The Alpha King's Claim

Serena

I’m sitting here, stiff as a board, watching the party unfold below me. Everyone’s laughing, having a great time. I wish I could join them.

This is exactly how I pictured my wedding reception. The only problem? I married the wrong guy.

The wrong guy in question is sitting next to me on his throne, looking every bit the part of a king.

The throne is a massive animal head—probably a wolf—with its mouth wide open, filled with sharp teeth, and accommodating my husband’s royal ass.

Ever since the ceremony ended, he’s been wearing an expression I can’t read. It’s not a scowl or a frown, just a blank face.

He smiles when he needs to, but I know he’s faking it. Just like me.

I remember everything about the ceremony. The chains of light, the strange marks they left on our wrists.

Suddenly, I’m filled with anxiety, feeling lost and confused.

Then, a sense of completeness washes over me, and for a moment, standing with the king—my king—feels right.

But that feeling is fleeting. Fear takes over again, and my hands start to shake. I don’t know what these marks on our wrists mean.

I’m hoping it’s nothing serious.

King Aero notices my discomfort. As I expected, he plays the part of the caring fiancé, assuring me everything’s okay. He probably thinks I’ll back out of our agreement.

Yeah, right. I just need to get through this day, and then I’ll be out of here forever. I don’t care what the mark means.

But ‘getting through this day’ means I have to kiss him.

I know I can’t avoid it with all these eyes on us, so I do the only thing I can: I swear.

“Shit.”

The moment his lips touch mine, I want to gag. It’s the coldest kiss I’ve ever experienced.

I’ve been kissed before, by my high school and college boyfriends, and by a coworker. They might not have looked as good as this man, but they were better kissers.

Despite my best efforts, I find myself parting my lips, fighting the urge to explore his mouth with my tongue. I manage to control it, but it’s hard.

I think I’m safe, but I’m wrong.

To my surprise, he responds, deepening our kiss, exploring my mouth with his tongue. His touch becomes more intense, more passionate.

My heart is racing, my body is flooded with adrenaline. I can’t think straight.

I hear the cheers and applause of the crowd, the blaring trumpets. But none of it matters.

All I care about is how his mouth is consuming me, and I let him. I actually let him.

I even respond to his kisses with a hunger of my own.

Before I know it, we’re lost in the passion of a newlywed couple, and I have to admit, King Aero is an amazing kisser. He’s even better—so much better...

Our moment is interrupted by fireworks lighting up the night sky.

I didn’t think this realm had them, but they do, and they’re more impressive than the ones at the Burj Khalifa in Dubai.

He pulls away first, breaking our kiss, and looks at me with wide eyes, his lips stained red from my lipstick. It’s both funny and sexy.

I should feel guilty, but I don’t. I’m too busy being stunned.

What just happened? I wonder.

Judging by the shocked look on his face, he doesn’t know either.

“Get in the coach,” he says, his jaw clenched as he wipes his lips.

I look around and see that no one noticed our little drama. They’re too busy watching the fireworks.

When I don’t move, he grabs my elbow and leads me to the stairs in front of us.

I pretend to be excited, smiling brightly as the people along the path bow their heads.

When we reach the coach at the end of the path, he opens the door for me and silently commands me to get in. I do, eager to drop the act.

King Aero climbs in after me, and soon we’re moving, surrounded by awkward silence.

“What do these marks on our wrists mean?” I ask after a few minutes, trying to break the tension.

He’s looking out his window, his expression hidden from me, but I can imagine him scowling.

When I catch a glimpse of his reflection in the glass, I see I’m wrong. His face is blank, his eyes distant.

He doesn’t answer until a few minutes later. “I’ll have my people look into it. Don’t worry about it.”

I’m surprised. I thought he knew. “You mean you don’t—”

“Not yet, but I will soon,” he interrupts, looking annoyed.

I frown, annoyed myself. He’s back to being rude.

“That’s reassuring,” I say, crossing my arms.

“Our agreement still stands, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll take you back to your realm as soon as I can. But for now, do what I expect you to do.

“Act like my wife and my queen.”

“Duly noted.” I stare out the window, frowning deeper. His wife and his queen, huh? I scoff. What a load of crap.

Despite my reluctance, I had to admit he was right. This was the whole point of our pretend wedding. So, I straightened my back and put on my best acting face.

The journey to the castle was brief, but in those few minutes, I was flooded with the memory of our wedding kiss.

His soft lips on mine, hungry for me, making me feel like I was the most wanted woman in his world…

I found myself biting my lower lip and swallowing hard. Damn, I shouldn’t be so easily swayed.

Whatever happened between us then, I’m sure it was just the pressure of the moment, getting swept up in the atmosphere. It was as simple as that. Nothing more to it.

When we arrived at the castle, we were both led to the throne room, where his subjects paid their respects to me as their new queen.

I wasn’t given a crown. It seemed they didn’t use one, judging by the king’s lack of a crown.

But they showed us both immense respect; their eyes were filled with enthusiasm and excitement.

I thought back to my dream where the king wore a crown. I guess that was just symbolic, right?

Back in the present, I glanced at my king husband on his throne, a freshly filled chalice in his hand. The night was growing late, and my apprehension was slowly building.

The next challenge was spending the night in the same room.