“Wouldn’t that depend on the Alpha? Not all of us are scheming villains twirling imaginary moustaches, you know.”
Her lips twitched, though she tried to smother the reaction. “A curious image. I can’t quite picture you with one.”
“Too distracting, I imagine,” Kaelen replied solemnly. “I’d never get anything done with everyone staring.”
A giggle slipped free—soft, fleeting, but genuine. It caught her off guard, her blue eyes narrowing slightly as if chastising herself for the lapse.
Kaelen arched a brow. “What have they done to you that even laughter feels like you’ve broken a rule?”
She met his gaze and shook her head faintly, though there was no real bite in her expression. “Persistent isn’t a strong enough word for you.”
“Determined, then?” he suggested, a playful lilt in his voice. “But only when I sense the potential for something extraordinary.”
Her gaze lingered on his, the sharpness in her eyes softening just a fraction. “You certainly are determined to prove you’re different from other Alphas.”
“Maybe because I am.”
Skepticism flickered across her face. Kaelen caught the slight tightening of her jaw, the guarded tilt of her chin.
“It’s my understanding that Alphas seek to control Omegas at every opportunity,” she said, the steel returning to her voice.
Her words shouldn’t have stung, but there was something about the certainty in her tone that tightened his chest.
She wasn’t wary of him.
She was wary of what he represented.
She’d seen him not as Kaelen, not even as Prince Kaelendrin, but just another Alpha—another link in the societal chain keeping her bound.
The worst part? She wasn’t entirely wrong.
Too often, Alphas twisted their strength into control, warping protection into possession, leaving a trail of broken trust and fear in their wake. He couldn’t fault her for the wall she kept firmly in place. The damage ran too deep, woven into the very fabric of how Betas and Omegas viewed their kind.
It turned tenderness into suspicion. Care into coercion. Every gesture weighed against a history of cruelty.
He hated it—the way the worst of them had poisoned the well for those who sought to be better. But her words felt like a gauntlet thrown at his feet, a challenge not just to refute, but to rise beyond the prejudice of his birthright.
If she judged him, let it be for his actions, not the failures of those before him. If the wall between them cracked, even slightly, let it be because he earned her trust—not demanded it.
A slow, teasing smile curved his lips. “We Alphas are a varied lot, Princess. Not so easily defined by one brushstroke. And yet you paint us all in one broad, dark colour.” His voice softened, warmth tempering the edge. “Tell me—do you think that’s fair?”
She looked away, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Fair or not, it’s the truth. Your kind takes what it wants, whether by charm or force. I’ve heard the stories.”
Kaelen let the silence breathe before speaking again, his voice low. “What about writing a different story, then?”
Her gaze snapped back to his—guarded, but searching. “A story written by you, an Alpha?”
“A story writtentogether.” He turned her in a slow step, holding her gaze. “One where trust isn’t a risk, but a choice.”
She faltered—barely a blink of an eye, but enough. Then, just as quickly, she righted herself, her poise snapping back into place. “And who decides how that story ends?”
Kaelen tilted his head, watching her for a moment. “The best stories don’t have endings. They grow. They change. And everyone involved gets to write them.”
A breath caught in her throat; so subtle, so brief, she likely thought he hadn’t noticed, but he did.
Something had shifted.
Not surrender—not yet, but something softer, more uncertain. Something that would ignite a desire to learn more, he hoped.
