(Olivia’s POV)
His fingers found my most sensitive spot, stroking and rubbing until I was gasping.
I closed my eyes tightly, too embarrassed to watch what he was doing to me. The bathroom mirror would reflect everything.
"Look at me," Alexander demanded, his Alpha voice impossible to resist.
I opened my eyes to find his gaze locked on mine, his pupils blown wide with desire. The scent of my arousal seemed to drive him wild, his movements becoming more urgent.
His hardness pressed more insistently against me, and I knew he was close to taking me right there on the counter.
Suddenly, I remembered the pregnancy test hidden in my closet. My hand flew to his chest, pushing against the solid wall of muscle.
"Alexander, we... we should get ready for dinner," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.
Alexander's expression changed instantly at my refusal. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold gaze that sent shivers down my spine.
I fidgeted under his scrutiny, my back pressed against the cold bathroom counter. Part of me wanted to explain, to tell him about our baby growing inside me, but the thought of that woman in our den held me back. Who was she to him? Why was he acting so differently?
Without a word, Alexander released his grip on me and stepped back. The sudden absence of his heat left me feeling vulnerable and small.
"Tidy up and come downstairs for dinner," he said, his voice flat and emotionless.
He turned away, not waiting for my response. The bathroom door closed behind him with a soft click that somehow felt more final than a slam.
I slid to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees. Tears threatened to spill, but I blinked them back furiously. Alexander had never spoken to me like that before. Even when I had made mistakes or annoyed him, he had always treated me with affection and patience. What had changed?
The thought of going downstairs and possibly seeing that woman—Victoria—sitting at our dining table made my stomach turn. I couldn't do it. I wouldn't do it.
Instead, I retreated to our bed, curling into a tight ball on Alexander's side, inhaling his scent from the pillows. The familiar smell of pine and spice that usually comforted me now only intensified my distress.
I don't know how long I lay there, lost in my thoughts and fears. Time seemed to stretch and blur until a soft knock at the door pulled me back to reality.
"Queen?" Martha's gentle voice called from the hallway. "King Alexander is waiting for you at dinner."
I didn't answer, hoping she would go away.
The door opened slowly, and Martha peeked in. Her kind face was etched with concern when she saw me lying on the bed.
"Queen, you must come down," she urged, her voice barely above a whisper. "The King is growing impatient. He says if you don't come, you'll go without dinner."
I scoffed, sitting up abruptly. "I should be the one who's angry, not him! How dare he bring another she-wolf to our den? And then expect me to sit and have dinner like everything's normal?"
Martha approached cautiously, sitting at the edge of the bed.
"Queen, please," she pleaded. "You know how the King gets when he's angry. I worry for you."
"Who is she, Martha?" I demanded, leaning forward. "Who is this Victoria, and why did Alexander bring her here? Tell me the truth."
Martha's eyes darted away from mine. "I don't know much, Queen. She arrived shortly before you returned from university."
"I don't believe Alexander would do anything to hurt you, Queen," Martha added, her voice sincere. "I've known him for decades, since he was just a prince. He's always been honorable."
"Then why won't he tell me who she is?" I challenged, my voice cracking slightly.
"Perhaps you should ask him directly," Martha suggested, standing up. "But you can't do that if you're hiding up here."
She was right. Hiding wouldn't solve anything. If I wanted answers, I needed to face Alexander—and possibly this Victoria woman—head-on.
"Fine," I said, sliding off the bed. "I'll go down."
I quickly checked my appearance in the mirror, wiping away any trace of tears. I wouldn't give either of them the satisfaction of seeing me upset.
I followed Martha downstairs. To my relief, the dining room contained only Alexander, sitting regally at the head of the long table. No Victoria in sight.
He looked up as I entered, his face impassive. The table was set for two, with steaming plates of venison and roasted vegetables waiting.
I took my seat to his right, avoiding his gaze. The silence between us was deafening, broken only by the soft clink of silverware against china.
Taking my frustration out on my food, I stabbed at the venison with unnecessary force, imagining it was Victoria's perfect face.
"Are you trying to murder your dinner?" Alexander asked, his voice surprisingly playful.
I glanced up to find a hint of amusement in his eyes. His sudden shift in mood caught me off guard.
"Eat properly, little one," he admonished gently, reaching over to pinch my cheek like he used to when I was younger.
I swatted his hand away, irritated by his condescension. "Don't treat me like a child," I snapped. "One minute you're cold as ice, the next you're pinching my cheeks. What's going on with you, Alexander? You're not acting like yourself."
His smile faltered, a fleeting shadow crossing his face. For a moment, he looked almost... sad? But the expression was gone so quickly I wondered if I'd imagined it.
"Just eat your dinner, Olivia," he said, dodging my question. "The venison is from a stag I hunted myself before the border conflict."
I wanted to press him further, but something in his tone made me hesitate. Instead, I took a small bite of the meat. It was delicious, of course. Alexander had always been an excellent hunter.
"Do you like it?" he asked, watching me intently.
I nodded, despite myself. "It's good."
A genuine smile spread across his face, warming his golden eyes. Without warning, he reached across the table and added more vegetables to my plate.
"You need to eat more greens," he said, his voice tender. "You're too thin. Have you been eating properly while I was away?"
The concern in his voice melted some of my anger. This was the Alexander I knew, the one who always cared for me, sometimes to the point of overprotectiveness.
"I can serve myself," I protested weakly.
"I know," he said, still smiling. "But I like taking care of you. Slow down when you eat, or you'll choke."
My wolf, Cora, practically purred at his attention. She had missed our mate terribly while he was away fighting, and despite my human concerns, she was simply happy to have him close again.
The rest of dinner passed in a strange mix of tension and tenderness. Alexander continued to fuss over my eating habits, making sure I took small bites and didn't rush.
By the time we finished our meal, my earlier anger had mostly dissipated, replaced by confusion. How could he be so sweet and attentive if he was hiding something from me?
After dinner, I followed Alexander to the living room, where he pulled me onto his lap as we sat on the couch. His arms encircled me protectively, and I leaned my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
Maybe I had overreacted. Maybe Victoria really was just a friend or a political ally. Maybe everything was fine.
With that thought, I remembered my pregnancy. Now might be the perfect time to tell him. We were alone, reconciled, and calm. Surely he would be happy about our baby?
"Alexander, I need to tell you something," I began, sitting up to look at him.
Before I could continue, Martha appeared in the doorway, looking apologetic for interrupting our moment.
"Excuse me, King Alexander," she said with a small bow. "You left your phone on the dining table."
She approached us, holding out Alexander's sleek black phone. As she handed it to me, it began to ring. I glanced at the screen and felt my blood turn to ice.
Victoria.
Her name flashed on the display, the letters seeming to mock me. I stared at the phone, my hand trembling slightly.
At that moment, Alexander emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. Water droplets still clung to his chest, highlighting the defined muscles and battle scars.
The phone rang again, insistent. Without thinking, I held it out to him.
Alexander took it without hesitation, his face betraying no emotion as he answered the call. "Victoria."
I moved closer, straining to hear the woman's voice on the other end of the line. Her tone was soft, sweet, and undeniably intimate.
"Alex, can you come over? I was scratched by a silver dagger, it hurts, I'm afraid of silver poisoning."
Alex? Nobody called Alexander "Alex." Not even me. The familiarity of the nickname was like a knife to my heart.
But what truly devastated me was Alexander's immediate response: "Okay, I'll be right there."
He ended the call and turned to me, his face a mask of indifference. "Go to sleep early; I'm heading out."
The world seemed to tilt beneath my feet. He was leaving me, at night, to rush to another woman's side? After we'd just spent two weeks apart?
"Why?" I demanded, my voice rising with incredulity. "It's a she-wolf, and it’s late night, and you're really going?"
Alexander didn't answer. He simply walked to the closet and began pulling out fresh clothes.
I followed him, my whole body shaking with anger and hurt. "Who is she, Alexander? Tell me the truth! What is she to you? Why are you running to her in the middle of the night?"
He pulled on a pair of jeans, then a black t-shirt, still not acknowledging my questions. His silence was more painful than any words could have been.
"Alexander!" I grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at me. "Talk to me!"
He stared down at me, his golden eyes unreadable. Then, with a gentleness that somehow made it worse, he patted my shoulder condescendingly.
"There are matters you wouldn't understand," he said quietly, the implication of my youth and inexperience cutting through me like glass.
I moved to block his path to the door, desperation making me bold. "You can't just leave like this! Not without an explanation! I'm your mate, Alexander. Your Queen. If you're hiding something from me, I deserve to know what it is!"
For a long moment, he simply looked at me, his expression softening slightly. Something like regret flickered in his eyes.
"Prepare yourself," he said finally, his voice carrying the weight of his years of command, "because we will be severing our mate bond soon."
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