Annalise's POV
"A suggestion?" I echoed, my brows furrowing in surprise, the words lingering in the air.
"Yes, your Grace." His voice was calm, too calm.
I felt an unfamiliar tightness coil in my chest, a strange sense of anticipation rising within me—like I had just stepped into a web I couldn't escape. "And what suggestion would that be?"
"You simply have to find another man willing to challenge Vincent for your hand. That is the only way you can escape his clutch."
"What?" The thought hit me like a shockwave. "I actually have to find a lover?" My breath caught, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. The weight of his words was like cold iron settling over my chest.
The man pulled back slightly, his gaze sharp and calculating, studying me like I was some kind of puzzle.
"Vincent values his reputation as King of the Alphas, and every move the royal Pack makes Is scrutinized by the elders and council." His voice remained steady, but there was a subtle edge to it now, the usual darkness beneath the surface.
I stayed silent, my mind spinning. "Find a lover… in such a short time?" It felt impossible, like I was drowning in a sea of impossible decisions, but I had no choice but to swim. I barely knew how to make friends much more a lover. And the most important question was where do I even start looking?
"Simply requesting a divorce isn't enough," he continued, his words deliberate. "As the future Luna, you owe a duty to the kingdom and the packs beneath it. Vincent can tie you down with that alone. But if a Luna is to back down from her position, she must have a valid plea. In this case, it's finding a new mate—or lover."
The weight of his words pressed down on me, each syllable sinking deeper, dragging me into an abyss of uncertainty. I exhaled heavily, my shoulders sagging as the gravity of my situation took root.
"So, bottom line is, I have to find someone," I murmured, my voice tinged with disbelief, as if repeating the words would make them less real.
"Yes," he said, a faint flicker of something in his eyes. "But not just anyone."
"Not just anyone?" I repeated, frustration building. I felt a cold sweat gathering on the back of my neck as I sank back to my knees, trying to steady myself. How could I possibly—
"Yes…" He stepped closer now, his presence looming over me like a shadow, thickening the air between us. "And this is where I come in your Grace."
My heart jolted, and I looked up sharply, my pulse racing. "What do you mean?" The words escaped my lips in a whisper, though my voice trembled with an unspoken question.
He paused, a slow, deliberate movement as he lowered his head, then raised it again, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light, dark and knowing.
His voice dropped, hushed and haunting, vibrating with something that sent a shiver straight through me. "You could take me as your lover," he said, his gaze never leaving mine. "And I will fight for your hand."
I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. There was a shift in the air—a sudden tension that made everything feel heavy, as though the world itself was holding its breath. His words seemed to stay afloat, suspended between us, each syllable thick with something I couldn't quite name.
He straightened, his eyes still locked onto mine, his voice low and clear, but with an undercurrent of something dangerous. "I will give you the escape you seek. If you want it.
The passage felt smaller now, the walls closing in. The mere suggestion of his offer—so simple, so loaded—had turned everything upside down.
I couldn't tell if the air had always been this thick, or if it was the sudden pull between us, the almost electric tension sparking in the space where his words had fallen.
I swallowed hard, the gravity of what he was saying sinking in. His offer was too bold, too dangerous, and yet—Why did I feel like the choice was already made for me? Better still, why was he offering himself to help me?
Just like how we ended up here, across from each other. A strange man—perhaps just a side character in this story, and yet, he felt so… invested in me?
"Why are you trying to help me?" I asked, unable to mask the suspicion creeping into my voice. "I don't think I've done anything to warrant such a favor from you."
His expression shifted, a soft, almost amused chuckle escaping him. But he didn't answer.
"So what's in it for you?" I pressed, folding my arms, my gaze unwavering, my heart thumping louder with every passing second.
"I understand your hesitation," he began, his voice smooth, controlled. "But I don't mean any harm, Your Grace. I simply realized that you and I… we're not so different."
"You're running away from someone too?" I asked, the words slipping from my lips before I could stop them.
He gave a slight shake of his head, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a half-smile. "Not exactly… It's more like I'm running away from a possibility."
"A possibility?" I repeated, curiosity twisting in my chest.
He nodded, eyes locking with mine, his gaze intense, as if every word he spoke was weighed down by some hidden meaning. "Yes…"
"What possibility?"
"A possibility that I might be bound to a bride I loathe, for the sake of tradition."
Oh?
His words hung in the air, charged with something I couldn't quite place. His reason sounded… believable, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something almost ironic. I felt my shoulders loosen a fraction, yet my suspicion remained.
"So, you're also terrified of marrying someone you don't want?" I asked, my voice dipping into amusement despite the tension in the air.
"I wouldn't say terrified," he replied with a shrug, the flicker of a smirk pulling at his lips. "More like… irritated."
"Right… right." I muttered
"So what do you say your Grace?" He asked.
"No"