Perseus' Pov
I brush my fingers through my hair as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, adjusting my waistcoat just as Severus walks into the room.
"They're here," he informs me.
I don't need further clarification to know he's referring to the Council members.
"Don't you think it's time to release her? It's been four days."
"People stay there for years. It's not that big a deal," I shrug.
He steps closer. Severus and I have been friends since birth—his father was my father's Beta, and now he's mine. Classic cliché: the king's best friend. But there's one unspoken rule in our friendship—I don't listen to him. Still, he keeps trying. Too hard. So hard, it's suffocating. I already have a stepmother and a dying father constantly dictating my every move. I don't need another voice of reason nagging me.
"Perseus, you ordered them not to give her food or water until she apologized. I'm not married, but even I know you don't do that to a wife."
"She refused the food. I simply let her follow through." I turn from the mirror and head to the table, shuffling through the drawers for the files required for today's meeting. "Once she tames the feral beast in her, then I'll bring her to the Council. Who knows what tricks she has up her sleeve." I scoff.
"You killed her husband."
"Yes, I did. Didn't her husband kill the husbands of others in battle?"
"Well, you don't expect her to be okay all of a sudden. She's still grieving. Not to mention the people you gruesomely beheaded as a wedding gift."
I'm sick of hearing that line. Yes, I killed that shrewd bastard, and no, I have no regrets. I'd do it again if I could. The problem now... is Eleanor.
When the scratches she left on my face healed, I briefly considered getting rabies shots. She's impossible to contain—either throwing daggers, biting with fangs, or clawing like a wild animal.
It feels like I've adopted a savage feline, not taken a wife. The beheadings were a warning. Tearing the wedding dress? A reminder that I'm not someone she can trample over. But her boiling blood seems to have drowned all logic.
"I have a pack to run. I don't have time for a deranged Luna. If she won't submit, I'll teach her how to. Come on, we've got a meeting to attend." I sigh, drawing the curtains on the conversation.
Each time I remember that night, a fresh wave of rage surges through me. It's hard to tell what she's thinking when you're not looking at her. But I read her perfectly in the throne room—right before she threw that dagger at me.
She looked so calm. So innocent. Her bare face dotted with a faint trail of freckles, emerald eyes glowing even with confusion as Severus called her my bride.
She was nervous when she walked in—clutching the folds of her black mourning dress that I've grown to despise. The dagger? That I didn't see coming. But I saw the pain in her eyes when she realized I was her husband's murderer. Still, trying to assassinate me in public? That was bold.
It's a shame to have sharp senses and still lose to someone else. Her behavior has made me question my judgment. But these days she's been locked up? They've given me time to prepare for whatever tricks she'll pull. Hopefully, they've reminded her who's in charge.
"Alpha? Alpha?" A tap on my arm pulls me back to the present. We're in the council chamber. Each representative of the seven most powerful Lycan packs, gathered under my leadership.
After the Great Reunion, all Lycan packs came under one pack—Blood Thorn. The Great Seven, pioneer leaders that assisted Gray Bloodthorn, my ancestor, were represented by chiefs after their division into regions by Gray. The regions—Ashfang, Moonspire, Dreadmere, Frosthelm, Raventhorn, Sunclaw, and Cragfall—are all represented by Chiefs, making up the council.
"Yes?" I mutter, raising my brows and skimming through the papers stacked in front of me.
"We've been informed of your marriage. That's why we're here. We can discuss the dragon shifters and the fae next time. This—this is a serious matter." Chief Bacchus, head of Ashfang, speaks first.
"I agree," the other six echo.
"Perfect. Why talk about upgrading our defenses for a potential war when we can just gossip about the Alpha's marital life instead?" I let out a dry, mocking laugh, watching them shift uncomfortably in their seats.
"Gossip?" one counters. "Your marriage is key to the leadership of this pack. It strengthens our defenses, Alpha Perseus."
"And I heard you married a werewolf. A werewolf? Are we wedding our slaves now?" Chief Thomas of Dreadmere barks, his face twisted in disgust.
"A werewolf?" they all echo in disbelief.
I glance at Severus, who's trying not to laugh. Exactly as I predicted. It's ironic—I can read them like a book, yet my feral wife remains an unsolvable puzzle.
"What happened to Lady Dolores?" Bacchus snaps. "The girl Luna Margaret herself suggested? She ticks all the boxes for a proper Luna. She's been betrothed to you since you turned sixteen, Perseus!"
"Don't you dare raise your voice at me," I thunder, making them flinch. Sensing their fear, I lean back in my chair. "Yes. I married a werewolf—the daughter of Alpha Kai, ruler of Clawford Pack. Because that's my business to deal with."
"It's not just your business," Bacchus spits. "A werewolf? What happens when the rest of the werewolves find out she's one of them? Rebellion. She could be planning it now. I heard what happened the night she came here—the scratch, the fall down the stairs. You married her to spite us, but she's doing a damn good job spiting you instead."
"Guards!" I call out, and the men stationed by the doors step in.
"Take Bacchus to the dungeon," I say calmly, watching his eyes widen in disbelief, along with the rest of the council.
"Perseus?" Severus says, a warning in his voice, but I ignore him.
"The events of the night my wife arrived are restricted to this palace. If you've heard the details, you're not just violating my privacy—you've planted spies."
Bacchus stands, hands trembling, while his companions stare him down. "I would never—I just… word spreads quickly, you know? I—"
I roll my eyes at his pitiful defense. "Take this man away."
The guards bow and drag him out as he begs and stammers the whole way.
"Bacchus is suspended from the council and all further meetings. His replacement will be appointed by the Beta tomorrow. The rest of you are dismissed. I suggest you pluck out whatever spies you have in my household before you leave. This meeting is adjourned."
Just as I rise to my feet, a guard rushes into the room.
He bows and walks up to me, then leans in to whisper, "The Luna is unconscious."
What the bloody hell.