Page 56 of Alpha's Exiled Mate

Perock gave a faint smile, as if seeing through my pretense. “Yes, very strict. In his eyes, I was never good enough, never strong enough, never ruthless enough. And it was that very pressure that shaped the arrogant, self-absorbed person I was five years ago.”

His candor caught me off guard. Five years ago, Perock would never have so openly admitted his flaws.

We rode into an open meadow, and Perock signaled to stop. The view here was breathtaking, with rolling mountains in the distance and a field of blooming wildflowers nearby.

“This place is beautiful,” I said sincerely, dismounting from my horse.

“Yes, it is. Spring is the most beautiful season here,” Perock replied, also dismounting and casually tying the reins. “Everything comes back to life, starting anew.”

There was a hint of deeper meaning in his words, but I pretended to be absorbed in the scenery, choosing not to respond.

“Lilia,” Perock called my name softly, “I know you don’t want to talk about the past, but please allow me to say what needs to be said.”

I turned to face him, forcing myself to stay composed. “If it’s about the terms of the alliance, I’d happy to listen.”

“It’s not about the alliance,” he shook his head, a hint of pleading in his eyes. “It’s about us. About the mistakes I made five years ago.”

I took a deep breath. “Perock, I’ve already said—”

“Please, let me finish,” he interrupted, urgency in his voice, the sunlight igniting a warm flame in his amber eyes. “Five years ago, I was a fool, blinded by power and arrogance. I didn’tcherish the gift fate had given me until the moment I lost it. Only then did I realize how precious it was.”

I bit my lower lip, struggling to suppress the emotions stirring within me. His words were like a gentle rain, slowly seeping into the walls I’d built around my heart, trying to soften the parts hardened by pain.

“When I felt the bond break,” Perock continued, his voice trembling slightly, “my world felt like it collapsed. That pain… it’s indescribable. That’s when I truly understood what loss meant.”

His honesty sent ripples through my heart, but I couldn’t let myself be swayed so easily. “If you truly valued that bond, why did you hurt me like that?”

Bringing it up, the pain I’d buried deep resurfaced. I remembered the feeling of abandonment, the despair of being alone while everyone surrounded Sophia.

Perock’s expression turned pained. “I won’t make excuses for myself, Lilia. Back then, I was trapped by the shadows of my past, blinded by an obsession with Sophia. I thought I loved her, but it wasn’t love—just a habitual attachment, a prideful refusal to let go.”

He shook his head slightly, his eyes filled with regret. “True love should be about cherishing and protecting, not possessing and controlling. That’s a lesson I only learned after losing you.”

My heart began to waver.

“How have you been these past five years?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Perock gave a faint smile, though his eyes were tinged with bitterness. “Ruling a kingdom, handling affairs, facing threats. On the surface, I’m a successful king, but deep down, I’ve always felt empty.”

He looked off into the distance. “I haven’t been close to any woman, Lilia. And Viossi is merely a figurehead.”

“You know,” Perock said suddenly, a hint of nostalgia in his tone, “I’ve always remembered the honey cake you made for me. It was the first time in my life I received a gift made with such genuine care.”

My heart jolted. He still remembered that cake.

Perock’s voice was low and heavy. “From the time I can remember, my father forbade me from celebrating my birthday. In his eyes, my birth took my mother’s life, and it was nothing worth celebrating.”

A flicker of vulnerability passed through his eyes. “But you remembered my birthday. Not only did you remember, but you also made a cake for me with your own hands. In that moment, I felt a care I had never experienced before—so real, so… warm.”

I remembered that day vividly. I had learned to bake a cake in the kitchen, failing twice before finally getting it right. When I presented it to him, the surprise on his face, the rare… vulnerability, was unforgettable.

“And that time in the garden when you prayed for me,” Perock continued, “praying that I would live a long life, that I could break the curse. No one had ever done that for me, Lilia. Before you, everyone only cared about whether I could produce an heir, whether I could continue the royal bloodline. Only you… only you cared about me as a person.”

So, it wasn’t my imagination that day—someone really had been there.

My heart softened uncontrollably. Those memories were so vivid—the prayer under the moonlight, the scent of honey cake, the rare tenderness in his eyes.

Back then, I genuinely cared for him, not because of politics or status, but simply because my wolf recognized its mate.