Unnatural (The Wrong Alpha 1)

The only saving grace was the fact that the prince was unexpectedly mild-tempered for an alpha. He hadn’t reacted to Royce’s instinctive posturing at all. He just smiled neutrally and seemed… nice. It threw Royce off balance. He had expected a typical arrogant alpha. Instead, he was the one who had ended up acting like the dreaded cliché.

“Admit it, he’s very attractive,” Belinda said, elbowing him.

Royce glanced at the prince. “He’s too tall.” And too alpha.

“His height is perfect, you ass. He’s your height!”

Royce grimaced. He didn’t bother telling his baby sister that he was attracted to petite omegas half his size. Although Belinda knew he was an alpha, Royce often thought that she forgot about his real designation or didn’t give it much thought. He was just an older brother for her, not a sexual being or his designation.

“Sometimes alphas fall for alphas,” Belinda murmured in a very quiet voice, proving that she did remember his designation after all. “Don’t be so closed-minded, brother. Maybe it’ll work out.”

Royce suppressed another grimace. It wasn’t a matter of him being closed-minded or old-fashioned. He wasn’t. He was the head of the Liberal party for a reason. Unfortunately, his tastes were very traditional: he simply didn’t find alphas attractive. All they managed to provoke in him was alertness or dislike—usually. His reaction to Haydn Schaefer was more extreme, for some bizarre reason.

“He has a gorgeous smile,” Belinda said.

“Then maybe you should marry him,” Royce said dryly.

Belinda laughed. Kissing him on the cheek, she walked away, toward their mother, who was speaking with the marriage officiant. Or rather, a marriage officiant, because there were two of them—a Kadarian and a Pelugian—so that the marriage would be recognized by both countries’ laws.

Royce looked away. It was hard to believe that in less than an hour, he would be a married man. It all seemed to be happening too quickly. On the other hand, there was no point in delaying the inevitable. Lord Ksar’ngh’chaali was clearly impatient to get it over with and leave their planet. Royce had heard that he was a recently married man himself. He was probably eager to return home to his spouse. Unlike him, Lord Ksar’ngh’chaali likely looked forward to getting into his spouse’s bed.

Royce glanced at his future husband and tried to convince himself that he was attractive. He couldn’t. Prince Haydn was too tall, too muscular, and too alpha for his tastes. Though, to be fair, he did have a nice mouth. A very pretty mouth. It was full and very pink. His blue eyes were rather nice, too: an unusual color that was so bright and warm it would never be mistaken for gray. His hands were good, with long, aristocratic fingers that seemed too elegant to hold a weapon. Which only proved how deceptive appearances could be. That man was a killer.

Averting his gaze, Royce told himself to be rational. They had been at war. It wasn’t Prince Haydn’s fault that he had killed enemy soldiers during the war. Royce had to stop allowing his alpha instincts to affect his judgment. He had to at least try. He was a rational man. He was more than his designation. He didn’t have to be attracted to his husband; tolerating him would be enough. It would be a marriage on paper only. He could suppress his instincts. He could do it. He could do it for his country. For his family. It had been nearly eight years since he’d last seen his younger brother. If the war truly ended, Aksel would finally come home. That was as good an incentive as any.

He had to try to get along with Haydn Schaefer instead of imagining pushing him to his knees and making him submit. The irritating part was, Royce wasn’t even sure what that submission would entail. His body just felt on edge, his alpha instincts making it hard to think rationally.

Get a grip. This isn’t you, dammit.

Chapter Three

The wedding was a small affair, with only their closest family members present. There were more members of the press than there were guests. There were certainly more political speeches than congratulations to the newlyweds.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, it was over. The press left, Lord Ksar’ngh’chaali offered dry congratulations and departed, too, after warning them that he would come back in a few months’ time for the election of their new Lord Chancellor—or at least that was what he’d said. Cynically, Haydn thought he would come because he didn’t trust them to maintain the peace.

Either way, there were only the two families left, and Prime Minister Taube.

The latter was speaking to Cleghorn. His husband.

Haydn still couldn’t entirely believe it. He had a husband. A husband he’d met a few hours ago. It seemed surreal.

“Haydn.”

He turned at the sound of his father’s voice. “Your Majesty?”