Chapter 4 : THE TREATY BRIDE

"I don't want your sister."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and impossible.

I stared up at him, my heart hammering so hard against my ribs I was certain he could hear it. The heat radiating off his massive body was the only thing stopping my teeth from chattering, but his proximity was doing terrible things to my ability to think.

"What do you mean you don't want her?" I whispered, my voice barely working. "She is the most beautiful woman in Aurelia. She’s the one the High Alpha promised you."

Varek’s thumb finally stopped tracing my jawline. His hand dropped, though he didn't step back. The sheer size of him still trapped me effectively against the center table of the tent.

"I don't care what your father promised me," Varek said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I have no use for a pampered, perfect princess who has never had a single original thought in her head. I run a war kingdom, Devanne. Not a dollhouse."

Hearing my name in that dark, gravelly accent sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.

Or maybe it was just the freezing lake water seeping into my bones. Now that the adrenaline of my escape attempt was fading, the cold was finally catching up to me. A violent shudder tore through my body, and I wrapped my arms around myself, my ruined, soaking wet wine dress dripping onto his expensive furs.

Varek’s glowing eyes narrowed, tracking the movement.

"You're freezing," he stated. It wasn't an observation; it was a tactical assessment.

Before I could nod, he turned away, striding toward a heavy wooden chest at the back of the tent. He threw the lid open, rummaged inside for a fraction of a second, and pulled out a thick, black woolen tunic.

He tossed it. The heavy fabric hit my chest, and I fumbled to catch it.

"Take that off," he ordered, not bothering to look at me as he walked over to the brazier burning in the corner and tossed another log onto the fire.

I clutched the tunic against my chest, staring at his broad back in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"The dress, Princess. Take it off." He turned to face me, crossing his massive arms over his chest. "Unless you're trying to catch hypothermia to spite your pack."

"I am not taking my clothes off in front of you," I snapped, my royal pride flaring to life even as another violent shiver shook my frame.

Varek tilted his head, his lips twitching with the ghost of a dark smile. "I can assure you, Princess, a wet, shivering runaway is not going to compromise my legendary self-control. But if you prefer, I can take it off for you. You seem to be having trouble with the bodice anyway."

My jaw dropped. He was infuriating. And he was entirely too observant.

"Turn around," I demanded, pointing a trembling finger at the wall of the tent.

To my absolute shock, the Supreme Alpha King actually turned his back to me.

"You have exactly one minute before I turn back around," his rough voice drifted over his shoulder. "I'd hurry."

I didn't waste a single second. My numb fingers fought with the ruined, shirred bodice of the dress, peeling the freezing silk away from my skin. It hit the floor with a wet slap, and I quickly dragged Varek’s oversized black tunic over my head.

It was massive. The hem fell past my knees, and the shoulders draped halfway down my arms. But it was completely dry, thick, and it smelled exactly like him—woodsmoke, pine, and that dark, intoxicating scent that made my pulse jump.

"Done," I breathed out, pulling my damp hair over my shoulder.

Varek turned around.

For a moment, he just looked at me. His gaze drifted slowly from my bare legs, swallowed by the hem of his shirt, up to the collar resting against my collarbones. As the freezing lake water began to evaporate in the warmth of the fire, the scent I had spent all evening layering onto my skin warm vanilla, rich caramel, and a grounding hint of shea butter finally cut through the smell of the damp woods.

Varek inhaled slowly. His chest expanded, and those terrifying gold eyes darkened in the firelight.

"Better," he murmured, his voice dropping slightly.

He walked over to a small iron stove near the brazier and picked up a tin plate, bringing it over to the table. He set it down in front of me.

"Eat."

I looked down. Sitting on the plate was a hot, savory meat pie, steam curling off the golden-brown crust. My stomach gave a loud, traitorous growl. I hadn't eaten anything at the Mating Gala. I had been too nervous, too busy praying Caelan would choose me.

I picked it up and took a bite, groaning softly as the warm, spiced meat hit my tongue. For a moment, I completely forgot I was standing in the tent of the most lethal warlord on the continent.

Varek leaned his hip against the edge of the map table, watching me eat with an intensity that made it hard to swallow.

"So," he started, crossing his arms again. "Prince Caelan rejected you."

The bite of food turned to ash in my mouth. I lowered the plate, the familiar, suffocating humiliation rising in my throat all over again.

"You heard."

"My scouts hear everything in Aurelia. They heard the future Alpha Prince chose the younger sister, leaving the older one publicly humiliated." He tilted his head. "They didn't mention she was quite so... spirited."

"He didn't just reject me," I whispered, the pain making my voice crack despite my desperate attempt to sound indifferent. "We were engaged for political reasons. But I thought... it doesn't matter what I thought. He chose Elara. So she won't be coming to your treaty rendezvous."

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to meet his glowing eyes. "Which means Aurelia has broken the pact. You have every right to declare war, King Varek. You can march on the capital tonight. They are celebrating. Their guard is down."

Varek stared at me for a long time. The silence in the tent grew heavy, thick with unspoken tension.

"I don't break treaties," he finally said, his voice dangerously soft. "And I don't need to march on your capital."

I frowned, confused. "But they didn't give you your bride."

"The treaty," Varek murmured, pushing off the table and taking a slow, deliberate step toward me, "stated that High Alpha Rovin would provide a princess of royal blood to be my queen, sealing the northern and southern packs."

He took another step. My back hit the edge of the table.

"It never specified which princess," he finished.

My breath caught in my throat. I looked up at him, my eyes wide as his massive frame boxed me in.

"No," I whispered, shaking my head. "No. You don't want me. You just said you didn't want a political prop—"

"I don't," he interrupted, his hands coming down to grip the edge of the table on either side of my hips, trapping me completely. The heat of his body enveloped me, smelling intensely of pine and dark smoke. "But a woman who tears her own royal gown, throws herself into a freezing lake, and then commands the Supreme Alpha King to get out of her way?"

He leaned down, his face inches from mine, his glowing gold eyes locking onto mine with a fierce, burning possessiveness.

"That," Varek whispered, his voice vibrating straight to my core, "is exactly the kind of Queen the North needs."