Defying the Rogue Alpha
Chapter 152: Money

Chapter 152: Money

"Money must be made," purred the woman on his lap, tapping his chest with a long red fingernail.

Dennis’s eyes darted around. "Are the drinks free then? ’Cause I’d really prefer to buy a drink first."

The woman tilted her head. "Which one?"

"The most expensive one," he blurted, as if paying more somehow made this respectable. She smiled, gave his crotch a gratuitous squeeze, and sauntered off.

"Prude!" Lucas called out without looking up.

"Horn dog!" Dennis hissed back. "Now I understand how you managed four concubines at once."

Lucas chuckled, and for a fleeting second, there was a nostalgic glimmer in his eyes. Those days felt like they belonged to another man. Another version of him before Ava. He hadn’t been in love then. Just occupied.

Now, everything was different.

He glanced at the girl in his lap. "So, what’s happening around here?" he asked smoothly.

"Fun?" she replied, wriggling her hips with such enthusiasm he had to stabilize her with both hands.

"I think the rest of the town would disagree," he said with a wry smile. "From what I hear, things haven’t been too fun under the king’s rule."

"Everyone’s just worried," the woman said. "We hear rumors of a war coming. And nobody wants to go to war for the king."

"Rumors," Lucas echoed thoughtfully, reaching into the pocket of his pants. He retrieved a small stack of bills and handed them to her with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Then how about you give me all the rumors about the king?"

She looked down at the money, her fingers twitching with restrained glee. "No one knows much," she said, folding the bills with practiced grace. "The king’s like a shadow, always there but never seen. People say Alaric is the real power. Him and the weird magic he practices. He’s the one pulling all the strings."

Lucas leaned in, fighting the surge of unease crawling up his spine. "Go on."

She wet her lips and lowered her voice even more. "We hear he’s procured a wife for the king. Some lady from the East. Very beautiful. Already carrying the heir to the throne."

Lucas stiffened as if someone had just plunged a dagger between his ribs. Across from him, Dennis inhaled sharply.

Ava. His Ava. Pregnant. With a royal heir? What the fuck did Alaric do? Open her up and plant a baby in her?

Lucas’s jaw clenched, but he forced a smile. "Interesting rumor."

It took everything in him not to stand up and flip the entire table.

Dennis gawked at the woman. "That—uh—that seems really fast, doesn’t it?"

The girl shrugged, completely unfazed. "Like I said, it’s all rumors. But we get guests from the palace sometimes. Guards, advisors, random nobles with more money than sense. They say strange things once they’re three shots deep."

Lucas watched her count the money he’d given her, slipping them into her bra.

Dennis cleared his throat. "Do any of the palace guards come here often?"

"Oh yeah. After their shifts end. They come mostly for the girls, not the drinks," she said with a wink. "They like being pampered, and we... well, we don’t mind getting spoiled."

Lucas leaned forward, grinning wide. "You, my dear lady, just became even more attractive to me."

She giggled, flipping her hair over one shoulder and flashing him a flirty smile. "Well, I do like a man who pays well and listens."

Behind that smile, Lucas’s mind was moving faster than a northern storm.

He glanced at Dennis and gave him the smallest nod—just enough to say: We’ve got a way in.

*****

Dorian stood at his window watching the king moon over Ava. She was laughing at something Herod said and Herod was smiling.

The sight did something strange to Dorian’s insides. It felt oddly familiar. Déjà vu. He’d seen that same lovesick expression once before, plastered across the face of Lucas. And what had Dorian done? Nothing. He’d assumed it was a fling. A pretty face, a passing fascination. He’d underestimated her. Badly.

"Well," Dorian muttered to himself, turning from the window, "I’ll be damned if I let that mistake repeat itself."

He yanked a wrinkled shirt from the arm of a chair, tugging it on. With purpose in every stomp, he marched through the corridor. He made his way to the one person who made the hair on his neck stand.

The moment he entered Alaric’s chamber, the smell hit him like a brick wall made entirely of moldy herbs.

"Ugh. Honestly, you need a candle or twelve in here," Dorian said, covering his nose.

"Hey, magic man!" he called out louder.

"You insolent idiot!" Alaric snapped, not even bothering to look up from the ancient runes he was drawing in black ash.

Dorian raised his hands in dramatic surrender. "Calm down, Merlin. We’ve got a problem."

Alaric finally glanced up, suspicious as ever, his fingers still glowing faintly from whatever cursed spell he’d been working on. "What now?"

Dorian flopped onto the only relatively safe chair in the room. "Your king is making googly eyes at your guest."

Alaric blinked, confused. "What?"

"Googly. Eyes. Flirty. Fluttery. You know the look."

Alaric sighed, sitting cross-legged on the mat in the center of the room. His face twitched with irritation. "Will it kill you to show a little respect? He is a king. This kind of behavior may have been acceptable with your former alpha, but it is not welcome here."

Dorian rolled his eyes, unbothered. "Oh please, don’t give me the ’honor the throne’ speech. What I’m trying to say is—I’ve seen this happen before. Same expression will yield same poor decisions."

Alaric frowned, pausing.

"Whatever plan you’re working on, you better get your boy-king in check, fast. Because that little flutter in his chest is going to burn your entire strategy to the ground if you’re not careful."

"What do you mean?" Alaric asked slowly. His fingers had stopped tracing the glowing runes. He didn’t like to be surprised.

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