Emilia couldn't get the King of the Lycans out of her head. The more she tried to push the encounter to the back of her mind, the more his dark, intense gaze lingered, like an invisible mark upon her soul.
Her mother, of course, had made sure the rest of the evening went according to plan, but Emilia wasn't interested in the shallow conversations or the pleasantries exchanged with other highborn families. Her thoughts kept drifting back to him—the Lycan King, Aidan Blackthorn.
"Emilia, are you even listening?" her mother snapped from across the dinner table as they returned home. Her sharp tone sliced through Emilia's thoughts.
Emilia blinked and looked at her mother, forcing a smile. "Yes, Mom. Of course. Just a little tired from the ball."
Her mother's dark brown eyes narrowed, the weight of her disapproval heavy in the air. "I told you to be careful with your words around those people. That King—Aidan Blackthorn—he is no one to trifle with."
Emilia didn't answer right away. Her mother's worry was palpable, but she didn't feel like indulging her right now. She was more interested in the dark promise the King had left her with. She couldn't help the pull. There was something in his voice that both terrified and excited her, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just some ordinary encounter.
Her father, sitting at the head of the table, caught her eye. He was the easygoing one, the man who never let anything faze him. His broad grin flashed across his face. "Don't mind your mother, sweetheart. She's just scared the King might steal your heart. Aidan Blackthorn doesn't scare me, though. Not a bit."
Her mother's glare intensified. "Your father has no sense of the danger that comes with that man."
Emilia raised an eyebrow at her father. "Really? Because he did seem kind of... intense."
Her mother shot her a sharp look. "I'm serious, Emilia. He rules with an iron fist. I'm sure you noticed how the room bent to his presence tonight."
"Oh, I noticed," she muttered, barely paying attention as she pushed her food around on her plate.
Her brother, Marcus, hadn't been much help either. Since the ball, he'd been extra protective, even more distant than usual, and every time she tried to ask him about the King, he'd snap at her to drop it. The tension between them had only grown.
The next day at school, things weren't much better. It felt like the world had shifted. People whispered as she walked down the hallway, glances filled with awe or fear.
"Did you hear? The King of the Lycans was at the Masquerade Ball last night. He actually spoke to Emilia Hart."
"Yeah, I heard he might be her soulmate," one girl whispered, her voice tinged with envy. "The King never speaks to anyone. It's said he only picks his mate once in a lifetime."
Emilia's stomach twisted at the word "soulmate." That had been what he had said—"You're mine now, Emilia Hart."
She wanted to laugh it off, to believe it was all some kind of sick joke, but every time she tried to convince herself otherwise, his voice—his words—kept playing on a loop in her mind. That unnerving, possessive tone. It felt too real.
At lunch, she sat at her usual table with her friends, pretending like everything was normal, but she could feel the stares of curiosity and awe from every corner. Every conversation seemed to stop when she entered the cafeteria. She was about to snap when she felt a presence behind her, strong and unshakable. Without turning around, she knew who it was.
"Emilia."
Her heart skipped a beat, and her body froze. That deep voice. That commanding tone.
Turning slowly, her eyes met the brooding green of his.
Aidan Blackthorn stood a few feet away from her, towering over her, the same dark mask he wore at the ball now hanging from his hand. His deep green eyes pierced into hers, his expression unreadable, but the tension between them was thick. People around them shifted uncomfortably, sensing something was about to happen.
"Can I help you?" Emilia asked, trying to sound casual despite the fluttering in her chest. She wasn't sure why he was here—why he was at her school—but she wasn't going to back down from whatever game he was playing.
"I was hoping you'd come with me," Aidan said smoothly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I think it's time we had a real conversation, Emilia."
Her heart pounded, but she wasn't going to let him know. She stood from her seat, her friends around her going quiet.
"I'm not going anywhere with you." She crossed her arms, her voice sharp. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I'm not interested."
Aidan smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile—it was predatory. "It's not a game, Emilia. And I'm afraid you don't have a choice."
Before she could protest further, a familiar hand grabbed her arm, pulling her back sharply.
Marcus.
He was glaring at Aidan like he wanted to tear him apart. His fists were clenched, his jaw locked in a snarl. "Get away from her," Marcus growled, his voice low and dangerous.
Aidan glanced at Marcus, his lips curling slightly. "Relax, Marcus. I'm not here to fight. I just came to speak to your sister."
"I don't care," Marcus shot back, his voice rising. "You stay away from her. I'm warning you."
Emilia stepped between them, putting a hand on her brother's chest, pushing him back slightly. "It's fine, Marcus," she said, her voice tight. "I can handle myself."
Marcus shot her a look, his eyes flashing with anger, but he didn't say anything. He was still tense, ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation.
Aidan's gaze softened as he looked down at Emilia. "You're just like them, aren't you? Stubborn and reckless."
Emilia raised an eyebrow. "If by 'them' you mean normal people, then yes. I am. So, no, I'm not going anywhere with you, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped acting like we're already involved in some twisted fairy tale."
Aidan leaned in, his voice low, but the words sent a shiver down her spine. "You don't have a choice, Emilia. You will come with me. And whether you like it or not, we are already intertwined."
She clenched her jaw, refusing to show any weakness, but deep down, she knew something had changed. The pull between them wasn't just a feeling—it was something deeper, something neither of them could escape.
"Your kingly threats don't scare me," she retorted. "But I'm sure you'll figure that out soon enough."
He smirked, the edge of a challenge in his eyes. "We'll see, Emilia. We'll see."
With that, he turned and walked away, the crowd parting for him like the Red Sea.
Marcus stood there, his fists still clenched, his eyes following Aidan until he disappeared through the doors. Emilia could feel her brother's anger radiating off of him.
"You should've let me handle that," Marcus muttered. "That man is dangerous. And you—"
"I know, Marcus," she snapped. "I know."
But what she didn't say, what she couldn't bring herself to admit, was that despite all her defiance, despite the warning signs, she couldn't stop thinking about him.
The King.
Her soulmate.