Chapter 4

Chapter 4 ~Valeria ~ Patting the wrinkles from my dress, I take a deep breath before entering the room. Crossing the threshold of the grand doors, I’m met with a scene straight out of a fairy‑tale ball. The room is magnificently decorated in whites and golds. A huge crystal chandelier hangs as the focal point, and people dance beneath it. Everyone looks like princes and princesses in their extravagant, ornate clothing. At the end of the room, a grand throne stands with a man seated upon it. The king… Behind him are six thrones. Three on the left, occupied by two women—one empty—and three more on the right, all filled by the princes, including him, the man I was fated to. I quickly avert my eyes and make a mental note never to look in that direction. Scanning the crowd, the first thing I see is Jade and her boy‑toy prince, frolicking. “Miss Valeria, there you are.” Ronan finds me. “Your father has been looking for you. Please come.” He leads me through the crowd to my mother and father. “Where the hell have you been?” Mother whispers, her voice still sharp. “I… had to use the restroom and got lost.” She grunts. “Straighten up and fix your hair. We’re about to meet the king.” I’m burning with anger at myself, ready to explode. I should never have left my room. Now I’ll have to be near him—exactly what I wanted to avoid. “Trust me, I’d rather you stayed hidden in a hole,” Mother says, noticing my expression, “but the king wants to meet everyone staying in his home.” With brisk, unkind hands, she twists me around and shoves me forward. I stumble, nearly falling, but manage to steady myself. “Jade, come.” Mother gently moves her between her and Father. They look like a family, while I’m left on the side, as if I weren’t even part of it. “Be on your best behavior,” Father mutters. Once in front of the king, we all bow our heads. “Alpha King, we are humbled to be in your presence.” “Rise, my High General, Alpha Albert of the Howlite Pack,” the king says. “You have a wonderful family.” His eyes linger on my mother first. I’d like to say she looks like a haggard witch, but she doesn’t. She’s beautiful—the very source of Jade’s looks. I, on the other hand, though not unpleasant to look at, share little of her beauty. I get distracted. I can feel his eyes on me. The prince. Don’t look at him… don’t look at him. I repeat it in my head, trying to resist the temptation. It’s torment knowing he’s staring at me. Prince Emmet strides to our side. “Father, allow me to introduce—this is Lady Jade Langford, of whom I spoke.” “Ah! I see. A pleasure,” the king sings. Jade smiles and bows. To my displeasure, the king turns to me. “And this is?” “This is… uhm…” Prince Emmet hesitates. “Uhm… her sister…” He doesn’t know my name. Why would he? “Valeria,” I mutter, looking away with irritation. “Hm… well, I welcome you all to my home. All of your needs will be met while you’re here. As for you, Alpha Albert, my men will inform you of our war council hours once we begin in two days’ time…” The conversation drifts into the dull matters of war, which I thought were meant for tomorrow. Emmet leads Jade away to the dance floor. Seeing no one bat an eye when she leaves, I slowly merge into the crowd and draw a deep breath. I did it. I beat temptation. “Valeria, was it?” No… I slowly turn. My insides ignite the moment I see him, ready to burst apart. He’s just inches away. His scent hits me like a brick wall, nearly knocking me off my feet. I crane my head up to meet those amazing blue eyes—so light they rival the sky. His bright blond hair is neatly slicked back, save for a single strand dangling near his eye. You’d think he’d look princely with that description, but it’s the opposite. His sharp features, his build, the way he dresses, and the ink visible on his fingers, neck, and—I can only imagine—elsewhere, make him look more like a Russian mafia boss. For a second, I wonder if I’m even at the right party. “We need to speak…” His voice… I swear my ovaries began to ovulate the moment he spoke. People nearby stare and whisper, but that’s the least of my concerns. “N—n—n,” I stutter, “no, we don’t.” Somehow, the words manage to come out. He takes a sharp, deep breath. “We do. It would be best if we did.” With eyes wide and body stiff as a mannequin, I slowly turn and walk away, ignoring him, forcing my hands together to keep them from shaking. He rejected me, and I accepted it, yet my body still acts like this. Why? Maybe rejection doesn’t matter when you’re fated. Still, that means nothing to me. He threw me away so easily, didn’t want me. So I don’t want him either. But I shouldn’t have to keep telling myself this over and over, yet I find myself doing just that. Lost in thought, I barely notice when a strange man speaks, his hand extended toward me. Instinctively, I take it, though I have no idea why. His words wash over me, lost to the haze; my mind is elsewhere. And then, before I can catch my breath, I’m twirled into the middle of the dance floor. I don’t even know what I’m doing! I can’t dance! The man seems to realize. He pulls me closer, holding me tight, and whispers in my ear, “Let me lead. You’ll be fine.” Who the hell is this man? I glance at him—light caramel skin, wavy brown hair, and striking brown eyes. He’s pleasant to look at, though young, about my age. “Stephan,” he whispers in my ear. “Just follow my lead.” Suddenly, I feel grounded again. The chandeliers glitter above as the music swells, and I’m swept into motion. His hand steadies mine, firm yet gentle, guiding me across the polished floor. I let him take control, my movements falling into his rhythm. When the dance finishes, Stephan leads me to where the crowd borders the dance floor, but he doesn’t let me go. He sticks to me like glue and whispers in my ear, “Thank you for trusting me to lead, Valeria.” “How did you know my name?” “You don’t remember me, do you?” He smiles, and it’s a beautiful smile. “Remember? Sorry, I don’t.” “It’s quite all right. We met when we were children, so it makes sense.” I pull away from him, racking my head, trying to remember, but I can’t. I don’t recall his name or his face. “It’s best this way. I wasn’t a nice kid back then.” He chuckles, and I offer an awkward smile. Before I can ask him anything, he takes my hand again and kisses it. “It was a pleasure. I hope we may dance again.” Just like that, he’s gone. Suddenly, I sense impending doom. Through the crowd, I catch eyes locked on me. Raphael. Even his name sends chills down my spine. He starts toward me, and I turn away, moving in the opposite direction. When I glance back, he stands there, squinting at me. He steps forward, eyes fixed on mine, and I instinctively step back. This isn’t a game to me, but fine—I’ll make it one. Why does he want to speak to me? What could he possibly have to say? That night, he made it clear he wanted nothing to do with me. I know rejection well; I didn’t fight it. I learned long ago that wanting someone doesn’t mean they’ll love you. Raphael takes another step, and I match him with one back. Bring it, mother fluffer. I can run—oh, I can run. Suddenly, he charges through the crowd, and I bolt, weaving through people as carefully as I can to avoid a scene. I circle the entire room until I reach the platform where the thrones sit. It could’ve been my undoing, but somehow, out of thin air, I find the courage. I climb onto the platform and slip quietly behind the thrones, hidden by pots of flowers. Even so, Prince Finn notices me. He turns from his throne, eyes wide with shock and amusement. I give him an awkward smile before hurrying down the steps on the far side of the room. Lucky for me—whether by miracle or sheer incompetence—the guards don’t see me. It makes me wonder just how poorly protected the king really is. I’m sure a few people saw what I did, and I hope to the goddess it wasn’t my mother or father. Unable to see Raphael, my feet lead me out of the ballroom to a corridor, searching for safety, where a few people linger, wrapped in conversation. I lean on the wall and take a deep breath. I can’t keep running and making a fool of myself. It’s best if I go back to my room and call it a night. But when has the universe ever given me what I ask for? Never. I find myself staring into blue crystal orbs. Raphael braces one arm above me on the wall, his other hand clenched in a fist beside my waist. “Nowhere to run now,” he whispers. A strangled whimper escapes my chest, sounding like an animal in distress. So embarrassing. Then, a couple passes by, staring at us in shock. “I don’t want to talk to you,” I whisper. His eyes drop to my mouth when I speak. I shiver. “Why?” His voice nearly brings me to my knees, yet at the same time, I want to slap him for even asking. The reason is obvious. Thankfully, I remember who he is before I act on impulse. “Go away.” “You don’t want me to go away.” His voice sends a shiver down my body. “I do.” He leans closer, speaking even lower. “No, you don’t.” His eyes drift down to my neck and shoulder, where my skin betrays me with a shudder. This makes me angry. He doesn’t get to do this to me—not after what he did. “Just because my body reacts to the ghost feelings of what we could’ve been means nothing. My mind is stronger than that. And you mean nothing to me.” LIES! I can feel it. I want him with everything I have. I hate myself for it. His expression is unwavering, as if he didn’t hear a single thing I said, his gaze fixed on my mouth. And then he begins to descend, his lips slowly getting closer to mine. “Don’t you dare…” I whisper. “Don’t you fucking dare.” It’s rare when I curse like this, but this moment deserves it.