Chapter 3
1470 Words
The Hallway
ARIEL
The moment Lyold walked out of the Council Chamber, the air in the room seemed to rush out with him, leaving an emptiness that made my ears pop.
I didn't wait for the Elders to start their unavoidable screaming match. I didn't wait for Karen to dig her claws into my arm and hiss more threats about my son. I stood up, my legs feeling like they were made of water, and smoothed down the front of my dress.
"I need air," I choked out.
"Ariel, sit down!" Karen barked, her calm cracking. "We need to strategize. If he contests the will…."
"I said I need air," I snapped, the Wolf inside me flaring up just enough to silence her for a second.
I turned and practically ran toward the broken doors. I needed to get to Leo. I needed to grab my son, lock us in our suite, and figure out how to survive the hurricane that had just made landfall.
I stepped into the corridor. It was the East Wing hallway…long, narrow, paneled in dark wood, and lined with portraits of former Alphas. It was usually quiet, but today the silence felt serious, like the breathless moment before a lightning strike.
I walked fast, my heels clicking a hysterical beat on the hardwood.
‘Left. Right. Staircase.’
I just had to make it to the staircase.
Thump.
A heavy bootstep sounded behind me.
It was slow. Deliberate. It wasn't the hurried scuffle of a guard or the shuffling of an Elder. It was the heavy, grounded footprint of a man who owned the floor he walked on.
My heart leaped into my throat. I didn't look back. I sped up.
Thump. Thump.
The footsteps sped up too, matching my beat effortlessly.
I broke into a jog, ignoring the humiliation of it. I reached the corner, breathless, my hand reaching for the wall to steady myself as I turned.
A shadow blurred past me.
It moved with supernatural speed…a rush of wind and darkness that defied physics. Before I could take another step, a huge figure appeared in front of me, blocking the path.
I gasped, skidding to a halt, my chest heaving.
Lyold.
He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, looking like he had been waiting there for an hour, not two seconds. He blocked the entire width of the corridor. There was no way around him.
"Going somewhere?" he asked. His voice was low, rough like pebble grinding together.
I took a step back. "Let me pass, Lyold. I need to see my son."
"Your son," he repeated, pushing off the wall. He took a slow step toward me. "You seem very concerned about the whelp. Is he sick? Weak?"
"He is perfect," I said, my voice shaking despite my best efforts. "And his name is Leo."
"Leo," Lyold tasted the name, frowning as if it was bitter. "A lion's name for a wolf. How... poetic."
He took another step. I took another step back. My back hit the wall.
I was trapped.
Lyold didn't stop. He closed the distance until he was towering over me, invading my personal space so thoroughly that my senses were dazed. He didn't touch me…not skin to skin…but he slammed his hand against the wall right next to my head.
BANG.
I flinched, closing my eyes.
"Look at me," he commanded. The Alpha tone in his voice vibrated through my skull, commanding my wolf to submit.
I forced my eyes open. He was so close I could see the flecks of silver in his storm-gray eyes. I could see the pores of his skin, the rough stubble on his jaw, the white ridge of that terrible scar on his neck.
But it was the heat that hit me hardest. He was a furnace. His body heat rolled off him in waves, consuming me, melting the icy calm I had spent four years building. It was a suffocating, intoxicating warmth.
"You lied in there," he murmured, leaning down.
"I didn't," I whispered. "I told them what the evidence showed."
"You told them what kept you safe," he corrected. He lowered his head, his nose brushing against the curve of my jawline.
I froze.
He was scenting me.
It was an intimate, primal act. Usually reserved for mates or lovers. He inhaled deeply, the sound quick and wet. He dragged his nose down my neck, hovering over my pulse point.
I felt his hot breath skate over my sensitive skin, and a jolt of traitorous electricity shot straight down my spine and pooled between my legs.
My body remembered him. My body remembered the night four years ago, the secret touches, the forbidden heat before everything went to hell.
My body didn't care that he hated me; it only knew that the Alpha was close.
"Tell me, Ariel," he growled against my throat, the vibration of his words causing me to jerk. "My father... he was sick for a long time. Bedridden for two years."
He inhaled again, deeper this time, as if he were trying to examine my soul through my scent.
"His scent on you is faint," he whispered, his tone dangerous. "Stale. Old."
He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, his expression twisting into a sneer of fake jealousy.
"Who have you been warming your bed with while the old man was rotting? The Beta? That coward Ollie?"
"I haven't…." I gasped, offended. "I have been faithful! I am a Luna!"
"Faithful," he laughed, but there was no joke in it. "You don't know the meaning of the word. You were sleeping with me while wearing his ring, remember?"
"I wasn't wearing his ring yet!" I protested, the old defense rising up. "It was before the wedding! I tried to call it off, Lyold, I tried…"
"But you didn't," he cut me off, his voice turning icy. He raised his hand. For a second, I thought he might strike me, and I flinched.
He stopped. His eyes darkened at my fear.
Slowly, agonizingly, he raised a finger and traced the line of my jaw. His skin was rough, calloused from years of fighting and prison labor. The touch was feather-light, but it burned like a label.
He traced my chin, then my lower lip. My breath hitched. I stared at his mouth, hating myself for wanting him to kiss me, hating him for making me feel this way.
"You sold me out for a crown, Ariel," he whispered. "You let them drag me away in chains so you could sit on a throne and play Queen. I hope it was worth it."
"It wasn't for a crown," I choked out, tears stinging my eyes. "You don't know anything."
"Then tell me!" he roared, slamming his other hand against the wall on my other side, caging me completely. "Tell me the truth! Tell me why you looked at me in that library and let them take me!"
I opened my mouth, the truth hovering on my tongue. ‘Karen threatened to kill you. She threatened to kill the baby I was carrying….your baby.’
But I couldn't say it. Not here. Not with Karen’s spies everywhere. If I claimed Leo was his, Karen would kill the boy before the sun went down.
I clamped my mouth shut and looked away.
Lyold waited. The silence stretched, stuffy and agonizing.
When he realized I wasn't going to speak, the fire in his eyes died, replaced by a wall of ice.
"Fine," he said softly. Too softly.
He pushed himself off the wall, stepping back. The loss of his body heat was instant, leaving me shivering in the cold hallway.
He straightened his jacket, adjusting his cuffs as if he hadn't just been on the verge of tearing my throat out. He looked at me with a detached cruelty that hurt more than the anger.
"Enjoy your regency, Ariel," he said. He turned to walk away, then stopped.
He looked over his shoulder, a cruel smirk playing on his lips.
"Oh, and Ariel?"
I looked up, wiping a tear from my cheek.
"Since you’re so fond of titles..." He looked me up and down, his eyes landing on my stomach where his child had once grown, unknown to him.
"Hello... Mother."
The word hit me like a slap. He said it with such hatefulness, such twisted irony, weaponizing the fake family emotion to remind me of the incestuous nature of our past, and the tough walls of our present.
He walked away, his laughter echoing down the empty corridor.
I slid down the wall until I hit the floor, burying my face in my hands. I was shaking. I was terrified.
But worse than that... underneath the fear, underneath the shame...
I was wet.
- Writer
