Chapter 79 Mine - Amelia’s POV
I moved back into the protective circle of Aleksandr's arms, savouring the warmth of his body against mine. The ballroom still buzzed with shock and whispers, but within his embrace, those voices faded to insignificance. Kaela hummed contentedly in my mind, her presence stronger and clearer than ever before. No longer separate, no longer trapped—we were finally whole, finally one. The sensation was dizzying, exhilarating. I'd spent my entire life feeling like a puzzle with missing pieces, and now, finally, everything fit together.
Aleksandr's lips brushed against my temple, his breath warm against my skin. "Kaela's beautiful," he murmured, his voice low enough for only me to hear. "Even more so in person."
A giggle escaped me, part giddy exhaustion, part genuine amusement at my wolf's reaction. "Kaela is very smug that you think so," I replied, feeling her preen with satisfaction in our shared mind. "She wants you to know she's never doubted you were our mate."
'Not like some people,' Kaela added with a mental nudge that was half-teasing, half-accusation. 'I knew from the moment we met him.'
'You could have been clearer about it,' I shot back, though without any real heat. 'Instead of just pushing me at him and saying "Pretty alpha, go touch."'
Aleksandr chuckled, clearly catching some echo of our internal conversation through our newly strengthened bond. His hand smoothed down my back, fingers tracing the curve of my spine through his jacket. "And you? Did you doubt?"
"I hoped," I admitted, tilting my head to meet his gaze. "I hoped so much it scared me."
Nora appeared at our side, somehow having procured a thin leather belt from who-knows-where. "This might help with your... situation," she said with dry amusement, handing me the belt.
I accepted it gratefully, aware that while Aleksandr's jacket covered me to mid-thigh, it still threatened to gape open with every movement. With his help, I wrapped the belt around my waist, cinching the jacket closed. The improvised outfit was far from elegant, but it was better than the alternative.
"Not exactly traditional ballroom attire," I said, smoothing down the front of the jacket.
Aleksandr's eyes darkened as they swept over me. "You look perfect," he said, his voice dropping to that low register that sent shivers racing across my skin. "Every wolf in this room can see who you belong with."
The possessiveness in his tone should have bothered me—after years of being treated as property by the Frozen Mountain Pack—but instead, it filled me with warmth. This wasn't ownership; it was belonging. Two halves of the same whole.
"Dance with me?" he asked, holding out his hand.
I placed my palm against his, marveling at the contrast—his large, strong hand engulfing my smaller one. "I've never actually danced before," I confessed. "Not properly."
"Just follow my lead," he said, drawing me toward the centre of the ballroom.
The orchestra had resumed playing at some point, a gentle waltz that filled the space with delicate notes. The other guests had formed a loose circle around us, watching with expressions ranging from awe to envy to calculation. I ignored them all, focusing on Aleksandr's guiding hand at my waist, the gentle pressure that showed me where to step, how to turn.
We moved together as if we'd danced a thousand times before, my bare feet gliding across the polished marble. Kaela's newfound grace transferred to my movements, making me feel lighter, more confident in my own skin than I'd ever been.
"You're a natural," Aleksandr murmured, his eyes never leaving mine as we turned in perfect time to the music.
The moment was so perfect, so complete, I should have known it wouldn't last. From the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of honey-blonde hair and ice-blue silk—Elena Blackwater, moving toward us with the predatory grace of someone who had spent a lifetime manipulating social situations to her advantage.
She intercepted us at the edge of the dance floor, her perfect features arranged in an expression of concerned relief that might have fooled me once. "Amelia, dear," she said, her voice carrying just the right note of maternal worry. "I'm so glad you're okay."
I met her gaze steadily, no longer the frightened servant girl who had cowered in her basement for four years. Kaela growled low in our shared mind, memories of Elena's casual cruelty flashing between us—meals withheld, silver knives applied to skin, contempt in every glance.
A laugh escaped me, short and disbelieving. "You aren't though, Elena, are you?" I said, watching her false concern curdle into something harder, colder.
"I don't know what you mean," she replied, her smile tightening at the edges. "We've been so worried since your... disappearance."
"Spare me," I said, surprised by the steadiness of my own voice. "You've spent years telling everyone I was wolfless, cursed. You called me a mistake, a burden. And now here I stand—mate to the Alpha King, with a wolf larger than any in your pack. So no, Elena, you're not glad I'm okay. You're terrified of what I've become."
Her face flushed with anger, the mask of concern dropping away entirely. "You ungrateful little—"
I turned my back on her, cutting off whatever venom she was about to spew. Taking Aleksandr's hand, I led him away from her, each step deliberate and unhurried. Behind us, I heard Elena's indignant gasp, followed by the hushed whispers of nearby guests.
"That," Aleksandr said when we were safely across the ballroom, "was magnificent."
I stifled a yawn, the adrenaline of the night finally beginning to ebb, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion. Five days of drugged captivity followed by my first shift had drained me more thoroughly than I'd realised.
Aleksandr noticed immediately, his arm tightening around my waist to support me. "Shall we call it a night, my Queen?" he asked, his eyes soft with concern.
I nodded gratefully. "Please."
Without another word, he guided me from the ballroom, his body shielding mine from curious stares and whispered comments. We moved through corridors I barely registered, my focus narrowing to the steady strength of his arm around me, the solid warmth of his body beside mine.
Halfway to my rooms, I stopped suddenly, a thought crystallising in my tired mind. "Can I stay with you?" I asked, looking up at him. "I don't want to go back to a room I know people snooped around in."
His expression softened, something tender and protective replacing the fierce authority he showed the rest of the world. "Of course," he said, squeezing my hand gently before changing our direction.
His suite was exactly as I remembered it from the few times I'd visited—spacious and elegant, but masculine in its dark furnishings and simple lines. He led me to the bedroom, where he helped me remove the makeshift belt and his jacket, replacing them with one of his t-shirts. The soft fabric fell to my knees, enveloping me in his scent.
"I can sleep on the sofa if you'd be more comfortable," he offered, hesitation in his voice for perhaps the first time since I'd known him.
I rolled my eyes, newfound confidence allowing me to reach for what I truly wanted. "Shut up and hold me tonight," I said, exhaustion making me blunter than I might otherwise have been.
He chuckled, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. "Of course, my Queen," he replied, the title no longer ceremonial but intimate, a private acknowledgment of what we were to each other.
As I crawled into his massive bed, feeling the cool sheets against my bare legs, I reflected on how much had changed in a single night. I had shifted for the first time. I had saved my mate from those who would destroy him. I had confronted Elena without flinching.
But most importantly, I had finally, truly found where I belonged.