Chapter 73 Growling - Aleksandr’s POV
And so the night progressed, a parade of dark-haired, slender women, each bearing some resemblance to the one person I actually wanted to see. Some had been instructed to use the same lavender and vanilla perfume Amelia favored. Others mimicked mannerisms I had seen in her – the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when nervous, the slight tilt of her head when listening intently.
With each introduction, each dance, Skoll's rejection grew more vehement, more enraged. 'NOT HER!' he howled after the fourth candidate, a girl who had been coached to use some of Amelia's speech patterns. 'AMELIA IS OURS! KAELA IS OURS! ONLY THEM!'
I felt my control fraying at the edges, my skin too tight, bones aching with the need to shift and hunt. To find what was mine. The curse fed on this rage, on this separation from the one who might have broken it. I excused myself from a particularly persistent candidate and made my way to a relatively quiet corner, where Nora stood watching the proceedings with ancient, calculating eyes.
"Anything?" I asked under my breath, accepting a glass of champagne I had no intention of drinking.
She shook her head slightly, her expression giving nothing away to any observers. "Nothing yet. But Victor has a new lead – a property registered under a shell corporation that might be tied to Blackthorn's family. They're looking into it now."
Hope flickered briefly before I ruthlessly suppressed it. We had followed too many false leads already.
"He's conspicuously absent tonight," I noted, my gaze sweeping the room again. "Kane claimed he was still ill."
"Convenient," Nora murmured. "Keep playing your part, Your Highness. The night is still young."
I nodded once, steeling myself to return to the charade. But as I turned, a scent caught my attention – familiar yet unwelcome, bringing with it memories of a basement cell and the gleam of a silver knife. I didn't need to look to know who approached; my body tensed instinctively, Skoll rising to the surface with a growl I barely managed to contain.
"Alpha King Aleksandr," came the honeyed voice of Elena Blackwater, Luna of the Frozen Mountain Pack. "What a magnificent celebration."
I turned slowly, maintaining rigid control as I faced the woman who had systematically abused Amelia for years. She was beautiful in a cold, sharp way – tall and elegant with honey-blonde hair and green eyes that held no warmth despite her smile.
'Enemies,' Skoll snarled. 'Hurt mate. Hurt Amelia.'
"Luna Elena," I acknowledged with a slight incline of my head. "I'm surprised to see representatives from Frozen Mountain in attendance."
"We wouldn't miss such an important event," Elena replied, her smile never reaching her eyes. "Besides, we were so sorry to hear about Amelia. Such a disappointment that she didn't... work out."
The calculated cruelty in her words made my hands clench at my sides, claws threatening to emerge. She knew exactly what she was doing, prodding at a wound she believed was raw and bleeding. If she only knew the truth – that Amelia hadn't left me, but had been taken – she might not be so bold.
"Thank you for your concern," I said, my voice a study in controlled indifference. "These things happen, unfortunately."
Elena's smile widened fractionally, clearly pleased by what she perceived as confirmation of Amelia's rejection. "Indeed they do. The girl was always... problematic. Never quite fit in, did she? Never quite belonged."
I could feel Skoll's rage building, matching my own rising fury. The curse stirred beneath my skin, feeding on these negative emotions, strengthening its hold. But I maintained my mask, my face betraying nothing of the violence I wanted to unleash upon this woman and her mate.
"Actually," Elena continued, seemingly oblivious to the danger she was courting, "we brought someone we thought you might find interesting. A much more suitable candidate than poor, wolfless Amelia."
She gestured to someone behind her, and a young woman stepped forward. My breath caught in my throat. The resemblance was uncanny – not just similar, but nearly identical. Dark hair falling in waves past her shoulders. Slim build, though healthier, more filled out than Amelia's malnutrition-marked frame. And her eyes – one green, one blue – stared up at me with practiced shyness.
'NOT HER!' Skoll howled, his rejection so violent I nearly staggered. 'FAKE! TRAP! NOT OUR MATE!'
"This is Serena," Elena said, watching my reaction with predatory interest. "My niece from my sister's side. She's just turned twenty-one and has the most remarkable resemblance to Amelia, doesn't she? But with a proper bloodline, of course. And a fully manifested wolf."