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And now, in this beautifully decorated ballroom, with enough flowers to make a honeybee go wild, my bride is standing in front of me, saying she won’t go through with the ceremony.

If there was any chance of keeping this confrontation between us, it’s gone now.

“No, Augustus. You’ve been nothing but terrible to me from the moment you saved me at the festival.” Mylah stares daggers at me, the tears now breaking free and trailing down her face. She looks hauntingly, tragically beautiful. “Making me think you felt something for me? Then leaving me alone for a week? Treating me like a prisoner, playing fucking—” she cuts off, gesturing at her temple before she says, “psychological warfare?”

It’s never what I meant to do. I never meant to make her feel like that.

And I thought we understood each other. Thought that we were on the same page about this, after talking.

I stand stunned in front of her as the rest of the room looks on. I can only imagine what they’re thinking—first, the alpha king and his betrothed make the declaration that the wedding is off. Then, a new engagement comes to light a day later, this time to an omega nobody has heard of. Investigation quickly reveals her to be the omega saved from sacrifice at the festival.

Then, at said wedding, which already had enough buzz around it, that omega—the one from nowhere, outskirts—stands at the front of the room and refuses the union.

Someone is standing up to the alpha king.

An omega is standing up to the alpha king, in front of his entire pack.

I should care about what they’re thinking. But right now, the only thing I care about is whatever happened for Mylah to change her mind like this.

Shaking her head again, Mylah huffs in disappointment and drops the bouquet she was holding to the ground. I hear the echo of it, the flowers hitting the floor, like it’s a bomb.

She turns. She takes three steps away from me, her heels clicking loudly. She doesn’t look back.

I stare at her back, the smooth skin there. Skin that I touched, that I kissed, licked, feeling the feverish warmth of her heat. Mylah is the strongest omega I’ve ever met—the strongest shifter I’ve ever met, period.

I’ve already said all of this to her, at her bedside, holding her as she recovered from the concussion. Taking her hand in mine and asked her to marry me. Nearly weeping in relief when she said yes.

But maybe what she needs now is for me to say it in front of everyone. If that’s what she wants, then I’ll do it without question.

“Mylah,” I say, voice level but with the slightest waver. Like everything else in this interaction, my voice rings out through the ballroom, echoing off the tall ceilings and bouncing back grandly. When I say the next part, I can still hear her name ringing out in my voice. “Please, come back. I am in love with you.”

Chapter 41 - Mylah

Augustus does not compel me, but I stop anyway at the sound of his words.

I don’t want to. Or, at least, there are parts of me that want to keep walking, leave this ballroom, this castle, be done with this once and for all.

What do I need with an alpha who only comes to me when it’s convenient for him? Who only comes after me when I deign to try an escape?

I’d expected him to say something about us being fated mates. About it being in the stars for us to be together. Maybe there’s something romantic about that—something deep and true—but I’ve started to think that maybe the real beauty would be in choosing the other person.

Maybe that’s blasphemy.

I don’t care.

And I’d thought he’d mention that bond. Involve the lunar goddesses in this. Say it in front of everyone the way the priest did.

But he didn’t say we were fated.

Please, come back. I am in love with you.

Could it be possible? Could it be possible that he’s in love with me?

Turning around, I plan to glare at him but find that he’s not standing where I expected. In fact, he’s not standing at all.

He’s dropped to one knee in the middle of the aisle. Everyone watching. This has got to be the most dramatic thing that has ever happened in this pack.

“Mylah.” My name breaks in his throat, and it’s a tug straight through my heart. I can see it in his eyes, what I feel. That bond that will always be there between us, no matter how far away we are. If he were to touch another woman, I would know. If another man breathed on me, it would be torture for him.