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Before I made it, though, he caught up and caught my wrist in his hand. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Outside,” I said. “I need space.”
He kept his hand around my wrist as he stepped close. “The last thing we need right now, Reyna, is more space.” He pressed his chest to my back and ducked his head closer, nosing behind my ear and inhaling. “I know you yearn for me.” His voice vibrated into my bones from the intimacy. “I can smell your desire.”
I pressed my thighs together. It was no mystery that I wanted him. I’d made that clear the last night we’d spent together in this room. “My body and mind have two different opinions of you.”
“Perhaps that’s part of the problem,” he said. “You’re so caught up in your mind that you ignore your body—and your wolf.”
“I don’t ignore her,” I huffed, even as my wolf protested. Then I snapped my mouth shut. I didn’t need to justify myself to the king. I wasn’t an animal like the wolves of Nightfall. I had more self-restraint than that.
“We cannot be equals if you keep pushing me away.” He set his hand at my waist and then smoothed his palm toward my hip. “Trust isn’t only developed through reason. Your wolf trusts me. Listen to her. Our wolves are our foundations.” Then his hand bumped against the knife in the pocket of my robe. His touch stilled. “What’s this?”
“What do you think?” I whispered. My voice was steady despite the cold fear crawling into my throat. “A lady should be able to defend herself if necessary.”
“You thought that would be necessary against me?” he asked. “You would draw a knife on your husband?”
“If I thought I could not trust him,” I said.
He released me. He stepped back so suddenly I nearly fell forward, but I caught myself, then whirled to face him. I ignored my wolf’s whining, and the present curl of desire low in my gut. I had more arguments on the tip of my tongue but they melted away when I saw his expression. He looked angry—but more than that, he looked hurt.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “The first step to building trust between us is for you to apologize,” I said. “I won’t be a trophy or a prize. My husband must take my feelings into account for this marriage to work.”
He stomped back to the chairs and poured himself another finger of brandy. “I won’t apologize for protecting my pack and my kingdom,” he said. “I will always do what is best for my people, even if it comes at my own expense.”
“I’m not asking you to renounce what you did!” I said. “I’m asking you to apologize for hurting me.”
“You want me to apologize because you miss your treasonous boyfriend?” he asked.
Hot tears prickled behind my eyes. “No, Elias,” I said. My voice quivered. “I only want you to care that it hurt me. Is that so impossible for you to understand?”
“And I want you to understand the risk he posed to my kingdom,” the king said. “I want you to be grateful that I spared Frasia from war.”
I turned my gaze toward the crackling fire. My throat tightened as I held back my tears. Why was I so disappointed and hurt? Why was I even surprised? This entire competition, the king had done nothing but show over and over again how he chose to rule. He cared about his kingdom, and not at all about me. I was a prize to be won, a challenge to be overcome. Not a partner. Not an equal. I’d gotten so caught up in the beauty of the ceremony, and the vows, and the elegance of the party, that I’d allowed myself a sliver of hope that maybe he’d be different.
I was such a fool. Such a desperate fool.
“I understand,” I said curtly, and made my way toward the door.
Again, he caught me by the wrist. “You’re leaving?”
I pulled my hand away and crossed my arms again. “Yes,” I said. “I’d like to sleep in my own chambers.”
“These are your chambers now,” he said.
“I don’t want to be here!” I exclaimed. It sounded childish even to my own ears, but it was the truth. “I never wanted this.”
“Little wolf,” he said, low, “I will not force myself on you. I would never do such a thing to any woman, royal or not, Nightfall or not. But I cannot allow you to leave the royal chambers on our wedding night. There will be talk, and I can’t afford such talk right now.”
“Of course your concern is still about your reputation,” I spat. “Fuck your reputation! This isn’t royal politics. This is my life.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “Even if you deny it, those ‘royal politics’ you denounce are your life now. For better or for worse, we are a unit now. Our power as leaders is affected by our reputations, both separate and together. In this moment of transition, after a Challenge, my reputation cannot waver. Now go get ready for bed.”
I blinked. “What?”
“If we aren’t consummating our marriage” –somehow he made those words sound deliciously erotic— “I’ll be going to sleep. I’m tired of this conversation.”
A lump rose in my throat, and the prickling behind my eyes worsened. This entire affair was degrading enough. I wasn’t going to make it worse by letting him see me cry. I rushed into the ensuite bathroom and slammed the door behind me. In the immense, luxurious space, I cut the hot water on and let the steam fill the room, surrounding me with warmth like an embrace. Only when I was certain the king wasn’t going to barge in with me did I let the first tear fall.
