Chapter 15
1081 Words
“This isn’t supposed to be your job,” Darius said through gritted teeth as we reached the top of the stairs.
I just shrugged and kept walking. The cuts on my arm and neck stung, but pain was an old friend. I had learned long ago that complaining about it changed nothing. Darius looked like he wanted to argue more, but I was already moving. Halfway down the corridor I stopped and turned back to him.
“Whoever wanted Nyx dead is still in that ballroom, and very clearly this isn’t over because they were waiting for orders. So instead of questioning me, you should worry about your King,” I said calmly. Not like he was going to die anyway.
Darius muttered something under his breath about “reckless queens” and “explaining this to His Majesty,” but he didn’t follow me up. I turned and continued toward the private lounge area Nyx had claimed for us. The moment I pushed the door open, he was inside, pacing like a caged wolf. His dark silver eyes locked on me immediately. The air grew thick with his Lycan aura — heavy, suffocating, and filled with barely contained rage.
I smiled at him, sweet and unbothered. “Miss me?”
“Why are you so stubborn?” he asked, voice low and dangerous. “Didn’t I tell you to rest and not fight?” He was pissed. Really pissed. His aura pressed down on the room like a storm about to break. Ashra whined softly in my mind, caught between respect for the dominant male and irritation at being scolded.
I took a step back instinctively, but I didn’t cower. “I only went out because I didn’t want to be some caged bird waiting for someone to rescue me. I did that when I was nine and ten. No one saved me, so I learned to save myself first. And always check my own place. Whoever sent those assassins is still in that party, and clearly those bastards were waiting for orders. Their leader is dead, so those other guys might know something if you question them well, but I doubt it.”
Nyx stared at me for a long moment. The silence stretched, heavy and charged. Then he exhaled sharply and pointed at the couch. “Sit down. Let me clean you up. Your neck is bleeding.”
I quietly sat down. He pulled out a first aid kit from a drawer and knelt in front of me. His hands were surprisingly gentle as he cleaned the cut on my neck. It stung a little, but I didn’t flinch. I had felt worse.
“Do you think I can’t protect you?” Nyx suddenly asked out of the blue. His fingers paused on my skin, silver eyes lifting to meet mine.“Is that why you don’t trust me?”
Trust? Protect me? I stopped needing protection a long time ago.
“Look, I know I’m supposed to do everything you say, but I don’t even trust myself, so how can I trust someone else?” I asked back, genuinely not understanding. “I grew up knowing that I didn’t need anyone to protect me. When I needed protection as a child, I was cast aside like trash. So why would I still cling to that illusion?”
Nyx had nothing to say to that. He finished cleaning the wound in silence, his jaw tight. The sting of the antiseptic was nothing compared to the memories his question had dragged up. Fifteen years of fighting alone. Fifteen years of learning that the only person who could save me was me.
After he finished, I took my golden shawl and wrapped it around my neckline, hiding both the fresh injury and the hickeys he had left during his rut. Nyx watched me the entire time, his silver eyes dark and unreadable.
“Come on,” he said finally, standing up. “I want to introduce you to everyone in that party. Officially telling them that you’re my wife and my mate.”
I nodded. There was no point arguing. This was part of the contract, part of the role I had signed up for but My bare feet protested against the floor. I muttered with a wry smile. “Very queenly.”
Nyx’s lips twitched—the closest he came to a smile. “They’ll remember it.” He led me toward the door, his grip was firm but not crushing. As we stepped back into the hallway, Darius waited with a fresh pair of heels—sensible, lower ones and more comfortable than the last ones. I smoothed down my crimson gown, gave a smile we walked off.
Nyx’s hand rested on the small of my back as we re-entered the ballroom. The moment we appeared, the entire room seemed to hold its breath again. The music faltered for a second before the orchestra recovered. Nyx led me straight to the center of the floor where the most important guests were gathered.
He raised his hand, and the room fell silent.
“Tonight, I would like to present to you my wife and mate — Queen Evie Throne,” he announced, his voice carrying across the hall with commanding authority. “She has survived what the others couldn't and she has proven her strength. Any who wish her harm will answer to me.”
The applause that followed was polite but laced with shock and curiosity. I kept my expression calm, nodding to the nobles and Alphas who bowed. Some looked impressed. Others looked terrified. A few — mostly those aligned with my father’s old allies — looked murderous. Why won't they? I sent Isaac to prison and demoted him, just three days into my reign as the queen.
Nyx stayed close to me the entire time, his hand never leaving my back. Every time someone approached, he introduced me with possessive pride. “My queen.” “My mate.” The words sent strange warmth through my chest, but I pushed it down. This was politics. Nothing more.
Yet when his fingers brushed the shawl covering my neck, a spark of heat passed between us. His silver eyes darkened. I knew exactly what he was thinking about — this man was rotten, thinking about something so dirty in a time like this.
Ashra purred. *He wants us again already.*
“Later” I told her.
- Writer
