Page 20

RONAN

" I don't understand you anymore. It's like...talking to a wall that never dents. I can't seem to reach you," Tova whispers, her eyes red-rimmed.

She says that a lot lately, sounding like a damn broken record.

Before, her tendencies to burst into tears at the slightest events had only been mildly frustrating.

Now, it grated on every damned nerve, pissing me the fuck off.

Maybe it is the fact that the spies we had infiltrate Soren Winter's stronghold failed to mention the important detail of his little bride's pregnancy.

I had fancied myself to always be three steps ahead, but if the spies were sending back filtered information, it could only mean they've been found out.

What troubles me is how long. And if the missives I have received in the last few months are indeed correct.

It is the only reason I have accepted Tova's request to visit the North at a time like this. I must see for myself that his allies have indeed dwindled like the reports say, and my chances of wrestling the North from him and replacing him with someone more controllable still stands.

Usually, named heirs inherited the seats of Alpha or Head Alpha, but in the event that a rival proposes a duel and wins it, the seat is transferred, only when the heir is of age. Without heirs, successions were less complicated.

I could pride myself in my strength and sing praises of it like an oversized peacock, but I wasn't foolish enough to believe I could beat Winter in a duel. I tried once before, and the scar above my heart serves as a brutal reminder that I would be fucking dead if Winter wanted me dead.

It really was that simple.

Hence, the loophole. If the larger part of the council and elders considered the Head Alpha inappropriate for the job, there would be a unanimous vote to unseat him. It was the coward's way out, but I've never minded my methods, so long as I achieved my goal.

Tova moves closer, her hands trembling. She wants reassurance. An apology. Anything I'm incapable of giving. "Have you grown so tired of me that you avoid home?" she asks. "Or do you spend your nights in the bed of the woman you call out for in your dreams?"

I stiffen. The guards feign ignorance, but I'm well aware that they have heard.

"Now is hardly the time for your nagging, Tova," Mother chides harshly before I can respond, her face pinched with annoyance and pale from the cold she isn't quite used to.

"If you dedicated as much time to conceiving, maybe it would be your child's ceremony we attend tonight, not your savage cousin's. "

Tova flinches.

I exhale slowly, fighting back the sharp, ugly retort sitting on my tongue. Because Mother isn't wrong. It's nearly been a year. Month after month of calculated sex and precise timing, and still nothing.

The doctors say nothing is wrong, but the court whispers of these things, they speculate about my inability to sire a child, and even if I don't give a damn about their opinions, I know exactly how weakness spreads in a pack. Like blood in water.

Tova believes it is the reason I have grown distant, giving excuses of tedious responsibilities, duties and impromptu trips to get her off my back. Or to cheat, like she truly believes I have done. But it was far from that. And more.

In truth, her voice so close to my ears when I wake in the mornings makes me want to break something. Her touch and kisses feel wrong. Her scent isn't right, either. And sex felt like routine.

For a long while, the reason eluded me.

Until four months ago.

When I had awoken with one name on my lips, the scent of spice, smoke and the sensual femininity that lingered underneath, arousing and seducing.

Seraphina. I knew it would fucking hurt if she left, knew that the sacrifices I made to ensure we had a future together would drive her far from me.

But it was a gamble I couldn't help playing.

If she ran, I would catch her. If she screamed, I would gag her.

If she fought, I would bind her arms and legs until she had no strength left.

No one expected when looking at the slip of an Omega that she was wild as a boar and had blood that ran hotter than most. All of that rage and fire contained in that small body, held on a leash with a stunning amount of control that she never quite let slip. Not completely, anyway.

Seraphina fascinated me. Still fucking does.

Marrying Tova was a necessity. One I knew Seraphina wouldn't understand because of her narrowed thinking.

A union with her would have brought me nothing but disrespect and scorn.

I did nothing that didn't benefit me, nothing that didn't bring me more power.

There was no such future with Seraphina being my Luna.

But I did love her. And I was going to keep her. Because she was mine in a way that a man owned the breath in his lungs or the shadow that followed him everywhere.

I had never cared for much besides attaining more, besides the hunger and envy and greed that I kept trying to sate before I met her.

With Seraphina, it was a different kind of madness that distracted.

Two years felt like an eternity of knowing her, of letting her in farther than I ever let in anyone else, of letting her slip into the corners of my mind and build residence there.

Wealth, power, the high that came with attaining everything I wanted, it was all fleeting. Seraphina was as real as the blood in my veins. As the fire that burned through the marrows of my bones every time we collided. She owned me, in every sense of the word and I was going to fucking keep her.

And she ran from me.

She fucking ran, leaving me desolate. Raving mad in search for her.

Months. I looked for her for months. I was going to break her if I found her. Just as she broke me by forcing my hand into rejecting her.

But rejecting her was the only way to show her that I was all she had.

I expected the pain to break her as much as it did me, hurt her as much as the disgust in her eyes as I explained my truth to her did, as much as the sting in my cheek as she slapped me, as much as her wretched acceptance of my rejection.

Like I didn't fucking matter. Like I wasn't worth the hassle. Like I wasn't worth pleading for. Groveling for.

If you loved someone, you would do everything to keep them in your life, no?

I'd gotten her an apartment, fitting for the status of a mistress.

We would have been happy if her stupid ego didn't get in the way.

The pride of a nobody being bestowed more than anyone else would have deemed her worthy of.

And now, I am left with nothing but vivid fever dreams where she makes me alive with every touch, every breath, every whisper against my skin, against my cock. And gods do I fucking hate her for it.

Fingers wrapping around my arm jerk me back from a too vivid image of what Seraphina looks like in my bathtub and I fight the furious growl that climbs up my throat.

Tova holds tightly, the emerald on her ring finger catching a sliver of moonlight. It was a beautiful lie, much like our marriage. "I apologize for?—"

"You have nothing to apologize for," I say as softly as I can manage, stroking a thumb across her knuckles. "I'll take the rest of the week off. We've spent too little time together in the last few months."

Hazel eyes pop wide. "You will? You'll stay here for the rest of our visit? I thought you hated it here."

I do, but the confirmation I need cannot be attained in one day, over a short congratulatory visit. I need more time.

So I nod. Let her believe the words. Let her bask in the lie. It's so easy, pretending. Her arms come around me a second later, so fucking easy to please.

The mansion is as I remember it. Archaic in its taste, yet new and untouched. It was the first thing I'd wanted when I laid eyes on this place. And restructuring my mansion to fit it didn't quite do the beauty of it justice.

Eyes latch onto us—me—the moment we cross the threshold and they do not let up, even when we mingle with the crowd.

The hostility brings me warmth and pleasure. Knowing that they hate me enough to fear me. Power is power, after all, doesn't matter what kind.

The crowd is thicker at the front of the entrance hall, excitement and terse whispers filling the air as couple after couple presents their gifts to Soren's bride.

I'm not too eager to meet the woman, delving into the crowd in search of Axel and my Beta, Dean, while Tova and my mother mingle with the guests, chatting with a few familiar faces.

And Dean, my Beta. Dean isn't so difficult to find, not with the ridiculously shiny gift box in his grasp, courtesy of Tova.

"Axel's Beta reached out," he whispers in my right ear, careful of the curious glances and perked up ears around us. "Meeting here would be too risky. The Head Alpha's on the look out."

I did notice the absurd amount of guards manning the walls and entrance. It was almost as though he was expecting an attack. Or perhaps, it is true that he's grown overprotective of his son and wife, enough to see everyone here as a threat.

Curiosity rises and for a moment, I let myself glance toward the forefront of the growing crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of the woman who has been said to have stolen Soren's heart, because last I checked, he didn't fucking have one.

But all I catch glimpse of is the top of a dark-haired woman.

"Oh, you brought it, Dean," Tova says, reappearing in front of me and blocking my vision as she grabs the box. Holding it to her chest with one hand and steering me away from Dean with the other she says, "Come on, Ron. No work, remember?"

I let her lead me towards the forefront of the crowd that parts without effort.

I am brushing lint off the front of my suit as we reach the front when a familiar scent hits me. I'd pick it out anywhere, remember it like I remember what it felt like to kiss her the first time.

My eyes jerk up abruptly.