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Violet decided she hated the Elites. Not because they were headed by her nemesis Elsie Lancaster but because they were all vain and fake.

Everything about the Luncheon revolved around position, appearance, and who got seated where to maximize matchmaking potential. No discussion about legacy values. No talk about leadership, vision, or growth.

Just which girl best matched which alpha’s bloodline like this was a goddamn dress fitting.

As if that wasn’t already enough, they were soon grouped into their roles, and of course, Violet and her friends were assigned as waitresses.

How predictable.

Now they stood through a long-winded lecture on how to serve, present, smile, speak politely—blah, blah, blah. All of it made Violet’s stomach churn so hard she genuinely considered vomiting. This wasn’t her scene. It was suffocating, nauseating, and downright insulting.

Violet couldn’t take it anymore. She broke away from the group and stormed off—not even when Penelope, their supposedly elite leader, called after her. She needed air, and no one was going to stop her.

And no one did. Not with that murderous scowl on her face.

Violet had no idea where to go. Everywhere she turned, students were gawking at her. It made her uncomfortable. For once, she just wanted to be invisible.

So she kept walking until she reached the back of the school building. Thankfully, nobody was there. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply.

Violet Purple was obviously stressed. She was planning a Queen Bee’s downfall and juggling four Alpha males. It was bound to take a toll on her.

So she stood there, taking deep breaths in and out until she felt a little better. Everything would work out. It had to go according to plan. There was nothing to worry about.

Steady now, Violet decided to leave, except the moment she turned the corner, she bumped into someone. The force nearly knocked her to the ground, if not for the strong arms that wrapped around her waist.

Griffin Hale.

Violet wasn’t just surprised to have bumped into the East House Alpha, no, she was rendered speechless for three very obvious reasons:

1. Griffin Hale was shirtless, putting all those heavily muscled abs and chiseled glory on display.

2. He was sweating, and not delicately either. He looked like he’d just finished some serious training. Now the sweat slicked across his skin like oil, making him ripe for the taking.

3. His hair was down. That rich, healthy, perfectly red mane fell around his shoulders, making him look every inch like her hot, sexy Viking warrior.

Dear moon goddess.

This guy was her forbidden fruit.

Violet’s fingers began to itch again—like some kind of damned addict—as the urge to run her hand through Griffin’s hair overtook her once more. She grimaced inwardly.

Yep. She definitely had a hair fetish.

Immediately, she stepped back before she did something stupid, already missing the heat of his body.

"Sorry about that," Violet said, her voice a little breathy, her pulse quickening by the second.

"No, it’s nothing," Griffin replied smoothly. "You’re actually the one I was looking for."

"Huh?" Violet blinked in confusion.

Then Griffin ran his hand through that glorious hair and said, "I need your help, actually. Can you help me put my hair into a top knot?"

"Eeh?" Violet nearly shouted, startled.

Realizing how unlady-like that was, she cleared her throat quickly. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me right. I need you to tie my hair." Griffin’s voice was firm now, and his gaze locked onto hers.

Violet was stunned.

Nah. Nope. No way. This had to be a trap. A test. Some alpha prank waiting to be played. She wasn’t going to fall for that!

"I think I have to go." Violet pointed behind her awkwardly and turned to leave, but Griffin grabbed her and pulled her flush against him.

Her breath hitched.

"Griffin...?" Violet had no idea what to think anymore.

But Griffin growled. The sound vibrated through her, curling heat low in her belly. She was thoroughly, completely fucked.

"Don’t you want me like the others?" he asked, his voice soft but pained.

"W-what?"

"I thought you liked my hair. Don’t you want me? Or is it just the others that do it for you and not me? You don’t want me in your harem, is that it?"

Dear Creator.

Griffin Hale actually wanted this? Wanted her to touch his hair? Wasn’t that gesture intimate for people of the East or something? And yet, he was asking her? Violet’s mind spun.

Unaware of her inner crisis, Griffin sighed, defeated. "Maybe Asher was wrong about this after all. It’s not like I expected you to want me anyway. It’s always the others. I’m the default one. No one ever wants—mmmh."

Violet silenced his nonsense with a kiss. Griffin made a surprised sound in the back of his throat before kissing her back.

He tasted like sunlight and smelled like the earth, and he felt like strength. Violet had never felt safer in anyone’s arms.

When they finally broke apart for air, Violet warned him, "Don’t you ever say that again! I mean, who wouldn’t want you? You’re nice, kind, strong, hot and—"

"You think I’m hot?" Griffin asked, grinning now.

Violet rolled her eyes. "Don’t get cocky." Then added, "And maybe next time you guys are planning my harem behind my back, you could actually invite me to the meeting. You don’t get to make decisions for me."

"Sooo..." Griffin asked tentatively, "do you agree to date all four of us or not?"

"Well..." Violet said thoughtfully, "I’ll give my answer after Parents Week." That is, if they still want her after her little revenge.

She added, "But I can never say no to a test run."

Griffin smiled. "A test run, huh? That’s what you think of us?"

Violet smirked. "I have to know my goodies are in good working condition before I commit to the full purchase."

"Mmhmm." Griffin laughed heartily, then kissed her—slow and deep, like he wanted to savor her.

But most importantly, Violet pulled back just enough to ask, "Am I still tying your knot?"

Griffin burst into laughter.