Feral (The Wrong Alpha 2)

Jules was almost touched. Almost. He also felt more than a little hurt. It hurt that even Liam, who had always assured him that he wasn’t unattractive, thought that an alpha like Westcliff would never find him attractive.

“I understand,” Jules said evenly, fighting the tightness in his throat.

“Anyway!” Liam said in an awkward tone of voice, probably just now realizing how his words sounded. “Did Westcliff say anything? About me, I mean? Did he seem sorry?”

No, he was too busy fucking me, Jules nearly snapped, and scowled at the food on his plate. “No,” he said, getting to his feet. “I promised Eric to call him.” And he strode out of the dining room before Liam could say anything.

He spent the rest of the day hiding in his room and pretty much freaking out, as the consequences of their ill-advised sex had fully sunk in.

What had he done? How was he ever going to see Devlin as a brother-in-law? To smile when he saw him kiss and scent-mark Liam? To pretend he didn’t feel crushed when he saw them in the morning, with Liam looking satisfied and well fucked? How was he supposed to smile when he wanted to cry?

“You can and you will,” he said firmly, pressing his hands against his stinging eyes. What had happened was a mistake. Devlin was clearly regretting it already, wishing he’d never given in. Devlin really needed Liam, and he probably considered the sex with Jules a needless complication of the situation. A misstep. A shameful loss of control. In fact, Jules should probably expect a very awkward conversation with Devlin—with Westcliff—soon enough. He couldn’t avoid it forever. Jules could practically hear his words: “It’s not you,” “It was a mistake we should forget about,” “I respect you and value your friendship”—all the cliché stuff people said when they wanted to gently turn someone down and choose someone else.

It was fine.

It shouldn’t hurt as much if he expected it, right?

Chapter 20

Devlin had a busy day. He spent most of it working with the public relations team on his inauguration speech—because apparently he couldn’t just wing it. Every word had to be perfect and reach the right audience. These days, monarchies were an unpopular form of government, and to remain supported by their people, they had to work for it twice as hard as the republics did. Devlin understood that it was necessary, but all of the public relations work was very exhausting and frustrating, and by the end of the day, he felt like letting his claws out and growling, just to finally shut Cormack up.

It certainly didn’t help that he had been incredibly distracted all day long.

Sighing, Devlin leaned back in his chair and stared at the computer in front of him without seeing anything. In the background, Cormack was droning on about his approval ratings, as if Devlin couldn’t read the data in front of him.

He could read it—but he couldn’t focus on it. It was a recurrent problem that day, ever since…

Devlin tried to push the thought away, knowing that if he started thinking about it, he’d get nothing done.

It didn’t work.

Of course it didn’t work.

He kept thinking of the way Julian had felt around him, tight and slick, so slick it was like being wrapped in the finest silk… the way he gazed at Devlin with that glassy-eyed, drugged look, his lips bitten red and parted as he moaned—

“…as you can see, Your Grace, if you fail to secure the marriage to the Diamond of the Season soon, it will cause your approval ratings to drop. We can’t afford it when there is such a high chance for civil unrest—”

“Enough,” Devlin said.

Cormack pursed his lips. “But Your Grace—”

“I said enough,” he repeated, staring him down. “You’re dismissed.”

Cormack opened his mouth but closed it again under Devlin’s irritated gaze. Nodding, he finally left.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Devlin closed his eyes, his posture sagging now that he was alone. Everything Cormack had said was true. He couldn’t back out of his courtship of Liam; it would be beyond irresponsible. The fact that he was even thinking about it was irresponsible. He knew what he should do: he needed to pay a visit to the Blakes and clear things up with Julian. It was important that they were on the same page. He had to apologize. His lack of self-control was unacceptable. Julian was young and relatively inexperienced. He might not have been a virgin—Devlin gritted his teeth, fighting the inappropriate wave of ugly possessiveness—but he was young and vulnerable after his recent heat. He had to make sure Julian hadn’t been hurt by his careless actions. He had to apologize and clear the air so that their friendship wasn’t ruined by that mistake—because that was what it was.

He couldn’t afford for it to be anything else. He had responsibilities he couldn’t easily walk away from.