers. Although he was in the middle of a conversation, he was glancing their way curiously.