<b>Chapter </b><b>90 </b>
E
T
When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing hard. My head spun, heart pounded, every nerve ending tingling as if I’d just gripped a live wire in my bare hands.
“Delicious,” my wolf purred. And it was. I could have had a thousand of those kisses and never felt satisfied.
But as the cameras shed around us, I realized what I had done.
I’d kissed my husband. Passionately. In front of everyone.
My cheeks burned as I took in the sea of camera lenses pointed in our direction. Tomorrow<i>, </i>those photos would be all over social media.
Alexander straightened his tie and cleared his throat. “The mate bond,” he said quietly, as if reading the dumbfounded expression on my face. “It’s still new. Sometimes it can be… overwhelming, so I don’t me you.”
Of course. The mate bond. A biological reaction, nothing more. Alexander wasn’t kissing me back because he wanted to–he was just responding to the chemical pull between mates.
I felt like the biggest fool in the world.
“Right,” I managed, taking his outstretched hand and standing. “The bond.”
F
I needed some air.
Before Alexander could stop me, I forced a smile onto my face and turned, weaving my way through the crowd. There was a set of double des by rear of the banquet hall, which led out into arge and lush courtyard.
The moment I stepped outside, I felt like I could breathe again. The night air was cool against my heated skin<i>, </i>and I gulped it down gratefully. The courtyard was empty except for me, lit only by strings of fairy lights and the pale glow of the moon overhead.
I walked to the center of the garden and tilted my head back, staring up at the stars scattered across the dark sky like diamonds on a nket of ck
velvet.
Goddess, I was so tired of pretending.
Tired of smiling and ying the loving wife when Alexander didn’t feel the same way. Tired of making up romantic stories for strangers when the man i was married to saw our rtionship as nothing more than a business arrangement.
He was marked to me now. I was carrying his child. But he still couldn’t love me the way a husband should love his wife.
He couldn’t love me in the way I’d started to love him, despite my best efforts not to.
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” my wolf said gently. “The kiss meant something to him. I could feel it through the bond.”
“It was just biology. He said so himself.“”
“Males are idiots about feelings. Doesn’t mean they don’t have them.”
I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself. It didn’t matter what my wolf thought she’d sensed. Alexander had made his feelings clear. Even with a baby in my belly, we were still contracted to one another–we weren’t in love.
Which begged the question: did he still have intentions to marry Sophia as soon as he could? Did he love her in the same way she loved him, but remained bound to me because of politics and a fated mate bond that he never wanted?
Sure, we had made love once in our five years of marriage. Sure, I carried our child in my womb. And sure, he had marked me.
Chapter <b>90 </b>
But <b>what </b>did any of it mean?
<b>I </b>had always prided myself on my intelligence. When all else failed me, when my parents refused to let me continue training <b>and </b>relegated me to <b>the </b>position of housemaid, I still had my mind.
Even when I was ill, I still had my wit.
But now I just felt like a lovesick fool who didn’t know anything anymore. Maybe I had truly, finally been outsmarted by the universe itself.
“E?”
I turned to find Alexander standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed. “Are you alright?”
I tried to force another smile, but my lips trembled, giving it away immediately. “I’m sorry about that kiss. You’re right–the mate bond is overwhelming at times, and I was half asleep. I wasn’t thinking.”
Alexander studied my face in the moonlight. Instead of answering, he walked over to the rose bushes that lined the courtyard wall. He selected a pale pink flower and broke it off, careful to avoid the thorns.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he walked back to me.
Still without answering, he reached up and gently tucked the rose behind my ear, his fingers brushing against my cheek. “Dance with me
I stared at him in shock. “What?”
“There’s music inside. We can hear it perfectly well out here.” He held out his hand. “Dance with me,
E.”
I looked down at his outstretched hand, then back up at his face. This felt like a trap somehow. Another performance, perhaps for cameras hidden in
bushes.
But if there were no cameras… It didn’t make a damn lick of sense. Alexander wasn’t romantic with me when he didn’t have to be.
“Why?”
“Because I want to.” Alexander stepped closer. “And we haven’t had a chance to dance all night.”
My heart did something stupid and fluttery at his words, even though I knew better. This was just Alexander being charming, probably trying to make up for hurting my feelings earlier. But Goddess help me, I wanted <i>to </i>believe it was real.
“Okay,” I said softly, cing my hand in his.
Alexander pulled me closer, one hand settling on my waist while the other held mine. The music from inside the ballroom drifted out through the open doors, slow and romantic and perfect for a gentle waltz.
We moved together slowly, and I was surprised by how well we fit. Alexander was a good dancer, leading me through the steps with easy confidence. The rose in my hair released its sweet scent every time I moved, and the moonlight turned everything silver as if the Moon Goddess herself were shining her light upon us.
For a few minutes, I let myself pretend this was real. That Alexander had sought me out because he missed me, not because he felt guilty about something he’d said. That the tender way he was looking at me meant something more than political convenience.
I had so many questions I wanted to ask. About the contract. About whether he’d ever consider making our marriage real instead of just legal. About whether there was any chance he might actually fall in love with me someday.
But I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to ruin this moment, this brief glimpse into the fantasy I’d created earlier for those women at the party. The <b>story </b>where Alexander was a devoted husband who brought me flowers and whispered sweet things in my ear.
Maybe it was pathetic, but I wanted to live in that fairy tale for just a few more minutes. Even if it would disappear the second we got home.
And so I simply closed my eyes and let my head rest against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear. His arms tightened arouses me<b>, </b>holding me closer, and for a moment I could almost believe that this meant something to him.
We swayed together in silence, no longer really dancing but just holding each other under the moonlight.
This was what I’d always dreamed marriage would be like. Quiet moments, tender touches that meant everything and nothing all at once. The feeling of being safe in the arms of someone who loved me.
Eventually, however, just as all things must–it came to an end. The music slowed, then stopped, and our feet stopped swaying across the stone pavers.
“We should go,” Alexander said, stepping back and checking his watch. “It’ste.”
I nodded, honestly exhausted myself. The fantasy had been nice for a little while, at least. All in all, it had been a good night. Even if everything was fake, 1 had a feeling I would look back on this evening fondly.
When we finally pulled into the mansion’s driveway about an hourter, Alexander helped me out of the car like the perfect gentleman he’d been <b>all </b>evening. But as we walked through the front door, I could already feel him pulling away.
“You should go to bed,” he said, leaving me at the foot of the stairs. “I have some business to handle.”
And just like that, he turned and left me standing there, and the fantasy shattered the moment the clock struck midnight.
AD
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