Forthcoming Ball

Blake’s point of view . . .

If I can’t dance with Hermione, I’ll make a solemn promise to myself that I’ll stay at home instead of going out—with the music playing, there was no other woman save her whom I wanted to touch my hand but her, and be only her.

As I made my way to the throne that belonged to my father. Gael and Ajax, his beta and head gamma, greeted me with their bow—after that, father gave them a sign to leave, and I took a few more steps toward him to communicate.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to attend the forthcoming ball with Artemis,” I was the one who informed him first. He laughed in disbelief, but I pretended that it didn’t bother me and pretended that he was the unhappy one, and I didn’t care.

“What is the name of everything holy are you talking about?” He spoke softly. I can immediately make out the fury written all over his face.

I chuckled. “I told her that it’s possible I won’t be able to dance with her.” I echoed what I had just said. I don’t even feel terr