Page 57 of Sold to Three Alpha Kings

“You’ve asked your question. Can I ask mine?”

“Of course.”

“Well, it’s more of a request than a question really.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Can you show me around your territory?”

My lips curl into a mischievous grin. “You didn’t even have to ask; I was going to offer to do that.”

“Then what’re we waiting for?” She smiles broadly. “Take me there.”

***

The next morning, we ride to my territory, and for reasons I can’t explain, I find myself being nervous about her meeting my people.

This isn’t because I think they won’t accept her. No. I guess it’s because deep down, I’m afraid she’ll find them too boring, especially since she’s already met with the fun Pack.

Trident isn’t loud or made up of lively, jovial shifters like Forestguard. It isn’t grand the way Snowpeak carries itself either.

My people keep to themselves, mostly—fishermen and craftsmen and quiet farmers who’ve spent generations learning that peace between three territories requires someone willing to do the unglamorous work of keeping it.

We don’t throw parties. We don’t perform loyalty the way some packs do. We simply show up for each other, day after day, without much fanfare.

I worry, riding in, that she’ll find it dull after Wayne’s forest full of laughter and waterfalls.

To my surprise, when we arrive, she’s actually smiling, watching my people work with real attention.

Fishermen are mending nets along the shore. Women are weaving baskets from reeds gathered at low tide. An old craftsman is carving something delicate out of driftwood near his cottage door.

Nobody makes a fuss over her arrival. They nod, respectful, and go back to their work, and I watch something in her posture ease at the lack of spectacle.

“They’re not staring,” she says quietly, almost surprised.

“They don’t have much use for staring. Work still needs doing, whether or not their King’s mate just rode into their village.”

“I like that.” She says it simply, without elaboration, but I feel the weight of the compliment anyway.

We spend the afternoon walking the shoreline together as I show her around. She enjoys the scenery and won’t stop smiling at my people. A handful of noble men from the Pack even gifted her a chest later during the day.

She accepted it with warmth in her eyes and thanked them for being so thoughtful.

By evening, Wayne and Chris arrive at my territory after receiving an invitation from me.

They join us for dinner in my own hall—modest by comparison to the others, wooden beams instead of marble, simple fare instead of anything ceremonial.

Charlize seems more at ease here than I’ve seen her anywhere else, laughing freely at something Wayne says, teasing Chris when he tries too hard to maintain his usual composure at a table clearly built for informality rather than protocol.

“They say you have ice in your veins,” she says to Chris, watching him from across the table. “But sometimes even you have to loosen up a bit.”

“That’s ironic coming from a woman who locked herself up in her room for days, refusing to see anyone,” he replies.

For more than a few seconds, the hall is silent. Glances are exchanged, and although I know he meant it as a joke, I sit there hoping she catches the humor instead of getting offended.

“That’s a good one, Chris,” she says finally, voice devoid of anger. “You can have this moment, but I promise you, I’ll have mine.”

Wayne hurts out laughing while I exhale softly, grateful that a crisis was avoided.