Chapter 100

“Presenting Prince Varen Thorne and Lady Thalassa.”

The announcer’s voice echoed across the grand ballroom as we made our entrance. The moment we crossed the threshold, the crowd instinctively parted, creating space for us.

Gasps and hushed whispers rippled through the gathering with every step we took toward the center of the room. It would be an understatement to say the commotion was caused solely by my striking gown and the exquisite emerald necklace resting between my breasts. I had no doubt that Varen, looking effortlessly alluring in his black tuxedo, commanded as much attention as I did. Yet, the true reason behind the crowd’s scrutiny wasn’t our appearance—it was the audacity of our presence. A mixed-breed prince and a human woman, standing side by side, our heads held high.

We moved forward with measured grace until we reached the throne podium, where each guest was expected to bow before the King and Queen. My stomach churned at the thought of bowing to Selene, but I had a role to play.

I met Hadrian’s gaze and lowered myself into a perfectly rehearsed curtsy, the hours of practice in my chamber paying off. The slit of my gown revealed the smooth line of my leg, accentuated by my Manolo Blahnik heels. Hadrian’s eyes darkened with unmistakable hunger. I allowed myself a small, knowing smile before briefly glancing at Selene. Her fury was palpable, her posture so rigid she might as well have been carved from stone. I could feel the weight of her seething glare, but instead of cowering, a thrill coursed through me. I was playing a dangerous game, but the satisfaction was worth the risk.

Hadrian’s eyes smoldered with desire, but lust wasn’t the only emotion simmering beneath the surface. When his gaze shifted to Varen, I saw the primal rage simmering there, his fingers curling against the armrests of his throne, claws threatening to break free. He wanted to rip Varen apart simply for the crime of holding my hand. I could sense Varen's unease, but I barely suppressed a laugh. I wanted Hadrian to squirm. I wanted him to burn with jealousy, to feel even a fraction of the torment I had endured watching him parade Selene around. Was it petty? Absolutely. Selfish? Without a doubt. But at that moment, I relished it.

“You may rise,” Hadrian finally commanded, his voice tight as he cleared his throat.

I straightened slowly, arching my back just enough to draw his attention to my décolletage, locking eyes with him in quiet defiance. His lips pressed into a thin line, as if he were holding back something far more inappropriate than a royal decree. I maintained my composed smile, all the while fully aware that his eyes had stripped me bare a dozen times over.

Varen gave my hand a gentle squeeze, a silent plea not to push things further. I acknowledged it with the smallest nod before offering a polite, calculated smile to both Hadrian and Selene. Varen followed my lead, and together we stepped aside, making way for the next guests to pay their respects.

As soon as we moved out of the spotlight, a familiar hand landed on my shoulder.

“That was absolutely brilliant!” Penrose’s laughter bubbled up, her excitement evident as she practically bounced in place.

“You saw that?” I asked, a touch embarrassed.

She gave me an approving once-over, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “I must say, I did an exceptional job picking out that dress. And you? You worked it to perfection, honey.”

“Thanks,” I chuckled, glancing around. “Where’s Lucian?”

Penrose rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, he mumbled something about needing to ‘find someone’ and just disappeared. Typical. But don’t worry, I plan to kick his sorry ass when I catch him.” Her grin turned positively wicked.

I laughed. “I almost feel bad for him.”

Penrose’s eyes sparkled with mischief, already plotting her revenge. “By the way, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my brother so... undone. He looked ready to ravish you right there in front of the entire court.”

“Penrose, please,” I muttered, lowering my voice and glancing around nervously.

She waved off my embarrassment with a chuckle, but then her gaze drifted to Varen. A playful smile curved her lips as she greeted him with an exaggerated bow. “Prince Varen.”

I cringed internally. Penrose had always been interested in women, or so I thought. But the truly unsettling part wasn’t her flirtation—it was Varen’s reaction.

His eyes raked over her with slow, deliberate interest, and when they met hers again, a sly, knowing smirk spread across his face.

My jaw nearly hit the floor.

"Good evening, Lady Kessler," Varen’s voice dropped to a rich, velvety tone I had never heard him use before. "You look exquisite tonight."

"Thank you, Prince Varen." Penrose’s flirtatious response made it impossible for me to keep my jaw from dropping.

"You are most welcome, Lady of Kessler." There was a sly edge to Varen’s tone that made me question whether I had underestimated him all along. Clearly, his charm wasn’t lacking when it came to seduction.

I shouldn't have been surprised that Varen found Penrose attractive. She was, as always, breathtaking—her long, golden hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes gleaming like stars against the night sky. The shimmering gold gown she wore clung to her figure with an unapologetic confidence, the plunging neckline and deep V-shaped open back highlighting every elegant curve. Yet, despite how stunning she was, their mutual attraction was something I hadn’t seen coming.

"I think I’ll leave you two to enjoy each other’s company," I teased with a wicked smirk, slowly stepping away from them.

Neither of them seemed to notice my departure. Suppressing a chuckle, I made my way to the champagne table, filling a glass as I took in the bustling ballroom. The space was overly warm, suffocating under the weight of too many curious gazes tracking my every move. I needed air, an escape from the prying eyes dissecting every inch of me. Then, I spotted it—a door leading to a terrace, seemingly empty.

Without hesitation, I weaved through the crowd and stepped outside, inhaling deeply as I leaned against the balcony railing. The crisp night air offered a brief moment of solace, the coolness soothing against my skin as I sipped my champagne.

But peace was short-lived.

"So here you are, vampire’s whore."

The familiar, venomous voice made my spine stiffen.

I turned slowly, and there he was—Merrick, his mouth twisted in the same disgusting grin I had hoped to never see again. He shut the terrace doors behind him, trapping me in his presence. My pulse quickened, but I forced myself to remain composed. If Merrick was here, it meant my father could be lurking nearby as well. A wave of unease washed over me, but then I remembered Varen’s words. I was no longer that weak, frightened girl Merrick had known. I had grown stronger, and he had no idea.

"Merrick..." I drawled, my lips curling into a smirk as I looked him over. "I thought I smelled something foul in the ballroom. Now I see it was just you." I let out a low chuckle.

"Filthy, traitorous bitch," he spat, his teeth grinding together. "If we weren’t on enemy territory, I’d end you right now." His eyes burned with raw fury.

"Traitor?" I scoffed, folding my arms. "I was never part of your pack. I was never a wolf. And yet you dare to call me disloyal after you and your kind tried to sell me off like cattle?"

Merrick stepped closer, his brow lifting in mock surprise.

"You’ve grown bold," he sneered. "You dare talk back to me?"

I held my ground, my gaze unwavering as I sized him up. In my mind, I assessed his stance, his weaknesses, and the simple truth that I was stronger now. The realization sparked a dangerous thrill within me, and I let my lips curve into a taunting smirk.

That was all it took.

"You’re dead, bitch!" he roared, his hand shooting out and clamping around my throat.

I grasped his wrist with minimal effort, applying just enough pressure to feel his grip falter. A dark satisfaction unfurled within me. For the first time, I craved his pain—not in a bloodthirsty, vampiric sense, but a deeper, primal need to watch him suffer. My eyes locked onto his, letting him feel the fear creeping into his bones. His face twisted with confusion and panic, his confidence cracking beneath the surface.

I tightened my hold, and I could feel his bones strain under my touch. Then, without warning, the terrace doors burst open with a force that made me jump.

In a blur, Merrick was struck down with a single, brutal punch to the jaw. The force sent him sprawling to the ground, unconscious before he could even register what had happened.

I blinked, staring in disbelief.

The man who had intervened was standing before me, his chest rising and falling with quiet fury—but his anger wasn’t directed at me.

He took a step closer, his dark eyes scanning me carefully. That was when I truly noticed him. He was easily over six feet tall, his imposing frame casting a shadow over me. Midnight-black hair framed his face, and his obsidian eyes shimmered faintly under the moonlight. His features were striking—sharp cheekbones, a defined jawline that exuded strength and dominance. And beneath his tailored shirt and jacket, muscles rippled with every slight movement, impossible to ignore.

This man was the epitome of raw masculinity. The first man to stir something deep within me since Hadrian.

"Are you alright?" His voice was deep, laced with concern as he offered me a dazzling smile.

"Y-yeah," I stammered, suddenly self-conscious. "I’m fine. Thank you."

He chuckled softly, extending his hand. "Kenzo," he introduced himself, his grip firm and warm. "Alpha Kenzo."