Ruthless Alpha, and his Curvy Saint Chapter 49

Angel’s POV

Breakfast was a spectacle.

Not in the elegant, refined way that noble gatherings were supposed to be. More in the way a battlefield might be considered a spectacle - chaotic, occasionally horrifying, impossible to look away from.

It started innocently enough.

Servants brought out trays of food - fresh bread, pastries, eggs prepared in ways I’d never seen, fruits that looked like they’d been harvested by angels specifically for this table. The sll alone was enough to make my stomach growl.

But I barely tasted any of it.

Because I was too busy watching the war happening directly across from .

Lyra and Sera, seated on either side of Lord rrick like bookends, had apparently decided that breakfast was the perfect ti to engage in whatever this was.

"Lord rrick," Lyra said, her voice pitched slightly higher than normal, "I was admiring the tapestries in the corridor this morning. The craftsmanship is extraordinary. Do you know the history behind them?"

rrick, to his credit, turned to her politely. "Most were commissioned by my grandfather. The battles depicted are..."

"Speaking of battles," Sera interrupted smoothly, leaning forward in a way that made her elaborate curls bounce and her neckline dip even lower, "I’ve always been fascinated by warriors. Strong n who know how to handle a sword." She paused aningfully. "Among other things."

I nearly choked on my tea.

Lyra’s smile tightened. "How fascinating, sister. Though I’ve always thought intelligence is far more attractive than brute strength. Don’t you agree, Lord rrick? A man who can appreciate art, culture, refined conversation..."

"Oh, absolutely," Sera cooed. "Though there’s sothing to be said for a man who can appreciate a woman’s... finer qualities." She touched her collarbone delicately. "Wouldn’t you say, my lord?"

"I..." rrick started.

"Lord rrick," Lyra cut in desperately, "I noticed you have an extensive library. I love to read. Poetry, especially. Do you enjoy poetry?"

"Poetry is lovely," Sera agreed before rrick could answer. "But I prefer more... physical pursuits. Riding, for instance." Another aningful pause. "I’m very good at riding."

Oh my God.

I looked down at my plate, willing myself to beco invisible.

This was mortifying.

Absolutely, completely mortifying.

"The gardens must be beautiful when the weather clears," Lyra tried again, her voice strained. "Perhaps you could show them to ? I have quite the eye for horticulture."

"I’d love to see the gardens too," Sera purred. "Though I’m more interested in the... private areas. The secret spots where one could have an intimate conversation away from prying eyes."

Lyra’s hand tightened on her fork. "I’m sure Lord rrick is far too busy to give personal tours to every guest who asks."

"Oh, I’m sure he could make ti for the right guest." Sera batted her heavily kohled eyes. "Couldn’t you, my lord?"

rrick opened his mouth.

Both sisters leaned forward expectantly.

"Actually," he said smoothly, "I’ve already promised Lady Angel a tour of the grounds."

Both won deflated visibly.

I wanted to crawl under the table.

"How... lovely," Lyra managed, her smile now more grimace than genuine expression.

"Very lovely," Sera echoed, shooting a look that could have curdled milk.

At the far end of the table, I noticed Zach - their father - had gone very still, his fork frozen in his tight grip. He was staring intensely at his plate like it held the secrets of the universe, clearly pretending he had no idea who these two mortifying won were.

I didn’t bla him.

"More tea, anyone?" a servant asked brightly, completely oblivious to the tension.

"Yes please," Lyra and Sera said in unison.

Then glared at each other.

This was going to be a long breakfast.

It got worse.

Sera "accidentally" knocked her napkin off the table and bent to retrieve it in a way that was neither accidental nor subtle.

Lyra responded by laughing at sothing rrick said - sothing that genuinely wasn’t funny - with enough enthusiasm to make nearby servants jump.

Sera complinted rrick’s "strong hands" while watching him cut his food.

Lyra touched his arm while asking him to pass the jam.

It was like watching two cats fighting over a piece of fish, except the cats were wearing too much makeup and borrowed dresses, and the fish was a bemused lord who kept glancing at like he was silently begging for rescue.

Lyra, please, I thought desperately. Please stop. You’re better than this.

But she wasn’t stopping. If anything, she was getting more desperate, more obvious, trying harder and harder to get even a fraction of the attention rrick kept directing toward .

"Lord rrick," Sera said, her voice dropping to what she probably thought was seductive, "I was hoping you might show your..."

"Actually," I blurted out, unable to take it anymore, "I’m quite full. Thank you for the wonderful breakfast."

Everyone turned to look at .

I stood, perhaps a bit too quickly, my chair scraping against the floor.

rrick stood imdiately, the perfect gentleman. "Of course. Shall we begin that tour?"

"Actually..." I looked at Lyra, who was staring at with barely concealed desperation. "Perhaps you should take Lyra instead? She’s been so eager to see the castle, and I’m feeling rather tired from the journey still."

The gratitude in Lyra’s eyes was almost painful.

But Sera’s expression transford into sothing dark and venomous.

She turned to with a look of pure hatred.

I stared back, eting her gaze head-on.

What? my expression said clearly. Does he belong to you?

Because that’s what this was really about, wasn’t it? Not genuine interest in rrick. Just the competitive need to win, to claim, to have what soone else wanted simply because they wanted it.

I didn’t like Sera.

Hadn’t liked her from the mont we t, and every subsequent interaction had only confird my initial assessnt.

The distasteful look that passed between us could have frozen fire.

Then Sera stood abruptly, her chair nearly toppling backward.

"Excuse ," she said through gritted teeth.

She stord out of the dining room, her dress swishing dramatically, her carefully arranged curls bouncing with each furious step.

Good riddance.

I turned back to find Uriel watching with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

"Is everything alright?" I asked, suddenly nervous under his scrutiny.

"Would you like to talk?" he asked quietly. "Privately?"

My heart did sothing complicated in my chest.

I glanced toward the Alpha, who was watching our exchange with his usual impassive expression.

"Would that be... acceptable?" I asked hesitantly.

"I’ve already asked permission," Uriel said. "The Alpha has granted it."

Oh.

"Then... yes. I suppose we could talk."

Uriel stood and offered his arm.

I took it, hyperaware of rrick’s silver eyes following our movent, of the Alpha’s continued attention.

We left the dining room together.

And my anxiety about what Uriel wanted to say climbed with every step.