Chapter 33

Crown Prince Callan

I was raised to have complete control over myself. From the time I was old enough to walk, the Empress taught me the strict discipline expected of someone from the Imperial family. An Alpha of royal blood was never supposed to lose his temper or give in to his instincts. He was supposed to stay calm, think carefully, and always remain in control.

But as I watched Stirling Vance pull my weak, sickly little brother into the middle of the ballroom, I felt that control slowly slipping away.

At first, I was angry.

Stirling was a brute from the Northern House. He was the kind of man who used his strength to intimidate people whenever things didn’t go his way. Pulling Elian into the Equinox waltz was nothing more than a cruel show of power. He was making fun of my brother and showing everyone how weak he was.

I tightened my jaw and rested my gloved hand on the silver handle of my sword.

I planned to let Stirling have his little moment before stepping in and putting him in his place in front of everyone.

Then the large brass burners along the walls suddenly hissed. Pale smoke began filling the huge glass hall and then I smelled it.

The scent didn’t slowly reach me. It hit me like a punch to the chest. It was strong and overwhelming. It smelled of wild honey, crushed flowers, and the sharp scent that fills the air before a thunderstorm.

My mind didn’t even have time to process it.

The scent went straight through me, reaching somewhere deep inside my body. A strange, powerful feeling suddenly woke up in my stomach something dark and instinctive that I had never experienced before.

My nostrils flared as I breathed the scent in deeply. The beautiful ballroom around me started to blur. The voices of the nobles faded until they sounded like meaningless noise. I couldn’t focus on anything else.

The only thing I could see was Elian. My small, trembling brother, trapped in Stirling’s arms and one word suddenly filled my mind.

Mate.

The word didn’t come from my logical mind. It came from somewhere deeper. Something wild and instinctive inside me took over, drowning out every thought about duty, manners, or being the Crown Prince.

Mate.

I watched Stirling suddenly stop in the middle of the dance. Then I saw the Northern Lord lower his head and press his face against Elian’s neck.

I saw my ‘brother’ grab desperately onto Stirling’s velvet coat. A soft, broken sound escaped his lips. Something inside me snapped.

A red haze covered my vision. I didn’t even realize I was moving until I was already halfway across the marble floor.

My heavy military boots echoed through the sudden silence. I didn’t care that the Empress was watching from the royal dais.

I didn’t care that hundreds of foreign guests were staring at me.

I pulled out my sword.

The sharp sound of steel leaving its sheath cut through the room.

I pointed the blade straight at Stirling’s throat.

“Step away from my brother, Lord Vance,” I ordered.

But my voice didn’t sound like the calm Crown Prince of New Avalon.

It came out low, rough, and full of anger.

Stirling didn’t move.

He didn’t let Elian go.

Instead, he turned his body and pulled the small, shaking figure even closer to his chest, protecting her from me.

His amber eyes were gone.

They had turned completely dark and glowing red.

He looked like an Alpha who had completely lost control after sensing an Omega in the middle of her heat.

“She’s mine,” Stirling growled.

He showed his teeth like a wild animal protecting what belonged to him.

She.

That one word hit me harder than anything else.

She.

The word hit me like a bucket of ice water.

Then the anger came.

My left hand shot forward and grabbed a fistful of Stirling’s thick green coat. With a burst of strength, I pulled him backward and broke his hold on her.

Before she could fall, I dropped my sword and caught her.

My hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her tightly against my armored chest. I was holding her too hard, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was terrified that if I loosened my grip, I would turn around and kill Stirling with my bare hands.

The moment she touched me, whatever control I had left disappeared.

She was burning with fever.

Heat poured through her sweat-soaked silver tunic and against my skin. The linen bindings around her chest had already torn apart, revealing the truth she had been hiding.

“Callan,” she sobbed.

Her voice was weak and broken.

She didn’t fight me. The poison running through her body had left her desperate for the comfort and strength of an Alpha.

Her trembling hands moved up my chest and grabbed the collar of my uniform.

She looked up at me with feverish eyes, silently begging me to make the pain stop.

I buried my face in her hair and breathed in her scent.

Honey and rain.

The smell filled my lungs and made it almost impossible to think clearly.

A low growl came from deep inside my chest.

Mine.

The entire conservatory exploded into chaos.

The Alphas in the crowd were losing control. Some were shouting while others pushed against the Imperial Guards, who were struggling to keep everyone back.

I heard the sound of steel as Stirling pulled out his sword and shouted my name in a fit of jealousy and rage.

But then the Empress’s voice cut through the chaos.

“Guards!” she screamed from the dais.

Her violet eyes were wide with anger and horror as she stared at the person in my arms.

“That is not a prince! That is a filthy liar and an abomination! Take her and execute her now!”

Dozens of guards rushed toward us.

The sound of their weapons being lowered filled the room as the sharp ends of their halberds pointed straight at me.

I didn’t let Elouera go.

Instead, I tightened my arms around her waist and pulled my dark cloak around her, hiding her completely from the guards.

Then I slowly bent down and picked up my sword from the marble floor.

I didn’t point it at Stirling.

I didn’t point it at the Alphas rushing toward us.

I turned toward the Imperial Guards and placed myself directly between them and the trembling Omega in my arms.

Then I raised my blood-covered sword toward the woman who had given birth to me.

The Empress.

“The first man who takes one step toward her,” I said, my voice low and deadly, “dies.”

The red glow in my vision grew stronger.

I meant every word.