“Freedom,” she repeated softly. “A dangerous thing to desire, isn’t it?”
Alarik heard the bitterness beneath her words, and it unsettled him. She wasn’t speaking of freedom as an abstract idea—she was speaking of it as something the world had denied her.
The music swelled, but Alarik barely heard it. “Only to those who fear losing control.”
Her gaze was sharp beneath the veil of courtesy. “As an Alpha, don’tyoufear it?”
“I’ve known freedom, and the consequence that follows.” His eyes held hers. “I’m not sure one exists without the other.”
Their steps slowed, drawing them closer, though he couldn’t tell if it was the dance or this conversation pulling them in.
“Have you ever felt free?” Alarik asked, his voice low, careful. “Even for a moment?”
For a heartbeat, she said nothing. Then, her gaze drifted toward the open-air balcony beyond the ballroom, visible behind the rows of arched windows.
“Once,” she said. “When I was younger, I rode to the cliffs before dawn. I stayed long enough to watch the sun spill over the water. In that hour, there was no court, no titles, no expectations. Just the wind, sea, and sky.”
She looked back at him, and he saw the wistfulness in her eyes had receded, replaced by cold, hard truth.
“But such moments rarely last,” she whispered.
“Which is why they matter.”
Her stare sharpened. “You sound like someone who’s had his fair share of freedom.”
“Not as much as you’d think.”
She scoffed. “I thought Alphas could take whatever freedom they wanted.”
His mouth curved, but there was no humour in it. “Not even Alphas can have everything, Princess Reiyana.”
Their steps slowed, the space between them narrowing. Her eyes held his, unfaltering and searching, as if she could see past the surface, past what he allowed the world to know.
“Sometimes,” she murmured, “I wonder if duty is freedom’s greatest adversary.”
His jaw flexed. The thought struck deeper than he expected.
“Duty can be heavy,” he said, “but it doesn’t have to be a cage.”
Her brow arched slightly. “Spoken like a man who knows how to step outside of it.”
“I know how to carry it. But stepping outside of it? That’s harder.”
Her breath caught, though she masked it quickly. But Alarik noticed the faint rise and fall of her chest—the silent weight she carried.
“And you, Princess, if freedom came to your door . . . would you take it?”
Her eyes drifted away as she hesitated. “I’d like to believe I would, but the things we desire most are often the hardest to reach.”
Alarik’s grip on her lingered as the music slowed, the final note on a stringed instrument stretching. The dance ended in a dip—a formal flourish every couple on the floor followed. He moved instinctively, guiding her into position, his hand firm at her waist before sliding inward, forearm bracing against the small of her back.
The princess followed his lead, her spine bowing effortlessly as he lowered her. The motion was seamless, as though she’d always known how to fit against him.
The shift brought them closer. His nose nearly grazed her décolletage, where a smattering of golden freckles lay just above the swell of her cleavage, hidden from view until now. The sight caught him off guard, and something dangerous stirred low in his stomach.
The warm scent of jasmine and honey curled around him, rich and heady, stirring the instincts buried deep in his blood. Her fingers flexed against his shoulder, nails grazing the fabric of his jacket—a subtle, unthinking motion. Alpha and Omega, drawn to each other by threads neither of them dared name yet, the bond whispering beneath every touch, every heartbeat, every trembling pause.
The final notes faded into silence as Alarik pulled her upright. Now standing, their bodies aligned once more, the lingering warmth of the dance still between them.
