Playing The Alphas

Chapter 94: The Summons

SAMANTHA

The summons came again. This time, it was not a folded piece of parchment with crimson wax. This time, it was a guard at my door with a stern expression and a message from the king himself.

"Miss Samuels," the guard said, his voice flat and official. "You are required in the throne room. Immediately."

I stared at him. "Why?"

"I do not ask questions. I deliver messages."

"What am I supposed to wear?"

He shrugged. "Something appropriate."

The door closed behind him and I stood alone in my penthouse, my heart pounding, my hands trembling. Joanne appeared at my side, her face tight with worry.

"Something appropriate," Joanne repeated. "That is what he said?"

"Yes."

"That means the king wants you to look like a slave. A showpiece. A decoration."

She walked to the wardrobe and she pulled out a dress. It was deep blue, almost black, with a neckline that plunged too low and a hem that rose too high. The fabric was thin and sheer and it left almost nothing to the imagination.

I stared at it. "I cannot wear that."

"You have to."

"There must be something else."

Joanne shook her head. "If the king wants you to look like a showpiece, you will look like a showpiece. There is no arguing with him."

I took the dress from her hands. The fabric was light and smooth and it felt like a weight in my fingers.

"I hate this place," I whispered.

"I know," Joanne said. "But you have to survive it."

*********

The throne room was packed.

Nobles lined the walls in their finest clothes, their eyes glittering with curiosity and cruelty. The princes sat on their thrones at the far end of the room, their expressions unreadable. The king sat on the center throne, his crown gleaming in the torchlight.

And the sisters sat on either side of the princes, their smiles wide and their eyes shining with anticipation.

I stood in the center of the room, the dress clinging to my body like a second skin. I could feel every eye on me. I could hear every whisper.

"Is that the slave?"

"The one the princes are fighting over?"

"She does not look like much."

"Look at that dress. So vulgar."

"Typical. They dress them like whores and then wonder why they act like ones."

I kept my eyes forward. I kept my head high. I would not give them the satisfaction of seeing me crumble.

The king raised his hand and the room fell silent.

"Tonight," he announced, "we celebrate the arrival of my nieces, Serena and Kylie Cunningham. And we celebrate the future of our pack. The future of our bloodline."

The room erupted in applause. The sisters smiled and nodded and waved like they were royalty.

"And to mark this occasion," the king continued, "we will be treated to a demonstration of our palace’s finest slaves."

My blood turned cold.

"Let the demonstration begin!"

One by one, the slaves performed. Some sang. Their voices rose and fell like birds in flight. Some danced. Their bodies twisted and turned with grace and precision. Some recited poetry. Their words were beautiful and heartbreaking and full of longing.

I watched them with growing dread. I knew what was coming.

"Samantha Samuels," the king called. "Step forward."

I walked to the center of the room. My legs were shaking. My hands were cold. I could feel the sisters’ eyes on me, burning into my skin.

"You have been selected to perform tonight," the king said. "Show us what you can do."

I opened my mouth. "I... I cannot sing. I cannot dance. I cannot recite poetry."

The room erupted in laughter.

"Then what can you do?" Serena asked. Her voice was sweet and mocking. "Surely you have some talent."

I shook my head. "I am just a slave."

"A slave with no talent is a useless slave," Kylie said.

The sisters exchanged a look. A smile spread across Serena’s face.

"Perhaps," Serena said, "we can help."

She raised her hand. Her fingers twitched.

And suddenly, my body began to move on its own.

My arms lifted. My hips swayed. My feet shuffled across the floor. It was a dance. A grotesque, jerky dance that was both humiliating and terrifying.

I tried to stop. I tried to control my limbs. But I could not. My body was not my own.

"Serena," I gasped. "Stop."

"Why?" she asked innocently. "You are doing so well."

The court laughed and clapped. They thought it was part of the performance.

I felt tears sting my eyes. "Please. Stop."

"I do not think so."

My dress began to tear. Slowly. Inch by inch. The fabric ripped along my shoulder. Then my side. Then my leg.

I heard gasps from the crowd. Whispers. Disgust. Amusement.

"Kylie," I begged. "Please. Make her stop."

Kylie tilted her head. "Why would I do that?"

"Because you know what it is like to be humiliated. Because you know what it is like to be helpless. Because somewhere inside you, there is a shred of decency."

Kylie’s expression flickered. For a moment, something soft appeared in her eyes.

Then it was gone.

"You know nothing about me," she said. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

The dress tore further. I felt the fabric fall away from my shoulder. I felt the air on my skin. I tried to cover myself but my hands would not obey.

"Stop!" The voice cut through the laughter.

Jayce.

He rose from his throne. His eyes were blazing. His hands were clenched at his sides.

"I said stop!"

He strode toward me. His hand reached out and he grabbed my arm and he pulled me away from the center of the room. His cloak was already off his shoulders and he wrapped it around me, covering my exposed skin.

The room went silent.

Serena’s expression shifted. The smile faded. Something colder took its place.

"Prince Jayce," she said. "We were just having fun."

"You were humiliating her."

"It is a celebration. We are celebrating."

"You are torturing her. And you will stop. Now."

Serena stood. Her eyes flashed. "You cannot tell me what to do."

"Watch me."

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Then Finnian spoke. His voice was cold. Measured.

"Serena, Kylie," he said. "Perhaps you should retire for the evening."

Kylie stood. Her face was pale. Her eyes were dark.

"This is not over," she said.

"It is over for tonight," Finnian said.

The sisters walked out of the throne room. Their footsteps echoed against the marble floor. Their heads were high.

The king watched them go. Then he looked at Jayce. Then at me.

"This is an interesting development," he said.

Jayce ignored him. He looked down at me.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I nodded. I could not speak.

"Come," he said. "I will take you back to your penthouse."

He led me out of the throne room. The nobles parted to let us pass. The whispers followed us like shadows.

---

The penthouse was quiet when we arrived.

Jayce helped me to the sofa. He sat beside me. His hand did not leave my arm.

"The sisters," he said. "They are dangerous. More dangerous than you know."

"I know."

"They have magic. Old magic. The kind that does not come from the moon goddess."

I looked at him. "What do they want from me?"

He was silent for a long moment.

"I do not know," he said. "But I am going to find out."

He stood. He walked to the door. He paused.

"Stay away from them," he said. "Do not go anywhere alone. Do not accept any invitations. Do not trust anything they say."

I nodded.

He left.

I sat alone in the silence.

And I wondered what the sisters would do next.