Chapter 55
Chapter 55
Five hours, a castle, and a whole lot of political bullshit. Bring. It. On.
I’m fucked. Absolutely fucked.
I inhale sharply, willing myself to settle the nerves twisting my stomach into knots.
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Moonrise is hours away, and every second counts. Five hours. That’s all I’ve got. Five hours to turn this castle into a palace worthy of impressing a pack envoy. Who even is this Beta Cassian- I’m doing it without anyone holding my hand.
I straighten my spine, brushing invisible dust off my shoulders. “Alright,” I say, voice sharp, low enough to cut through the hum of anxious servants. “Let’s get to work.” My heels click on marble as I pivot toward the nearest exit.
Marg and Tully fall in step beside me, eyes wide but bright. They know what’s coming – so does every Omega who’s going to help me.
I inhale again, steadying the whirl of thoughts. I’ve faced worse. I’ve survived worse. These wrinkled bastards don’t scare me.
I pull out my phone and dial Marg. “Get every piece of decor we’ve got. I don’t care if it’s been shoved in the storage dungeon since the last full moon–get it. All of it p>
Marg’s voice is firm as she smirks at me. “Yes, Luna. Right away p>
I turn to Tully. “You’re rounding up the Omegas. Every single one who can lift a chair or hold a candelabra. We’re going full assault. Understand p>
“Yes, Sorin,” she replies with a smile, “We’ll be ready p>
Good. No excuses. No delays.
Alaric finally stands up from the conference table and into the doorway, that impossible, illegal heat radiating off him like he owns the air around him–which, technically, he does. His amber–gold eyes track me with
amusement.
What now?
He raises a hand like he’s about to offer help.
I whip my gaze at him, sniping before he can even speak. “Do not. Do. Anything.” The words are venom–laced with pride. I don’t want anyone with power backing me up. No Alaric halo effect. If I’m going down, I’m going down on my own terms.
I can’t have him pull me up the ladder.
His brow quirks. “You sure about that p>
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Chapter 55
I smirk, only slightly. “Are you underestimating me, Your Highness? ”
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Gerda appears just then, bowing stiffly. “The elders are meeting the envoy at the borders. They should arrive by eight p>
I glance at the wall clock. Four hours and fifty–seven minutes to make this place look like a palace rather than a fortress. My teeth grind together. Perfect. Perfectly miserable.
“Marg,” I bark as she comes back, already moving toward the storage wing, “start hauling everything. Candles, tablecloths, tapestries, flowers–whatever looks regal and not like a funeral parlor p>
“On it, Sorin,” she says, and she’s off like a shadow.
“Tully,” I continue, striding toward the staircase where the rest of the Omegas are milling about. “Get the Omegas in here. I want tables, chairs, everything moved, positioned, aligned. Move fast p>
She’s nodding before I even finish speaking, gathering the Omegas as a general marshaling her troops.
I roll my sleeves up, forcing every ounce of control into my limbs. First the floor layout, then the long banquet tables, then–oh, hell–flowers. Someone had to deal with flowers, and today, that someone was me.
As I heft a crate of roses, I hear Alaric’s low voice behind me.
“You’re going to make a good queen,” he murmurs, leaning on the doorway, arms crossed, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Dangerous, teasing, and somehow so fucking hot I nearly drop the roses.
I tilt my head back at him, letting the sharp edge in my voice come out. “Watch yourself, or I’ll remind you a King is not supposed to be gaping like an idiot p>
The Omegas giggle behind me. Typical. They’ve got front–row seats to my sparring with him. From their squeaks and suppressed laughter, I know my feisty spark hasn’t dimmed in the least.
This is definitely what Camilla has been missing as the placeholder Luna.
Alaric chuckles lightly. He doesn’t move closer, or he doesn’t need to. His presence alone drags heat under my skin. “I like that fire. Don’t lose it, darling p>
“I plan to burn the whole castle down if I have to,” I whisper back, just loud enough for him to hear, letting my voice roll low and sharp in his ear. My pulse is thrumming from the exertion, from the rush of command, from him.
I catch the way his eyes darken, how the sharp edges of his smile turn just a touch more dangerous. Perfect.
From the corner of my eye, I notice movement in the garden outside. Camila. Of course she’s here. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her since the ritual.
My lips press together. Fuck her. Let her watch.
I pivot sharply on my heel, planting my hands on Alaric’s chest as if I could pin him to the doorway right
there. His smirk falters for just a fraction of a second. Good. I drag him closer by the collar of his shirt, slow enough that the Omegas and even Camila can see it all.
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Chapter 55
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The look on Camila’s face is priceless–her eyes widen, lips part slightly, and for a fleeting moment, I allow myself the tiniest grin.
Yes. Look at me, bitch. This is how it’s done.
Alaric doesn’t even hesitate. His hand snakes around my waist, holding me tight, his amber–gold eyes boring into mine, and then–then I close the space between us. My lips find his, just a quick, sharp kiss, enough for Camila to see, enough to make her choke on whatever superiority she thought she had.
The room seems to shudder around us. Omegas are trying not to giggle. Marg is frozen mid–step, Tully’s mouth is hanging open, and the hum of activity slows for just a beat. The castle is ours for this moment, and I like it.
Until this bastard ruins everything.
Alaric’s smirk deepens against my lips, and I feel the sharp heat in his chest, the weight of him pressing against me. Then he leans, just a fraction, and suddenly the kiss wants to deepen. My control evaporates like smoke as I feel his bulge on my stomach.
Shit, he’s gonna lose it.
“Alaric!” I snap, yanking back, heart hammering, hands fisted against his broad chest. “No. Not now p>
He huffs, low and amused, the sound vibrating against my chest. “Not now?” he teases, voice dangerously raspy. “Then are we fucking later p>
I roll my eyes as the crimson tint rush up my face, pushing him gently but firmly away, and he stumbles back just enough for me to catch my breath, although his heat lingers in the air.
“S–shut up.” I murmur.
He grins, wicked and knowing, but doesn’t argue. That’s Alaric’s way of conceding–he’ll play until the moment is truly his, until I let him.
I spin back to Marg and Tully. “Tables here. Candelabras there. Candles lit last. Flowers by the windows. Tapestries hung high. Move, people, move p>
Omegas scurry, hands moving like they’re possessed by adrenaline and panic. I bark out orders, moving faster than I have in years, lifting, arranging, shifting. Marg’s hauling heavy crates, Tully corralling chaos into order, and me–I’m the conductor of this fucking symphony of chaos.
Ah, it’s been a while.
Every step I take is precise, every instruction measured.
My body aches already, but my mind is sharp, slicing through the mess like a knife. I adjust a candlestick, then a vase, then a folded napkin. My heart is hammering, but in this moment, I’m alive. I’m unstoppable.
I’m Sorin.
Alaric watches, leaning just enough so that he doesn’t interfere, but enough to let me feel the weight of those bloody gaze on my back.
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Chapter 55
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I sense him, the way he’s always sensing me, reading me, always a step behind my madness but fully aware of it. He’s dangerous, in a way that makes me want to scream and purr at the same time.
I move to the center table, dragging a heavy floral arrangement across polished marble. My biceps burn, my back protests, but I don’t stop. My mind flashes briefly to the elders, to their smug little faces, to the game they think they’re playing. They have no idea.
“More chairs over here! Tully, fold those napkins tighter! Marg, please, those garlands are not straight!” I bark, moving like a hurricane.
A soft chuckle brushes the back of my neck. Alaric. I glance over my shoulder. His smirk is lazy but wicked. I lift a chair, toss it into place, and glare at him over my shoulder. “I swear, if you touch a single thing- ”
He shrugs. “I’ll behave. Mostly p>
“Mostly?” I snort, shaking my head. “That’s comforting. Really p>
Tully’s huffing, dragging in yet another crate of candles. “Sorin, do you think p>
“No, that color is awful. Try the gold ones.” I cut her off mid–step, snapping my fingers.
I don’t wait for her to argue. I’m already hauling in velvet table runners, arranging silverware like a drill sergeant on speed, and placing candles with enough precision to make a surgeon jealous.
The room smells of polished wood, wax, and roses–and sweat, mine and theirs–and somehow, it feels like victory.
Alaric shifts in the doorway again, that smirk curling like he’s enjoying a private joke. “You’re something else, you know that?” I snort without turning.
I spin on my heel and stride toward the kitchens, adrenaline still high. The smell of roasting meats, fresh bread, and simmering sauces hits me, grounding me for a moment in reality. I duck past a servant carrying a tray of steaming soup and catch the movement of one of Camila’s personal Omegas–Rosaline–fiddling with one of the dishes.
I freeze mid–step. Rosaline? Helping?
Did Camilla put her up to this?
She catches my gaze and shrugs, a small, sheepish smile tugging at her lips. “I just… wanted to help p>
I blink at her. My first thought is skepticism–her loyalty has always been to Camila, her master, who hates me more than anything right now.
But there’s sincerity in the tilt of her head, a quiet determination that reminds me a little of Marg. I nod slowly, allowing myself a tiny, surprised smile. “Well… good. I appreciate it p>
She straightens, her hands steadying the pot she’s working on, and I move on, shaking my head faintly. Maybe people aren’t all idiots. Or maybe I’m just desperate for allies.
Back in the hall, the clock is cruelly ticking down. I check the time–moonrise approaches faster than I like. A
12:17 Sun, Jan 11
Chapter 55
distant horn blares from the gates.
The envoy has arrived.
Oh shit.
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My chest tightens. My stomach is a knot of nerves and anticipation. Every Omega freezes for just a heartbeat.
I glance over my shoulder. Alaric is behind me, casual, smirking, but there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes, the kind that makes you wonder if he’s more wolf than man right now. I drag him aside, whispering just loud enough for him to hear,
“Tonight? Don’t act like we’re together. Not a hint. Not a tease. Not a look. Understand p>
He arches a brow, amused, leaning down just slightly, until our faces are inches apart. “What?” he growls in
annoyance.
His lips twitch in that infuriatingly sexy way that makes me want to roll my eyes and punch him at the same
time.
I wave a hand at him sharply. “I said don’t. Just… stay out of the show, for now p>
He doesn’t answer but the annoyance from him smells like a predator pretending to be tame. I don’t need the reassurance of words–his eyes say enough.
I pivot and march toward the main entrance, heart hammering, boots echoing on polished marble. The massive doors loom in front of me, carved with symbols of Imperial Pack strength. I pause, inhale, and then signal the guards.
“Open the gates. The envoy is here p>
Alright, let’s see who this man is.
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Cedella
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.