The carriage trundled on, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels the only sound between us. I was still trapped between Alexander's legs, and he wasn't planning on letting me go anytime soon.
Honestly, I cared less about being trapped. My thoughts were running wild. I was trying to wrap my brain around my mate's ability, and Alexander's normal expression wasn't helping.
None of this was normal. My mate possessed an ability that I never knew werewolves could possess from birth.
I was taught that healing ability only belonged to some pure-blooded vampires. Was this an exception for pure-blooded Lycans?
"You're so quiet, Princess," Alexander's knuckles brushed my cheeks and slid down my chin. The contact made me realize I'd been staring at him for way too long, lost in my thoughts. "What's going through that pretty little head of yours?"
I blinked back to reality. "Werewolves aren't supposed to have that power. How can you have this ability from birth?"
He seemed to enjoy the confusion in my voice and my eyes, and he smiled mischievously. "There are lot of things you don't know about our kind, Princess. Pure-blooded Lycans are not bound by the same rules as normal Lycans and werewolves. It'll be unfair if a clone possess the same ability as the original, don't you think?" His fingers traced the lines of my chin, but stopped when they got to my scar, the same one Damian created.
I watched a new emotion grow in his eyes. "What happened to you here, Princess?"
I closed my eyes as his fingers trailed the scar. It reminded me of Damian and I hated it. I hated that he left scars in my life that will always remind me of him, even when he was no longer in my life. "It's nothing," I lied, not wanting to talk about it.
Alexander's fingers dropped from my face, his glare narrowing with an incision that could slice through an ocean, a clear warning that he wasn't pleased with my answer.
Thankfully, the carriage came to a stop, diverting his attention.
The coachman knocked on the door softly, "We're here, your highness."
I looked around the new environment through the window, even if there wasn't much to see. Buildings towered around us, blocking out most of the sunny sky. The air felt different here, heavier, charged with an energy that prickled my skin.
"We'll be alighting, Cornelius," Alexander said, and the coachman opened the door for us.
Alexander wordlessly stepped out of the carriage, with his stone-cold expression remaining the same. "Come, Princess," he muttered, offering his hand.
Holding my gown with my left hand to stop it's obstruction to my movements, I quietly placed my hands in his. He held them firmly and led me out of carriage.
The coachman closed the door of the carriage.
While Alexander gave him instructions, my eyes darted to the buildings around. It was a market for trading, with people everywhere, going in and out of each building to purchase items.
In the next moment, Alexander stood beside me, grabbing my attention.
"Stay close to me, Princess," he ordered before he started moving, "Getting lost here is same as signing your death warrant."