The heavy quiet of the study was a welcome reprieve, a fortress of solitude. Christopher sat behind his formidable oak desk, a leather-bound tome open before him. His gaze was fixed on a passage about ancient treaties, yet his mind was a thousand leagues away. He hoped Jackline would stop trying to bridge the chasm between them, stop offering gestures of peace—like the coffee she had brought earlier. He wasn't sure he could maintain his mask of indifference if she pressed any closer. She hated him; it was a necessary shield, a bulwark for his plans. Her contempt was the only safe dynamic they could share.
The study door swung open, and Alex sauntered in, a perpetual, infuriatingly playful smile plastered on his handsome face. "Well, well. Where's your mate, Chris?"
Christopher's focus snapped from the book, his blue eyes narrowing to a deadly gaze. The growl in his voice was instinctual, a low rumble of warning. "Don't call her that."
Alex chuckled, entirely unbothered. "But it's the truth, isn't it? She even brought you coffee. Such a caring, devoted wife." He sat in the chair opposite the desk, crossing one leg over the other with casual elegance.
"Get out, Alex." Christopher's voice was dangerously even. "I am not in the mood for your games."
"Someone's in a foul mood," Alex said, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned back. "But before I leave, a small matter of courtly business. My sister, Damaris… well, she thought it a splendid idea to introduce the royal consorts to your wife this evening." He paused, his brown eyes glinting, waiting for the inevitable reaction.
The crystal glass Christopher had been holding suddenly fractured, the fine glass shattering into jagged pieces in his hand, the water pooling onto the polished wood. The pressure of his grip had been immense, a sudden, uncontrolled flash of raw, primal anger.
Alex was satisfied, his smirk widening. He leaned forward slightly, adding salt to the freshly opened wound. "And you know my sister. She handpicked only the very best at their job. A meticulous selection process, I hear." He punctuated the comment with a suggestive wink.
Christopher slowly unclenched his fist, blood dripping silently onto the parchment below. "If she wants a consort, how is that any of my business?" His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, a performance he hoped Alex believed.
"Oh, I just thought you should know," Alex chuckled, completely relaxed. "Right now, as we speak, I imagine the selection ceremony is underway. But really, it's your fault, you know. You haven't consummated the marriage. I can't blame the girl for being curious, can I?"
Christopher's knuckles turned white. He clenched his fist so hard the fresh cuts reopened, more blood welling. A low, guttural growl ripped from his throat, the sound of a beast straining at its leash. "I said, leave."
Alex merely shrugged, rising smoothly from his seat. "Suit yourself, Alpha King." He sauntered out of the study, closing the door softly behind him.
Christopher remained seated, staring blankly at the chair where Alex had sat. 'I don't care about her,' he repeated in the silence of his mind, a mantra he desperately needed to believe. He only needed her for his grand, complicated plan, and then he would be free, and so would she. Yet, something deep down, a dark, possessive current he refused to name, was stirring uncomfortably at Alex's words.
What is she thinking? he thought, the question a jolt to his system.
He forced his attention back to the book, attempting to focus on the text, but the words swam before his eyes. His mind kept conjuring images—unbidden, unwanted—of her choosing another man's company. Had she chosen yet?
Suddenly, he rose from the chair, the movement stiff and unwilling. He didn't know what impulse drove him—concern? Duty? Pride? He refused to call it jealousy. He headed toward her chambers with long, furious strides. The corridor felt too long, the silence deafening.
He didn't knock. He simply flung the heavy door open with a force that sent it slamming against the stone wall. The air in the room was warm, scented with expensive perfume and something heavier, muskier. The scene before him froze in place: the gathered men and women standing naked, their robes discarded, and in the center of it all, Jackline, her startled green eyes wide with shock as they met his icy blue ones. He gritted his teeth, the beast within him raging against its cage.