15: Theodore

The implications of that statement hung in the air between us. I thought again of Benjamin Thorne, the werewolf who had hurt her, who had likely used his status as Alpha to control rather than protect. Anger stirred within me, but I kept it carefully contained, aware of how she might interpret any display of aggression.

"Aeson has no desire to dominate Artemis," I said softly. "He respects her strength. We both do."

Emma studied me, her expression difficult to read in the diffused moonlight. "That's... unusual, but appreciated. Most male Alphas expect submission, especially from their mates."

"I am not most male Alphas," I replied simply. "And I've spent nearly two centuries watching what dominance without respect has done to this kingdom."

Her eyes widened slightly at the mention of my age. Despite being king, my relative youth by Lycan standards wasn't widely known outside court circles. At 175, I was barely considered mature by my species' reckoning.

"Two centuries," she repeated, a question implicit in her tone.

"I've had a long time to consider what kind of leader I want to be," I explained. "What kind of mate I would hope to find, if the Moon Goddess ever blessed me with one."

The words emerged more revealing than I'd intended, displaying a vulnerability I rarely allowed myself. But something about this clearing, about the honest simplicity of our wolves' connection, made diplomatic filters seem unnecessary, even dishonest.

"And what kind is that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I turned to face her fully, wanting her to read the truth in my expression. "Someone strong enough to stand beside me, not behind me. Someone who challenges me when I'm wrong and supports me when I'm right." I paused, gathering courage for the next admission. "Someone who doesn't need me to be perfect, just sincere in trying to be better."

Her breath caught, a small sound in the quiet night. For a moment, I feared I'd said too much, pushed too far too soon. But then she nodded, a single, deliberate movement.

"That sounds... better than most arrangements," she said carefully.

"Better than what you had before?" The question slipped out before I could reconsider its wisdom.

Emma's gaze dropped to her hands, which had curled into loose fists in her lap. "Benjamin didn't want a partner. He wanted a possession." Her voice had hardened, an edge of old pain sharpening her words. "He expected complete submission in everything – pack matters, personal decisions, even thoughts."

I waited, giving her space to continue or retreat as she needed. The lake before us rippled gently as a night breeze skimmed its surface, breaking the perfect reflection of stars into scattered fragments of light.

"When I questioned him," she continued after a moment, "he said that was what being a proper mate meant – surrendering my will to his. That my resistance proved I was defective." Her laugh this time was hollow, nothing like the warm sound from moments before. "Turns out, I was just bonded to the wrong wolf."

The admission hung between us, heavy with implication. I felt Aeson stir within me, growling at the mention of the wolf who had hurt our mate. This time, I allowed a measure of that anger to show, knowing she needed to see it directed at the right target.

"Benjamin Thorne was wrong," I said, my voice low and fierce. "About being a mate, about being an Alpha, about you. Wrong about everything."

She looked up at me then, and I was startled to see the gleam of unshed tears in her eyes, quickly blinked away. "Maybe," she said, her voice steady despite the emotion I'd glimpsed. "I'm still figuring out what's right."

The simple honesty of that statement struck me more deeply than any diplomatic pledge or political alliance ever had. This wasn't a woman seeking advantage or position. This was someone trying to rebuild trust in herself, in the world, in the concept of partnership that had been so badly damaged for her.

"I'd like to help with that," I said quietly. "If you'll allow it."

She tilted her head, studying me with that perceptive gaze that seemed to see beyond the king to the man beneath. "Why?" she asked finally. "Why would the King care about helping one werewolf rediscover trust?"

"Because that werewolf is my mate," I answered simply. "Because two centuries of waiting has taught me that some things are worth more than crowns or traditions or the comfortable prejudices that have kept our kinds separate." I paused, choosing my next words carefully. "And because I believe that how we treat those we care about matters more than what we claim to stand for."

Emma was silent for a long moment, her gaze drifting back to the lake. The night sounds enveloped us – the gentle lap of water against the shore, the distant call of a night bird, the whispering rustle of leaves in the forest behind us. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but resolved.

"I can't promise anything," she said. "This is all... very unexpected. And complicated." Her eyes met mine again. "Being the mate of a werewolf Alpha nearly destroyed me. Being the mate of the Lycan King..." She shook her head, not finishing the thought.

"I'm not asking for promises," I assured her. "Just possibility. A chance. The chance to know each other beyond this one night, to see if what our wolves recognized so immediately is something we can build on." I smiled slightly. "At whatever pace feels safe to you."

Her shoulders relaxed fractionally, some tension I hadn't fully registered until it released ebbing away. "I think I can manage possibility," she said, a hint of that earlier warmth returning to her voice.

We sat in companionable silence for several minutes, watching the stars reflected in the dark water. The night wrapped around us like a living thing, separate from the political complexities that awaited us beyond this forest clearing. Here, we were simply Theodore and Emma, not king and subject, not Lycan and werewolf, just two souls connected by an ancient magic neither of us fully understood but both increasingly willing to explore.

"We should head back," Emma said eventually, though she made no immediate move to rise. "The summit continues tomorrow, and I'm sure you have ministerial corruption to address first thing."

I grimaced, reality intruding on our peaceful interlude. "Indeed. Minister Bennett's furniture purchases are just the beginning, I suspect."

She nodded, finally rising to her feet in one fluid motion. I followed, careful to move with deliberate smoothness rather than sudden speed. The consideration wasn't lost on her; I caught the flicker of recognition in her eyes, the small nod of appreciation.

"Thank you," she said, and I knew she meant more than just the evening's run.

"You're welcome," I replied, equally layered in meaning.