Chapter 44 44
All I cared about was the villa, where the doctor and Sugar hovered like frantic hens. Sugar had revived, already fanning herself and shrieking at me, “You violent lunatic! You blood-soaked menace! At least you didn’t let him finish, thank the goddess!” Her hands trembled even as she barked orders.
But Marigold still lay pale, limp, lips slack against the pillow. Her wolf fought the sedative. She whispered fragments when she stirred—Thunder’s name, the memory of his touch—and every time she did, my rage clawed at my ribs.
I held her hand anyway. Rough, grounding. My wolf steadying hers.
Outside, the storm eased. Inside, I knew this wasn’t over. Not with Wolfgang. Not with the council. Not with her.
Not with me.
MARIGOLD POV
I didn’t expect to be targeted inside the villa.
This was Alpha Gregor’s territory, his wolves prowled every shadow, and the walls themselves practically smelled of his dominance. The villa was supposed to be my sanctuary—the nearest residence to the royal palace, carefully hand-picked by Prince Leon and approved by the King. Yet Thunder had managed to slip through like some rat in disguise. If he could reach my bedroom—my bed—then what use was the title of “future princess”? What use was being under the protection of alphas and kings if I could still be cornered like prey in the night?
And now… I couldn’t stop asking myself the ugly questions.
Did my parents know about this? Did they plan it? Did they think kidnapping me would somehow win them favor with the council, with the wolves who wanted rebellion? I thought they’d be ecstatic that Margaux was chosen to marry the prince. Pride, status, riches—everything they ever wanted. But maybe I had underestimated just how much of a pawn they were willing to make me.
I should have been shaking. I should have been weeping like the damsel everyone wanted me to play. But no—sass bubbled in my chest like fire. Really, Marigold? You survived years of being ignored, hated, treated like dirt, only to nearly get drugged and carried out like some fainting bride? Absolutely not.
Still, the moment I glanced sideways… the sass sort of fizzled.
Because Gregor was there.
The brooding alpha himself sat by my bed, massive frame hunched forward, elbows on his knees, his sharp jaw lit in slanted moonlight. His eyes—gods, his eyes—weren’t just watchful. They were raw. Storms lived in them. Anger. Fear. Possessiveness. That primal wolfish thing that made my pulse trip like I’d swallowed lightning.
And the strangest part?
I swore I’d felt that wolf before. Not just tonight when his rage tore Thunder’s head from his body like paper. No… deeper. Older. Familiar. Like his wolf had always been circling mine, waiting, pacing, born to guard me.
My throat tightened. “You know… for a man who swore I’d be safe in his villa, you really picked a fine night to make me almost kidnapped.”
His gaze flicked up, dangerous, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “I killed him, didn’t I?”
“That’s not the point.” My voice wobbled—sass mixing with something softer, too close to breaking. “If you hadn’t walked in right then—if you’d been even a minute late—”
His hand was suddenly on mine. Warm. Too warm.
I froze.
He leaned closer, his scent filling my lungs—pine, smoke, steel. My wolf whimpered inside me, not with fear, but with recognition, with… longing. And that was unacceptable. This man was not my mate. He was a brooding guard dog shoved into my life by politics and royals. I couldn’t afford to feel this.
Yet there he was, thumb stroking the back of my hand like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. His voice dropped to a low growl, rough around the edges:
“No one touches you again. Not while I’m here. I’ll rip apart anyone who tries.”
The words seared through me like fire and frost all at once. My cheeks burned, my chest ached. My sass—usually sharp enough to cut glass—melted on my tongue.
I swallowed, trying to breathe around the heat suffocating the air. His face was too close now. His lips were inches from mine.
And I hated that I wanted him to close the distance.
My wolf practically shoved me forward, whispering yes, yes, yes.
But at the very last second, I pulled back with a sharp inhale. “Careful, Alpha. If you keep talking like that, people might think you’re in love with me.”
His jaw tightened, his eyes burning like twin storms. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t confirm it either.
The silence between us sizzled, thick with everything unspoken.
I turned away before my wolf betrayed me. Before I betrayed myself.
Because if I leaned one inch closer, I wasn’t sure I’d stop.
And falling for Gregor was the one thing I swore I wouldn’t do.
GREGOR POV
She pulled back.
Smart, sharp-tongued little wolf. Marigold always knew when to draw the line, even when her lips were so close to mine that my wolf was clawing to tear down the distance.
But gods—that look. The flicker of sass in her eyes, daring me to break first. The way her breath hitched like she was already mine but too stubborn to admit it. Every inch of me was burning, coiled so tight I thought my chest might snap.
And then she threw that line at me.
"Careful, Alpha. If you keep talking like that, people might think you’re in love with me.”
My wolf snarled. Think?
No. It didn’t want anyone to think. It wanted everyone to know. It wanted her marked. Claimed. Branded in my scent so the world could choke on the truth.
But I—Gregor, Alpha of the strongest pack this side of the realm—I couldn’t afford such weakness. Not with her. Not when she wore the face of Margaux, the prince’s future bride. She was supposed to belong to another man.
So why did it feel like she had belonged to me all along?
My control cracked.
I leaned in before my mind could catch up, before logic, before politics, before the chains of duty could drag me back. My lips found hers.
And it was like the whole damned world went still.
She tasted of defiance and fire, like sass and sin rolled into one. Sweet and sharp at the same time—like a cowboy wolf who had spent her life fighting the world and wasn’t about to bow for anyone. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever touched, more intoxicating than blood, more dangerous than war.
My wolf howled, wild and triumphant. Ours. Ours. At last.
For a heartbeat, I let myself drown in it—the soft give of her lips, the warmth sparking through me like I’d been waiting centuries just to taste her once. My hand slid to her jaw, thumb pressing against her skin like I could memorize the shape of her face in that one reckless moment.
But then the truth roared back.
She wasn’t free. She wasn’t mine. She was Margaux—the kingdom’s jewel, the prince’s intended.
And I was a damned fool who had just kissed the one woman I was forbidden to touch.
I pulled back, breath ragged, my wolf still clawing at me to finish what I’d started, to sink teeth into the curve of her neck and leave my mark for the world to see.
Instead, I whispered against her lips, voice hoarse, desperate, “I shouldn’t have done that.”
But I couldn’t lie—not to her, not to myself. My eyes burned into hers, every word dripping with the truth I couldn’t cage.
“And yet, I’d do it again.”
My wolf thrashed inside me, begging to claim, begging to make her mine. I clenched my fists, forcing restraint, knowing I had to take this slow.
Because Marigold—whether she admitted it or not—wasn’t just another wolf. She was the wolf. The one my wolf had been waiting for all along.
The one who was supposed to be someone else’s.
She froze.