POV Nathaniel
The reception blazed with calculated magnificence—strings soaring through vaulted ceilings, champagne flutes catching light like liquid diamonds, cameras hovering at angles meant to seem accidental.
I gripped my untouched champagne and watched Odette command the room without trying.
She wore midnight silk that turned her into starlight, her shoulders back, chin lifted with authority that made my wolf claw against my ribs.
Every move she made drew eyes, commanded attention, demanded acknowledgment. This was the princess I'd waited twenty-six years to find.
Devon shadowed her every step, his presence a deliberate claim that made my jaw clench hard enough to crack teeth.
"Which one's the husband?" Rex materialized at my shoulder, my oldest friend and head of royal security scanning the crowd with professional assessment.
"The one circling her like a starving dog." I nodded toward Devon. "Brown hair, gray suit that doesn't quite fit."
"That's the competition?" Rex's laugh held razor edges. "Christ, Nathaniel. He looks like he rented that suit. This is what you're losing sleep over?"
"Don't underestimate history. They had six years together—most of them happy before things fell apart."
"Happy?" Rex pulled out his phone, scrolling through data. "His pack is three bad harvests from dissolution. Border disputes with two neighbors, declining membership, and his council tried to force him into polygamy because his Luna couldn't produce heirs."
"I know all that."
"Then you know you could destroy him with one phone call. My team has enough intelligence to—"
"No." The word came out harder than intended. "That would only drive her away. She doesn't respond to force."
"Since when do you care about gentle approaches?"
"Since her." I watched Odette laugh at something Magnus said, the sound cutting through the orchestra and conversation to strike me directly. "The hospital report—did you get it?"
Rex slipped a small drive into my palm. "As requested, I didn't look. Though I'm curious why you need her medical records."
"She's been having episodes. Pain. She went to see Dr. Brennan but won't tell me why."
"Maybe she's sick."
"She's not sick." I pocketed the drive, its weight burning against my ribs. "She's hiding something."
"From you specifically?"
"From everyone."
The master of ceremonies struck his staff against marble three times. "Lords and ladies, we call for the dedication dance—a tradition to honor the return of our lost princess!"
Devon moved before the announcement finished, claiming Odette's hand with the confidence of ownership. She accepted, letting him lead her to the floor's center while the crowd formed an appreciative circle.
"He wasn't announced as her husband," Rex observed. "Interesting omission."
"Magnus knows she can't belong to Devon. Not with our betrothal contract."
"Then why not announce you?"
"Because the King doesn't trust me yet. Thinks I'll use her as political leverage against him."
"Won't you?"
"Only a fool wouldn't consider it."
"But?" Rex pressed.
I watched Devon spin Odette through a complicated turn, his hand possessive on her waist. My wolf snarled, demanding I tear him apart for touching what was mine.
"But she's my mate." The admission ripped from my throat. "My fated mate. The Moon Goddess chose her for me."
"Fated?" Rex's eyebrows shot up. "You're certain?"
"My wolf knew the moment I saw her in that bar. Even before I knew she was Odette." I drained my champagne in one burning swallow. "Every instinct screams she's mine."
"Does she know?"
"She feels something. The connection is there, but she's fighting it."
"Because of him?"
"Because of history. Because of duty. Because she doesn't trust easily anymore."
The music shifted, tradition demanding partners change. I crossed the floor in measured strides, arriving at the precise moment protocol required.
"May I?" I didn't wait for Devon's response, taking Odette's hand as the formation turned.
Devon’s gaze sharpened, flinty and unmoving. "This isn't over."
"It never started," I replied smoothly, spinning Odette away before he could respond.
"That was rude," she said, but her eyes sparked with something that wasn't disapproval.
"That was necessary." I pulled her closer than the dance required. "You're absolutely astonishing tonight."
"Flattery, Alpha Nathaniel?"
"Truth, Princess Odette." My hand spread across her back, feeling heat through silk. "You command this room like you were born to it."
"I was, apparently."
"No." I spun her out, then back against me. "This is more than birthright. This is you—fierce and beautiful and absolutely magnetic."
"You're playing a dangerous game."
"I'm not playing at all." I lowered my voice, letting my thumb trace the inside of her wrist where her pulse raced. "If this room were empty, I'd show you exactly how serious I am. I'd push you against that marble pillar and remind you how your body responds to mine."
Her breath caught. "Nathaniel—"
"I'd kiss you until you forgot his name. Until you remembered what it felt like in that hotel room when you came apart in my hands." I spun her through another turn, using the movement to press our bodies together. "When you begged for more."
"Stop." But her fingers tightened in mine.
"I'd worship every inch of you right here on this floor if I could. Make you scream my name while everyone watched, so there'd be no question who you belong to."
"You can't just—"
"I can. I will." I dipped her slightly, my mouth near her ear. "The only question is when you'll stop fighting what we both know is inevitable."
"You promise things you can't deliver."
"I never promise anything I won't do, Princess. When you're ready to stop pretending Devon is what you want, I'll be waiting."
The music ended. I released her with deliberate slowness, my fingers trailing along her arm.
"Thank you for the dance." I bowed formally, playing the perfect courtier while my wolf howled for more. "Your husband looks anxious to reclaim you."
"He's not—"
She stopped herself.
"This isn't finished."
"No, it's just beginning." I stepped back, letting Devon rush forward to claim the next dance.