Chapter 26

LUXURIA.

His eyes narrowed slightly as if he was reading my thoughts. Then he broke the silence. "What do you think of becoming allies with your father's pack?"

The question hit me like a blow. My stomach twisted into knots, and for a moment, I wasn't sure if I had heard him correctly. My father's pack?

I blinked, trying to mask the flood of emotions that surged through me.

Anger. Resentment. Pain.

My father had cast me aside as if I were nothing more than a worthless burden. He hadn't cared for me, hadn't protected me. The memories of his cruelty were still raw, burning like a wound that refused to heal.

My father's pack? He wanted Parthe as an ally?

My breath caught in my throat. This was my chance to ruin them. To finally take revenge for all the hurt and betrayal they had inflicted upon me.

I could ruin them. I could tell Parthe anything—expose their weaknesses, twist the truth, make them seem unworthy of an alliance. The words were there, just waiting to be spoken, ready to tear my father's pack apart for all the hurt and betrayal they had inflicted on me.

But should I?

My mind raced, my hands trembling slightly as I clenched them together in my lap. Would destroying my father's pack make me feel any better? Would it undo the years of neglect?

I glanced up at Parthe, searching for any hint of what he was thinking, but his face remained as cold and unreadable as ever. Why did he even care about my opinion on this?

"I…" The word caught in my throat, barely a whisper, before I stopped, unsure of how to proceed. I couldn't just blurt out the first thing that came to mind. My emotions were too raw, too tangled.

"Why?" I asked instead, forcing my voice to steady, though it felt like walking on thin ice. "Why does what I think matter?"

Parthe's gaze never left mine, his dark eyes locking me in place. "Your father reached out. He proposed the alliance." He took a step closer, "I want to know where you stand."

My father's pack was powerful, well-trained, and strategically located. An alliance with them could strengthen Parthe's position, and that was something he would never take lightly because the alliance could significantly strengthen his position.

But my father was also ruthless, manipulative, and I knew firsthand how he could turn on people easily. Was this just another one of his schemes?

My heart pounded in my chest. This was my chance to exact revenge, to repay my father for every cold, uncaring moment of my life. But at what cost? And, more importantly, do I want to drag Alpha Parthe into that mess?

If I give him my go-ahead, I would be binding him to my father. But if I lie, if I manipulate the truth, I might be saving him from a dangerous alliance.

Parthe's voice cut through my thoughts. "Luxuria. Answer me."

I forced the words past my lips, "Yes," I whispered, "You can make him your ally."

The words tasted bitter on my tongue, but there was no going back now. I had made my choice.

Parthe's eyes lingered on mine for what felt like an eternity, cold and calculating as if weighing my answer, his eyes narrowing. But he didn't question me further, which bothered me.

I expected him to ask some more questions. Maybe answering them and giving him reasons for my response would ease my guilt.

With a curt nod, he turned away, walking toward his study table.

"That being confirmed, we leave tomorrow at dawn." I heard him say and I was confused.

"Leave? Where are we leaving to?" I asked, standing to my feet.

"Sit, Luxuria. I never asked you to stand," He said in the most commanding tone ever. I felt offended, but I dared not question him.

I sat quietly.

"We will be heading to your father's pack tomorrow to discuss the final terms of our alliance." He said, his back still turned on me as he scanned through some books and scrolls scattered on his table.

"Shouldn't he be the one coming to you for that? He is the one seeking alliances, not you," I tried to protest.

I didn't want to return to that pack for any reason. The hurt and pains I have been trying to heal from would only resurface, and I do not know how I'd be able to tame those feelings in order not to snap.

"Quite intelligent. You know a thing or two about politics, don't you?"

I couldn't see his face, but I knew there was a smirk plastered on his lips.

I remained quiet.

He walked towards me. Slowly. Intimidatingly. Deliberately. As if to make me nervous. And it was working. Every inch of me was on high alert, my pulse pounding in my throat.

"I chose to grace them with my presence, little mate," Parthe said, his voice low and dark, like a rumble of thunder before the storm.

I could barely breathe, my fingers tightening on the soft sheets beneath me as his words were suffocating me.

And then, his hand moved.

His grip on my hair was sudden, fingers tangling in my curls as he pulled me up to my feet. My scalp tingled with a sharp ache, but it wasn't painful—it was deliberate, designed to make me weak, and gods help me, it worked.

A shiver coursed down my spine as my body betrayed me, responding to the pull, the heat of him so close I could feel the warmth of his skin ghosting over mine.

I shuddered.

His fingers twisted my hair, forcing my chin upward until I had no choice but to meet his gaze. Those dark, cold eyes locked on mine, filled with a hunger I couldn't ignore. I wanted to look away, to escape the intensity of his stare, but something in me faltered. My breath caught in my throat, and before I knew it, my gaze dropped, shame mixing with the heat simmering under my skin.

I couldn't look at him. He was too much—his presence, his power, the way he controlled me with nothing more than a look and a touch.

"I thought you might need to pay your former pack a visit, too," he murmured, his voice deceptively soft. But there was something dangerous beneath his words.

Return to that place?

The memories clawed at me, ripping at the fragile walls I had built around myself.

The last thing I wanted was to go back there, to relive the hurt, the pain of being cast aside and betrayed.

His fingers tugged gently on my hair, and I parted my lips, wanting to speak, to beg him not to make me go. But before the words could form, his lips hovered near mine—so close I could feel the warmth of his breath mixing with mine.

I was dying for him to close the gap. Every inch of me burned with the need for him to give me just a taste of what he dangled so cruelly before me. My body tensed, leaning ever so slightly forward, my lips parting further in anticipation.

But then, he moved. His lips bypassed mine, brushing against the shell of my ear, the warmth of his breath sending a wave of desire crashing through me.

"Or," he whispered, his voice dark and seductive, "do you have a problem with that?"

I froze. My thoughts scrambled. I knew better than to say I had a problem with it. I could feel the warning in his tone, the unspoken consequences that he lay before me.

His fingers slid down, tracing the curve of my jaw, soft but deliberate, as if savoring the power he held over me.

I couldn't breathe. His touch was a firebrand on my skin, leaving a trail of heat as his hand drifted lower down the line of my neck, grazing my exposed collarbone.

The dress I wore left little to the imagination. Those were the only kind of dresses they had kept in my closet. I had come to his pack with nothing of mine. Now, I am being made to wear what they wanted me to, and I could feel his eyes raking over me, lingering on the exposed skin of my chest. His fingers moved lazily, teasing the edge of my cleavage, and I bit my lip, fighting the whimper building in my throat.

Parthe was toying with me. His eyes burned into mine, dark and possessive, as if he could see every ounce of desire coursing through me, the way I ached for his touch.

But he wasn't going to give me what I wanted.

No, he was far too cruel for that.