Chapter 48 48
The next morning, I swore I was going to pretend last night never happened. Like… never. Ever. Happened.
Problem? Sugar.
The second she bounced into my room, tray in hand, eyes sparkling like she’d just been crowned Queen of the Sass Parade, I knew I was doomed.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, setting down my breakfast with unnecessary drama. “You look flustered.”
“I do not,” I snapped, yanking the covers higher. My cheeks were on fire. Stupid wolf, stupid hallway, stupid almost-touch that still had my skin tingling.
“You do,” she sing-songed. “Like you spent the night thinking about a certain brooding Alpha who’s downstairs stabbing eggs like they’re his mortal enemy.”
I groaned. “Sugar, please.”
“No, no, don’t Sugar me. Don’t think I didn’t notice.” She plopped onto the bed, wiggling her brows. “He came into the kitchen this morning all silent, dark eyes, hair a mess—like someone kept him awake with… thoughts. Do you know how hard it is to drink coffee with a man brooding like a tragic love poem across the room?”
“Stop.” I buried my face in a pillow.
She leaned down, whispering into the pillow like she could reach my brain directly. “What happened last night?”
“Nothing!” My voice was muffled but indignant. “Absolutely nothing!”
“Oh, sweet moon goddess.” Sugar gasped dramatically. “You kissed him again.”
I shot up so fast I nearly smacked heads with her. “We did not! He’s impossible. He’s insufferable. He’s—he’s—” My lips betrayed me by remembering the press of his mouth, the heat, the restraint that shook him like a storm barely leashed.
Sugar grinned like a cat. “Yup. Definitely kissed.”
We did not and that irritated me even more.
Meanwhile, in some far corner of the villa, I could feel Gregor’s presence—sharp, tight, contained. He was deliberately avoiding me, his wolf locked down so hard it practically pulsed through the walls.
And the maids? Oh, the maids had been watching like hawks. I saw two of them whispering in the hallway, glancing between me and the brooding Alpha like they were piecing together the world’s dullest romance novel.
By midday, I overheard one of them reporting to a courier.
“No, my lord,” the maid said, lowering her voice. “There is nothing between them. They do not speak. The Alpha treats her only as a guard should.”
And that was exactly what the Council wanted to hear.
Still, I caught the tail end of their message, the part that made my wolf bristle:
“Keep watching. Report everything. The King’s allies are waiting for the slightest excuse to finish Alpha Gregor.”
Great. Wonderful. Perfect.
So not only was I pretending to be Margaux, hiding from rogues, and dodging political knives, but now I had to live under the same roof as an Alpha who kissed like he’d been born for me—while the entire royal council waited for him to slip, just once, so they could gut him.
And to top it off?
Sugar smirked over her teacup at me during lunch and stage-whispered, “He’s staring at your lips again.”
Hell.
Few days later?
The King’s idea of “honoring” me after an assassination attempt was apparently to throw me into the deadliest social circus on the continent: a royal banquet. A sea of teeth behind smiles, silks that smelled like poison, and wolves from every corner who’d rather chew each other’s throats out than toast politely.
Oh, and the Wolfgang Pack was invited. Because why not? Let’s poke the hornet’s nest.
I stood in my chamber while Sugar fussed over my hair like she was sculpting a national treasure, and Gregor leaned in the doorway like some medieval gargoyle—broad-shouldered, gray pants, shirt rolled at the sleeves, arms crossed as though he was personally at war with my existence.
“You’re scowling again,” I said, examining the jeweled comb in my hair. “What’s the problem? Too shiny? Too Margaux?”
“You don’t understand the danger of tonight.” His voice was flat, iron. His wolf lurked close, pacing.
“Correction: I understand just fine. The danger is you glowering so hard the Wolfgangs think you’re about to eat them before the soup arrives.”
His jaw flexed. Then, traitorously, he moved. Came closer. And before my sass could arm itself again, his big, callused hands were at my neck fastening the thin chain of Margaux’s borrowed necklace. His fingers brushed my pulse. My knees turned into morally questionable jelly.
“Careful, Alpha,” I whispered, because sass was the only shield I had. “I bite.”
The necklace clicked shut. He leaned in, so close his breath stirred my hair, and murmured back: “So do I.”
The banquet hall glowed like a trap. Gold chandeliers, red carpets, polished marble—all the prettiest cage bars money could buy. Wolves from half a dozen packs filled the chamber, and when the Wolfgang delegation arrived, you could feel the temperature drop. Their Alpha walked like thunder contained, grief and rage braided into every step.
I sat at the prince’s side, Sugar behind me with her fan snapping like a sword, and Alpha Gregor with his amazing armani suit, stationed close enough to make my skin prickle. He was famous for this anger issues among the alpha’s. But no one could deny how powerful he was. Richer than Croesus. And stupidly, unfairly gorgeous. We’re talking piercing eyes, sharp jawline, body sculpted like he walked straight out of an Olympian catalog. Basically, the man is walking proof that Greek gods got bored of Mount Olympus and decided to play bodyguard. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His eyes tracked every move like I was a candle about to be snuffed.
The toasts began. Honeyed words dripped. I clinked my goblet when required, but the air was thick enough to choke on.
Then one of the elder wolves—a Wolfgang cousin—rose. His voice was smooth but sharp, meant to cut:
“Strange, is it not? That Thunder Whiteland dies so suddenly. In Alpha Gregor’s charge, no less. Too convenient, if you ask me.”
The hall hushed.
Alpha Gregor didn’t flinch. He just said, in that gravel-deep way that vibrated through my spine:
“He tried to drug and abduct the future princess. I ended it.”
Gasps. Murmurs. The King’s eyes glittered like a blade unsheathed, daring anyone to contradict.
But before politics could finish sharpening itself—chaos erupted.