Claimed by the Wrong Alphas

Kael

If there was anything I knew about Alphas since I became Alpha Winter’s second son, it was their close affinity to their sons.

To an average Alpha, having a son was the best thing they could ever accomplish in our world. To them, having sons meant they were doing something right. Securing the future of their packs, continuing their bloodlines, ensuring their legacies would survive long after they were gone.

Most of the time, fleeting thoughts of my parents would flash through my mind, even though I had no recollection of my childhood. I did hear the healer who had taken care of me after I was rescued from the last fighting ring whisper to my Master that he was sure I had an Alpha heritage.

That, that was the only reason I’d been able to survive the poison.

Most of the time, I think about what it would have been like for me if I were still with my parents, and my dad turned out to be an Alpha. Would I ever come to Ravenshore? Would I be constantly under the pressure faced by Alpha sons to outdo each other?

Would I come to Ravenshore to network with the right clique of Alpha sons and form connections, bonds and secure my stand with the Alpha King rulership council before I graduate? Would I take any of the girls from Ebonvale as my Luna, regardless of whether she’s my fated mate or not?

And years later, when I find my mate, maintain the front that my marriage was perfect while I seek the arms of my fated mate each night?

That was practically how everything worked here.

Alpha sons were one of the most messed-up groups of boys I’d ever seen, and the status of their families reflected in everything they did.

But as I stared at Alpha Terry, Rhett’s father, sitting with his head in his hands and staring at the floor with blank desperation, I thought this was probably the first Alpha I’d met who just wanted his son to survive.

Not because Rhett was his heir or for whatever political advantage he might represent, but because he truly, genuinely loved his son as a person.