Chapter 1 The Ideal Alpha Male
The Ideal Alpha Male
Ansel
Valentin Lyon was an exceptionally attractive man.
If he weren’t stinking rich already, he could be making a fortune as a model.
Tousled black hair, bright blue eyes, summer tan all year round, chiseled jaw covered with dark stubble, tall, muscled body, wide shoulders, and impeccable style.
He had an Ivy League degree in business, played polo—yes, the kind with horses—and my parents adored him.
What was more, Valentin Lyon wanted me.
He smiled at me over the table, elegantly tilting his glass against mine. My father, who sat to Valentin’s right, nodded at me in encouragement. I mimicked Valentin’s gesture, and we drank the champagne, holding each other’s gazes. The air seemed to shimmer around us, and I got a little dizzy.
My father was convinced Valentin would soon pop the question. Maybe even tonight. I’d be engaged at nineteen, before my first heat, to the most desirable alpha in Ardaine.
I sincerely hoped I’d get more time to make up my mind because I knew I should want Valentin. But did I really?
When the dinner was over and the small crowd mingled in my parents’ opulent living room, Valentin followed me like a shadow.
“I admire your father greatly, Ansel,” he said in his polished, melodic voice.
“Mhmm.”
“He is ruthless in business but a devoted family man at home.”
I smiled up at him. It was true.
“I hope I can one day live up to his example.”
With no idea what to say to him, I took another sip of my father’s finest champagne.
The string quintet began a classic tune I’d heard a hundred times at these parties, and I sweated under my too tight suit.
Valentin had always been flawlessly gallant and polite toward me, and I never knew what to say in response. It bothered me.
I wondered if I even knew him. Sure, he’d been around forever, and we’d talked for hours, but never about anything of substance.
“I see that the family portraits have been restored,” he said, glancing at the paintings lining the walls.
“Your papa mentioned the restoration cost a fortune, but I must say, it was worth it. This house has witnessed prosperity and grace for generations, and the noble faces of your ancestors are the proof.”
“My family never belonged to the nobility,” I corrected him. “They earned their fortune through the Atlantic slave trade in the late seventeen hundreds.”
But Valentin already knew that, and it didn’t seem to dampen his enthusiasm in the least. His carefree smile only widened. “History is strange, isn’t it?” He paused in front of one of the oldest paintings in a gaudy carved frame. “Who is this gentleman?”
“Um. Yes. That’s Yves Perrault, my great-great-grandfather.”
“Ah. He was a senator, wasn’t he?”
“Yes. And that’s Alain Perrault, his oldest son and my great-grandfather.”
Valentin hummed appreciatively. “The famous judge.”
“More like notorious.” Was Valentin even listening to what I was saying? “He opposed the rise of the omega rights movement in the nineteen thirties.”
“Judge Alain Perrault received the presidential medal,” my father said from behind me, and I straightened my spine. I hadn’t known he was standing so close.
“And, of course, your grandfather Augustus.” Valentin smirked at the next painting.
It stuck out from the others, which was why my father had wanted to take it down, but my papa never let him, saying it added flair to the living room—whatever that meant.
My granddad’s portrait had been done by a friend of his.
Rather than aspiring to the most exact likeness, it captured my granddad’s personality with clashing colors, bold brush strokes, and dreamlike shapes swirling in the background.
Boisterous, quirky, and full of joy. The others could have been eaten by mice in our cellar for all I cared, but I loved this painting.
“My pater was the only black sheep in the family,” Father said.
“I liked Granddad.” I bit my tongue. I sounded childish, dammit.
Valentin smiled benevolently at me. “You have to admit, he was a little outlandish.”
“Outlandish,” my father echoed derisively.
“He used to take Ansel on weekends to his cabin in the mountains and fill his head with stories about fairies and goblins. We once spent an entire evening explaining to Ansel that dragons didn’t exist. Remember, Ansel?
You were about eight years old, and you argued like a little lawyer. ”
I smiled at the memories. “Granddad said dragons went flying to Cross River and that just after sundown, you could watch them circle above the mountains.” Granddad had told the most amazing stories.
He would wink at me conspiratorially as if he were letting me in on a secret about a magical world nobody knew about but us.
The magic is in the soil, Ansel, right here around the cabin.
That’s why the dragons come here. If you’re patient, you’ll see them.
I never did, but I would nod, sit still, and watch the stars blink to life.
Valentin frowned up at the portrait. “Didn’t he leave you the cabin, Ansel?”
“He did.” I hadn’t been up there since he died. I was afraid the memories would be too painful. At the same time, the small cabin lured me like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Maybe one of these days, I’d gather enough courage to go there again.
“The property has no value. It’s within the national park borders, and we’d have to bribe half of the city to get a permit to develop it.
” Father had always dismissed my inheritance, saying the trust fund was negligible, Granddad’s old townhouse stood in a working-class neighborhood, and the cabin was dilapidated.
I was glad. My father would have torn the cabin down and built a chalet for fifty guests and a spa if he had been allowed.
And as for the trust fund—what was pocket change for Father, others could live off for decades.
I didn’t contradict him. There was no point.
“You’re flushed, Ansel,” Valentin said. “It’s hot in here, isn’t it?”
“Valentin, why don’t you accompany Ansel to the garden?” my father suggested before I could reply. “He needs some fresh air.”
Alone with Valentin? My slight nausea wasn’t excitement—of that, I was sure.
Valentin bowed to my father pleasantly and offered me his arm. Encouraged by my father’s jovial smile, I looped my arm through Valentin’s, and he led me to the balcony and down the stairs to my papa’s rose garden. Outside, the music was muted, and he lowered his voice.
“I’d been hoping to catch a moment alone with you,” he said.
My nerves spiked, and I struggled against the urge to belch. I averted my face and pretended to clear my throat. I managed a quiet little burp that I blew out of the corner of my mouth. The champagne churned in my stomach. Lord, that was embarrassing! Hopefully, Valentin didn’t notice.
“Ansel, I talked to your father earlier today.” He sounded so important all of a sudden. After a dramatic pause, he sighed. “I know I should wait, but I’m simply too enamored.”
Enamored?
What a strange word. He wouldn’t ask me now, would he? Could I stop him before he did? I wanted to draw my arm away, but Valentin caught my hand in both of his, making me face him.
He didn’t let me speak.
“I swear, every day, you become more beautiful.” He squeezed my hand. “I need to hurry up before there’s a line of eligible alphas in front of your door, hm?”
He laughed for some reason, but I didn’t find his words funny. The thought of men lining up to court me bewildered me.
Lowering his voice to a seductive purr, he said, “I will marry you and claim you, Ansel, before your first heat.”
And he lifted my hand to his lips, kissing my wrist.
I jerked my hand away. I’d been wondering when this would happen, and it had seemed exciting in my head. But now Valentin was here, asking the million-dollar question, and all I felt was disappointment and fear.
“Can I kiss you, darling?”
He didn’t wait for my answer. He hadn’t even asked me if I wanted to marry him, had he? He’d just barreled forward. Exactly like my father.
His sickly sweet cologne wafted over my face, and his thin lips nipped at mine. Then he grabbed me, crushing me to his body, and I felt his sizeable erection digging into my belly. His tongue invaded my mouth.
I tried to push him away, but it was like he didn’t feel me struggling.
He licked into my mouth, thrust against my stomach, and I wanted to run.
He tasted like wet cardboard. I was going to throw up.
I whimpered, which of course Valentin took as encouragement.
He grabbed my ass cheek and squeezed, rubbing against me.
Not knowing what else to do, I stepped on his foot. Hard.
Finally, he tore away.
“Wha—”
“I think I saw my father on the balcony behind you,” I blurted, breathless.
Valentin spun around, looking up at the facade. “Where?”
“He…there? Um. It was just a shadow.” I laughed awkwardly. “Sorry. I’m…nervous.”
Valentin smiled at me sweetly, cupping my cheek.
“You’re so innocent, darling. You make me burn. I want to claim you in front of everyone and then whisk you away to somewhere we can be alone.”
This was getting really, really bad. “I…”
“Shh. I understand. Shall we go back? I can’t wait to announce the news.”
What news? He didn’t even ask me!
“Valentin, wait.”
“Yes, darling?”
He frowned as I struggled to find words. I couldn’t tell him no outright, could I? What if he made a scene in front of everyone? But the thought of him announcing our engagement at the party right now filled me with sheer terror.
“I need time.”
Valentin’s pretty face contorted into a haughty sneer.
A familiar one. I must have suppressed the memory, but I’d seen this expression on his face before.
Years ago. I’d been a gangly preteen, and Valentin must have been around twenty.
Why had he sneered at me like that? I couldn’t remember the reason, but I did remember the face.