Damnit.
The word still echoed in my mind, raw and disbelieving, a silent, venomous curse.
Elias's emerald gaze, so sharp and intelligent, held mine, and the reality of who he was slammed into me with brutal force.
He was the Alpha. The brute, the barbarian, the untamed beast, the one whose very existence defied every principle and teaching of the Verdant Sect.
Yet, here he stood, undeniably handsome, undeniably charming, every inch the poised, powerful leader. Every rumor I'd absorbed from childhood, every biased lesson instilled by Father, shattered in that instant.
My carefully constructed reality, built on years of indoctrination, wobbled precariously. I could feel the tremor deep within my hands, a subtle shake that I ruthlessly forced into stillness, my fingers laced together loosely before me.
My face, I hoped, remained a perfect mask of polite indifference, the expression carefully neutral, but inside, a furious scramble was underway. My mission, once so clear-cut, felt suddenly impossible, or perhaps, terrifyingly, too easy.
He didn't gloat. He didn't press the point, didn't exploit my momentary lapse in composure. Instead, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk played on his lips, as if he could read the chaos raging behind my calm exterior, a silent acknowledgment of my shock.
He simply turned, his movements fluid and unhurried, gesturing with an open hand towards the plush seating arranged around a low, dark wood table.
Delicate porcelain teacups and a steaming silver pot already rested upon it. "Please, my lady, make yourself comfortable," he said, his voice as smooth and deep as it had been when he greeted me at the carriage. There was no trace of the savage beast Father had described, no hint of the unthinking brute, only the poised confidence of a powerful, calculating leader.
I moved to the indicated seat, my movements precise, each step measured, every inch of my body rigid with controlled tension.
Lara, sensing the dramatic shift in atmosphere and likely picking up on the tautness of my unspoken command, stayed glued to my side, her small hand clutching a fold of my tunic like a lifeline.
The tea room itself was surprisingly elegant, a stark contrast to the imposing, almost fortress-like exterior of the Pack House. Soft, muted tapestries adorned the heavy stone walls, depicting serene scenes of nature verdant forests, winding rivers, and a full, glowing moon but notably, no images of howling wolves or aggressive displays of dominance.
A large, roaring fireplace crackled warmly in the corner, its flames dancing, reflecting in the polished surfaces of the furniture.
The air was filled with the subtle, comforting scent of brewing herbs and rich, aged paper, a far cry from the stale, medicinal tang of the Sect's austere halls, or the imagined stench of unwashed furs and primal wildness I had so vehemently associated with the Bloodmoon Pack.
"Thank you, Alpha," I replied, forcing a perfectly neutral tone, my eyes briefly meeting him before flickering away, feigning a moment of polite consideration for the room. I needed distance, a crucial moment to gather my thoughts and regain my footing. "This is quite… unexpected." My voice betrayed nothing of the churning turmoil within.
He settled into the seat opposite me, his posture relaxed, almost languid, yet with an underlying alertness that spoke of immense power held in check, like a coiled spring.
He watched me with an unnerving intensity. "Unexpected, indeed," he echoed, a hint of dry amusement in his tone, a subtle challenge to my carefully constructed composure. "I confess, I find myself equally surprised. My information regarding the Verdant Sect's envoys did not prepare me for… such a refined delegate."
His emerald eyes held mine, a knowing glint within them, challenging my assumptions even as I challenged his, a silent battle of wills already beginning.
A faint flush of annoyance, hot and unwelcome, attempted to creep up my neck. I suppressed it instantly. Was he mocking me? Or Father?
"Our Sect values discipline and control, Alpha," I stated, my voice firm, deliberately slow, reclaiming a measure of authority and projecting an unwavering conviction.
"Refinement is merely an extension of that." The words were rote, well-practiced, a shield against his piercing gaze.
He picked up the steaming silver pot, his large hands surprisingly delicate as he handled the fine porcelain teacups. He poured the amber liquid, a fragrant steam rising, and then pushed a cup towards me.
"So I've heard," he murmured, his gaze never leaving my face, never breaking contact. "Control. A powerful concept. And one that, I believe, is central to our current arrangement."
He hadn't mentioned love. He hadn't mentioned desire. He spoke only of "arrangement" and "control." The truth of Father's manipulative scheme, coupled with Lara's subtle whispers about a forced deal rather than a romantic pursuit, slammed into me with renewed, cold force. Father had lied.
Elias wasn't smitten; he was playing a political game, a calculated exchange, just like us. The bitter taste in my mouth, sharp and metallic, had nothing to do with the unexpectedly delicate flavor of the tea. It was the taste of deception, served with a smile.
"Indeed, Alpha," I replied, taking a slow sip, allowing the warmth of the tea to momentarily distract me from the growing coldness in my chest, a coldness that felt more like a chilling realization than mere fear.
"The arrangement. Father" I corrected myself immediately "The Grand Elder of the Verdant Sect, wishes to ensure a lasting peace between our two Packs." I chose my words carefully, reflecting the formal, almost archaic language of treaties and alliances, keeping my true intentions tightly locked away.
"Peace," Elias repeated, a thoughtful, almost skeptical note in his voice.
He took a sip of his own tea, his eyes still diligently studying me over the rim of the cup, dissecting my every subtle reaction.
"A noble goal, my lady. One I share, despite the historical differences between us. Your Sect has long viewed the Bloodmoon Pack as untamed. Uncontrolled. Barbaric, even." His gaze was unnervingly direct, his words precise, cutting through any pretense.
"My people, in turn, have found your Sect's rigid principles to be quite restrictive. Suffocating even."
He was laying it all out, the core ideological conflict that separated our Sect from his Pack, with a bluntness that utterly unnerved me. He wasn't afraid to speak the unvarnished truth, unlike Father, who preferred veils and illusions. "We believe in harnessing our strength, Alpha," I retorted, my voice gaining a defensive edge, a slight tremor I fought to suppress. "Not unleashing it without purpose. We control our beasts."
A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through his broad shoulders, a silent chuckle that didn't quite reach his lips, a private amusement at my earnestness.
"And I believe in embracing who we truly are, my lady. The wolf and the human, intertwined. Not denying half of one's soul, but integrating it."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes still holding mine, a silent challenge passing between us, a stark difference in philosophy that felt as vast as the distance between our respective territories.
"But perhaps," he continued, his tone softening slightly, a persuasive quality entering his voice, "we can find common ground through this arrangement. Through this marriage."
The word "marriage" hung in the air, suddenly heavier, more real than ever before. It wasn't about Elias's love, or even his impressive physical appearance. It was about raw power, cold political necessity, and a mission that suddenly felt far more complicated than simply seducing a barbaric brute.
Elias wasn't a brute; he was a chess player, a master strategist, and I, the pawn sent to dismantle his kingdom, had just walked onto his board, utterly unprepared for the true nature of the game.