Chapter 98
Chapter 98
I wake up to sunlight and the smell of dried paint.
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For a second–just one blissful, stupid second–I forget everything. Forget the plan. Forget the betrayal. Forget that I’m supposed to be ghost–walking my way out of this pack in less than a week.
All I know is warmth and the steady rise and fall of Alaric’s chest beneath
my
cheek.
We’re still in the art studio, somehow squeezed together on this couch that’s definitely not meant for two full–grown people to sleep on. My legs are tangled with his, one of his arms is wrapped possessively around my waist, and we’re both covered in dried maroon paint like some kind of fucked–up modern art installation.
Exhibit A, The Last Night Before Everything Goes to Shit.
I shift slightly, propping myself up on one elbow to look at him properly.
And fuck me, he’s
gorgeous.
The morning sun streams through those massive windows, hitting him at an angle that makes him look like something out of a Renaissance painting. His dark hair is a mess–my fault, definitely my fault–and there are streaks of paint across his jaw, his neck, his bare chest. His face is relaxed in sleep, all those sharp edges softened into something almost boyish.
Almost innocent.
Except there’s nothing innocent about this man. Nothing innocent about what we did last night on that desk, on this couch, against that wall over there-
Stop it. Stop reminiscing like some lovesick idiot. You’re leaving. Remember?
But I can’t help myself. I reach out, tracing the line of his jaw with my fingertips, committing every detail to memory. The small scar above his left eyebrow. The way his lashes are longer than they have any right to be. Th exact shade of his skin in morning light.
This is the man who killed my father.
This is the man I love.
This is the man I’m going to destroy.
A knock at the door shatters the moment.
I jerk my hand back like I’ve been burned, heart suddenly hammering in my chest.
Before I can even process it, Alaric’s hand shoots out and captures mine, pressing it firmly back against his cheek. His eyes are still closed, but there’s a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
“Who told you to stop?” His voice is rough with sleep, dark and commanding even half–conscious.
“You’re awake, you sneaky bastard.”
“Mmm.” He turns his head to press a kiss to my palm. “Been awake for a while. Watching you watch me.”
That’s creepy as hell.”
That’s love, darling
The knuck comes again, inore insistent this time, followed by a voice I recognize as one of Alaric’s guards.
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Chapter 98
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“Alpha. The representative from the Thornback Pack has arrived. They’re ready to escort you to their territory.”
Reality crashes back in with all the subtlety of a freight train.
Right. The war. The attack on the smaller pack. The week–long absence that’s going to give me the perfect window to execute my plan and disappear forever.
Alaric’s entire body tenses, and he pulls me closer, burying his face in my neck. “Tell them to fuck off.”
“Alaric-”
“I don’t want to go.” His voice is muffled against my skin, and there’s something almost childish about the petulance in it. “I want to stay here. With you. In this room. Forever.”
My heart does this stupid clenching thing that I absolutely do not have time for.
“You can’t,” I say gently, running my fingers through his hair. “You’re the Alpha King. Your pack needs you. That smaller pack needs you. People are dying, baby.”
“Let Cassian handle it.”
“Cassian isn’t the King. And he’s just an envoy for Goddess sake.”
“He could be.” Alaric’s hands slide up my sides possessively. “Just for a week. Just this once.”
“And what would you do instead? Hide in an art studio with me while your territory burns?”
He pulls back to look at me, and there’s something raw and desperate in his amber eyes. “Would that be so bad?”
Yes, I want to say. Yes, because every second you stay is another second I have to look at your face and remember that you’re the reason my father is dead. Every second you stay is another second I might change my mind. Might choose you over justice. Might let love win over everything I know is right.
But I can’t say any of that.
So instead, I cup his face in both hands and kiss him. Soft at first, then deeper, pouring every complicated feeling I can’t voice into the press of my lips against his.
When I pull back, I make my voice firm. “You need to go. You need to show them who you are. Show them why no one fucks with the Imperial Pack.” I stroke his cheek with my thumb. “And then you come back to me. Victorious. Covered in glory and probably blood because you’re dramatic like that.”
A small smile tugs at his lips. “You’re really not going to let me stay, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Even if I beg?”
“Especially if you beg. I don’t need you getting soft on me, Alpha King.”
He laughs–actually laughs–and the sound fills something hollow inside me that I didn’t know was empty.
“Fine,” he concedes, pressing his forehead to mine. “But you’re going to regret this when I come back and don’t let you out
of our bed for a week.”
I won’t be here when you come back.
“I’ll hold you to that,” I lie.
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Chapter 98
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We somehow manage to untangle ourselves from the couch and locate our clothes–or what’s left of them. My shirt is ripped beyond repair, there’s paint on everything, and I’m pretty sure we destroyed that desk in a way that’s going to raise some serious questions when the cleaning staff finds it.
Alaric pulls on his pants, and I watch shamelessly because if this is the last time I get to see him half–naked in morning light, I’m going to fucking savor it.
He catches me staring and grins. “See something you like?”
“Just thinking about how you’re going to have to explain those scratches on your back to Cassian.”
He glances over his shoulder at me, eyes darkening. “You marked me.”
“You marked me first.” I gesture to the hickeys that are definitely still visible on my neck, my collarbone, places that are decidedly not family–friendly.
“And I’ll do it again the second I get back.”
No, you won’t. Because I’ll be gone. Because you’ll be mourning a corpse that isn’t me while I’m halfway across the country, starting over, becoming someone else entirely.
Before I can spiral further into that delightful thought, there’s another knock.
“Come in,” Alaric calls, now fully dressed and looking every inch the Alpha King despite the paint still visible on his skin.
The door opens, and Cassian walks in with Beta Cole, stoic as hell.
He takes one look at the state of the room–the overturned desk, the paint everywhere, the couch that looks like it’s been through a war–and his expression doesn’t change at all.
“Having a productive evening, I see,” he says dryly.
“Fuck off, you envoy,” Alaric replies without heat.
“The representatives are getting impatient. We should leave within the hour if we want to make it to Thornback territory before nightfall.” Cassian’s eyes flick to me, and there’s something knowing in his gaze that makes me want to squirm. “Are you ready, my King?”
Alaric looks at me, and for a moment, I see te indecision written all over his face.
I nod. Give him the most reassuring smile I can manage. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
“We still need to-” He stops, glances at Cassian, then back to me. “Are you ready?”
It takes me a second to remember. Right. The thing we talked about last night between kisses and paint and promises I’m not going to keep.
Meeting his warriors, the primitives.
The warriors who live in the underground caves, who fight Alaric’s wars, who are loyal to strength and dominance and absolutely nothing else.
Yeah, I say, with way more confidence than I feel. “I can handle it.”
Alaric studies me for a long moment, then nods. “Cassian, give us ten minutes. Then we’ll head down.”
Cassian leaves, and Alaric pulls me against him one more time. Kisses me like he’s trying to memorize the taste of me. Like maybe some part of him knows this is goodbye.
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Chapter 98
DJ
When he finally lets me go, I’m breathless and aching and absolutely certain I’m making the right choice.
Even if it feels like ripping my own heart out.
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Tully arrives not five minutes after Alaric leaves to get ready, carrying what I can only describe as a piece of clothing that exists purely to give my mother a heart attack if she were still alive.
“What the fuck is that?” I stare at the scrap of fabric in her hands.
“Your outfit!” She beams at me like she’s presenting the crown jewels. “For meeting the primitives. Alaric had it specially made.”
Of course he did.
The dress–if you can even call it that—is ritualistic in the way that ancient sacrificial ceremonies probably were. Deep crimson fabric with a plunging neckline that goes approximately to my navel. Slits on both sides that rise higher than anything I’ve ever worn in public. Gold threading along the edges that catches the light.
It’s beautiful.
It’s also designed to make me look like I’m one good gust of wind away from complete nudity.
“Tully, I can’t wear this.”
“You can and you will.” She shoves it at me with zero sympathy. “The primitives don’t respond to subtle, Sorin. They need to see that you’re the King’s woman. That you’re claimed. That you’re-”
“A glorified sex object?”
“Powerful enough to own it,” she corrects. “There’s a difference. Now put it on before Alaric comes back and decides to keep you in this studio forever.”
If only.
I take the dress and head behind a divider to change, trying not to think too hard about what I’m about to do. About walking into a den of primitive wolves who probably eat people who show weakness for breakfast.
The dress fits like it was painted on. Which, given the amount of actual paint still on my skin, creates an interesting aesthetic.
I look at myself in the full–length mirror and barely recognize the woman staring back.
She looks dangerous. Feral. Like something that bites.
“Damn,” Tully whistles from the doorway. “You look-”
“Like a whore?”
“Like a queen.” She grins. “A scary, hot, don’t–fuck–with–me queen/The primitives are going to lose their minds.”
“Or they’re going to literally lose their minds and try to kill me.”
“That too. Here.” She hands me a long, dark robe. “To cover up until you get there. Build the suspense, you know?”
I slip the robe on gratefully, hiding the dress beneath layers of fabric that make me feel slightly less naked.
Alaric returns minutes later, dressed for war in black combat gear that makes him look like death incarnate. His eyes sweep over me, and even through the robe, I can feel the heat of his gaze.
10:49 Wed, Jan 21
Chapter 98
“Ready?” he asks.
“As I’ll ever be.”
He takes my hand, and we leave the sanctuary of the art studio behind.
田
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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.