Chase Dubois.
That got his full attention. His head tilted. "What?"
I stared at the floor again, shame heating my face. "Turns out… my future wife…" I swallowed. "She… prefers…"
"Speak up!" Father barked.
"My brother is trying to say that his little dragon princess… likes it rough." Greyson voice made look away. I didn't even know he had entered the main room.
He leaned in the doorway to the inner chamber, a bag slung over his shoulder, a smug, terrible smile on his face.
"She's developed a taste for it, you see. Taste for the excitement. And dear Chase here…" He gestured lazily at me. "…can't exactly deliver the goods."
I shut my eyes, a groan escaping me. It was the sound of pure humiliation.
Father's furious gaze swung between us.
Greyson strolled further into the room, enjoying his moment. "So, my brother's right, Father. Without me—your useless, disappointing son—your precious deal crumbles. You need me or at least, my cock."
He stopped in front of Alpha Kale. "So. Do you still want me to leave?"
The silence was thicker than blood. Father stared at him, his Alpha power pressing down on the room. Then, with a sound of utter disgust, he waved a dismissive hand and turned on his heel, storming out.
Mother gave us one last, pained look " Don't be late for breakfast with the Winchesters" and with that, she hurried after him.
The door clicked shut.
Greyson turned to me, the smug smile returning. Son of a bitch!
"Aw. You didn't have to defend me to Daddy. It's almost sweet, how you still—"
BANG.
The sound was shockingly loud in the quiet room.
Greyson's smile vanished. He looked down at his leg, at the neat, suddenly blooming red hole in his trousers just above the knee. A second later, the pain seemed to hit his brain. He cried out, collapsing to the floor with a crash.
"What the HELL, Chase!" he screamed, clutching his leg, his face white in pain.
I wheeled myself closer. In my hand, the small silver pistol felt warm.
I stopped beside him where he writhed on the floor. I leaned down, reached out, and gently cupped his cheek, making him look at me. His eyes were wide with shock and agony.
"Don't," I said softly, calmly, "ever call her a whore again. Do you understand me?"
I let go of his face, turned my chair, and headed for the door.
He was gasping, swearing, his breaths coming in ragged sobs of pain.
"It's just a tiny bit of silver bullet," I said, not looking back as I opened the door. "Six hours of excruciating pain. Then you'll be good as new." I paused in the doorway. "I'll tell our mother you're not feeling well, little brother. And hope to God, I can undo the damage you did to the poor girl or so help me God, I am taking out your other knee cap"
I closed the door behind me
**
Tilly Ann)
The dining hall was too loud, too bright, and smelled overwhelmingly of roasted meat and bread.
I was stuck in between my brother's elbow and the brooding mass that was my fiancé, Chase Dubois.
He hadn't spoken a word all evening. Just pushed food around his plate like it had offended him.
Across the table, Talia Goodworm—a young girl from one of the noble families —was practically laying her head on her hand to get a better look at Chase.
I saw it. Everyone saw it. She was everything I was supposed to be: soft, quiet, obsessed with lace patterns and the proper way to pour fucking tea.
And Chase, the miserable bastard, just sat there. Handsome and silent and ignoring me.
I was still angry at him. For how he made me feel.
So to escape. I leaned forward and dropped my voice into my father's conversation about border tariffs with the Lycan King.
I made one sharp, accurate point about grain supply lines and it made the men paused to listen to me.
Lady Alphonse, Talia's mother, gave a tinkling little laugh over my speech. "Oh, Princess, let the men puzzle over such dreary things. It's so unfeminine. It will put your future husband right off his meal."
The table went quiet. My father's eyes flashed in anger, he didn't raise me to be censored in my own dinner table. My mother opened her mouth to rebuke lady Alphonse.
But Chase spoke first.
His voice was calm and clear, and it cut through everything like a knife. He didn't even look up from his plate.
"I know your little mind couldn't possibly wrap around topics like politics," he said, his tone conversational. "But Matilda's beautiful mind would put every man at this table to shame. Including mine. Her depth of understanding amazes me." He finally lifted his eyes, not to Lady Alphonse, but to me. A proud spark was in them. "So if she wants to talk politics, then she's going to fucking talk about politics."
You could have heard a pin drop. Lady Alphonse's smile froze, then melted into a nervous sip of wine.
"Thanks, dipshit," I muttered, my face suddenly hot. "But I'm quite capable of defending myself."