Chapter 26 26
Marigold POV
The storm hadn’t stopped. The sea roared below like it was mad at the moon, and the air outside was heavy with salt and thunder. I should’ve been asleep, curled up in that ridiculously oversized bed Sugar shoved me into—seriously, who needs twenty-seven pillows? But no. My wolf was restless, my head was buzzing, and something told me Alpha Gregor was probably brooding, half naked again, somewhere like a tragic hero in a bad romance novel with bad ending.
I was right.
When I padded onto the shared balcony, satin robe swishing against my legs (thank you, Sugar, for saving me from streaking across this royal palace-sized “vacation house”), there he was—Alpha Gregor. Sweatpants. And daymmmn that bulge!
Slippers. Gray t-shirt clinging to his chest like it was sculpted for war and seduction. I mean, come on. Could the moon goddess give me a break? The man was Henry Cavill with brooding attitude.
“You’re still awake?” I said, leaning casually on the railing like my knees weren’t buckling at the sight of him. Trying my best not to looked at the daymmmn bulge. Heaven help me.
He turned, eyes catching mine. That wolf-dark gaze of his was impossible to hold, so naturally, I held it—because sass is armor and I refuse to be the first one to blink. “Couldn’t sleep. Too many thoughts.” His voice was low, that rumbling growl of his that made my stomach do very unladylike somersaults.
“Oh? Big, scary Alpha haunted by his own brain? How tragic.” I smirked, tugging my robe tighter even though his eyes weren’t exactly straying. Yet.
He didn’t rise to the bait this time. Instead, he straightened, walked over, and leaned beside me on the railing. The storm cast his profile in sharp shadows, every line of him too serious, too intense. “I talked with Prince Leon. We have a plan.”
I groaned immediately. “Oh no. I don’t like that tone. That’s the ‘I’m about to suggest something life-threatening and stupid’ tone.”
“You’ll pretend to be Margaux.”
Shocking? No. That was his first plan anyway.
So I'm not surprised.
My head snapped toward him. “Excuse me? Pretend to be the sister who hated me, the same one whose perfect existence makes me want to gag? That Margaux?”
“Yes.”
“But I thought that plan was stupid because we were now haunted?”
His jaw tightened, but there was no mocking in his eyes. Just the heavy seriousness of a wolf carrying the weight of too much. “It’s the only way. The king believes she’s alive. Your family believed the same. If you step into her role, we can buy time. Control the story.”
I laughed. Loud. Bitter. “Oh, sure. Just hand me a crown, a fancy dress, and maybe a big shiny target on my back. Perfect disguise!”
“You’ll have me.”
And just like that, my throat went dry.
Sir…
That was hot.
I tried for sass, I really did. “Wow. Comforting. You’ll stand there all broody while I get my head chopped off? What an honor.”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t snarl back. He just looked at me, deep and steady. “Marigold. I will never leave you. I would risk my life for yours.”
Oh.
No sass prepared me for that.
Something in his tone—it wasn’t a throwaway promise, wasn’t an Alpha being dramatic. He meant it. My stomach dropped. My wolf hummed. And me? I panicked. Because I was suddenly very aware of how close he was, how the stormlight caught in his eyes, how his arm brushed mine just barely but enough to set my skin on fire.
So, naturally, I did the only logical thing. I blurted, “Don’t look at me like that.”
His brow arched. “Like what?”
“Like—like I’m… edible or something.”
Stupid mouth.
A slow grin tugged his lips, dangerous and smug. “Maybe you are.”
I nearly choked on my own tongue. “Excuse you?!”
“You bite your lip when you’re nervous,” he said simply, gaze flicking down to prove his point. Oh moon goddess, I wasbiting my lip. Damn it.
I turned away, staring furiously at the crashing waves, praying the storm would just sweep me into the sea and save me from this man and his ridiculous intensity. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re stubborn.”
“Better stubborn than broody!” With bulge.
“Better broody than reckless.”
We stood there, glaring at each other while the rain misted the air and thunder rolled in the distance. The storm was wild. My wolf was wilder. And somewhere in the back of my head, I knew this was dangerous—standing too close, hearing him vow to risk everything for me, knowing I wasn’t Margaux, knowing he didn’t care.
My heart thudded. My sass faltered. And when his hand brushed mine on the railing, just barely, I nearly forgot how to breathe.
The storm didn’t let up. The waves crashed like angry drums, and the lightning lit Gregor’s face in flashes—too sharp, too beautiful, too dangerous. His hand brushed mine again on the railing, slow, deliberate, like he knew exactly what he was doing to my poor, traitorous wolf.
I told myself not to look up. Not to meet his eyes. But of course, I did.
And moon help me, he was already staring. Licked his lips. That was unfair. He looked seductive.
Dark, burning, storm-tossed eyes that didn’t see Margaux, didn’t see an obligation, didn’t even see an Alpha responsibility. He just saw me. Marigold. Messy, sassy, robe-wearing disaster me.
My breath caught. My pulse tripped.
Then he leaned closer.
So close I felt his warmth despite the cold wind. His scent—cedar, steel, and wolf—wrapped around me, pulling me under. His gaze flicked down. To my lips. Back up.
Oh hell. He was really going to do it. He was going to kiss me.
And the worst part? I wanted him to.
The robe slipped a little off my shoulder, because why not?
And I froze—but Alpha Gregor’s eyes softened, his hand twitching like he wanted to fix it, cover me, protect me, and kiss me all at once.
“Gregor…” I whispered, not even knowing if it was a warning or a plea.
“Marigold,” he murmured back, voice like thunder right before it breaks.
And then—
“HELLO, LOVEBIRDS!”
I nearly fell over the balcony railing.
Sugar stood in the doorway, one hand on her hip, the other holding what looked like a champagne glass half-full of soda. She squinted at us through the stormlight. “Am I interrupting your forbidden balcony make-out session or should I go get popcorn?”
Alpha Gregor growled low in his throat, the kind of sound that made my wolf shiver. “Go back inside.”
“Rude,” Sugar said cheerfully, sipping her soda. “I was just coming to see if you two wanted midnight snacks. But clearly, you’re busy smoldering.” She did exaggerated air quotes with her free hand.
I clutched the robe tighter around myself, cheeks flaming, lips still tingling like they knew what almost happened. “We were not smoldering!”
“Sweetheart, if that wasn’t smoldering, I don’t know what is.” Sugar grinned wickedly. “You could fry an egg with the tension out here.”
Gregor pinched the bridge of his nose like the goddess herself had cursed him. “Sugar.”
“What? I’m just saying—you two should either kiss or kill each other. Preferably not both.”
I made a strangled sound. “Can I vote for neither?!”
Internally? I vote for the bulge.
But Gregor’s eyes were still on me. Heat simmered there, storm-dark and unshaken, like Sugar’s interruption was only a pause, not a stop.
And that terrified me more than the storm itself.