The Alpha King

Harper

At the start of the day it was going by as slowly as usual. But that was a good thing. School was my home. I loved it. But then it wasn't.

The intercom crackled over the sound of the busy classroom. "Excuse me Miss Larroy?"

"Yes?" My English teacher replied. She let out a sigh as a spit wad flew across the classrom and hit someone in the neck.

"Could we see Harper Devlon to the office, she'll be back in a moment," said the office lady. 

I gulped silently. The class turned in my direction. I covered my face with my hair. Gathering my stuff while all of their eyes were on me was hard. My fingers kept fumbling. 

"Daddy's probably going to take her to a whore house and leave her," Blakely Jones whispered to the boy sitting next to. It was a stage whispered so of course the whole class heard. I covered my face more. The teacher didn't say anything. Though I suppose that since she's older, she wouldn't have heard, so it's okay. 

And then I exited the classroom. 

I made my way down the hallway, dread feeling my stomach. Had I done something wrong? Was I going to be punished? Why were they here? I was scared. My hands were shaking as I put my stuff in my locker and attempted to calm my nerves. 

I couldn't breathe as I made my way to the office.

But then I saw him.

"Jameson!" I screeched as soon as I saw his familiar hair. I flew into his open arms and he squeezed me tight. I haven't seen him since he tried to adopt me. I didn't question why; I just assumed he was busy. 

"Harper," he breathed into my hair. His voice cracked as he held me. I let out a small sobs. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm so, so sorry I didn't come back for you."

"It's okay," I cried. "I know you couldn't do anything else." I pulled away from his hug. I noticed the principle had excited the room. He was almost the same as I remember him; tall, roguish red hair, nice, straight teeth. The only things that were noticeably different was his muscle mass, his broader shoulders and the cut of his jawline. 

He was huge. 

"Wow," I giggled. "Foxy, you're tall!" He rolls his eyes at the nickname I gave him when we were children. 

"Goddess," he whispered, his voice pained. "Harper, you look the same way I left you." 

I giggled some more. "Jameson... I've grown four inches. I'm 5'3 now."

His eyebrows crinkled in obvious distress. "But Harper---"

"You don't have to worry about me." 

He let out a hearty laugh. "I'll always worry about you, sweetheart."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "So..."

"Oh, yeah!" Jameson exclaimed suddenly. His face immediately went from despair to happy in a blink of an eye. "You're coming with me to the pack house for the upcoming ball. Well, you're coming with me after school in two days."

I knew the ball that he was talking about. Everyone does. It's a ball that everyone attends, especially unmated werewolves. They go to find their mates, obviously. The drama that ensues this endeavor is hilarious. When Jameson and I were younger, we would sneak out of the house when the Coxes were to drunk or high to realize we were gone. For a while, it was our only escape. We would sit and watch for hours, sometimes staying up the whole night. It was our own personal reality show. 

My heart sank when I realized that he wasn't taking me to the pack house today. Or tomorrow for that matter. I shook off my disappointment. 

"But... the Coxes..." I trailed off.