25. Two Little Words
Caspian
Seated at the dining room table in stunned silence, I’m unsure what I can possibly say to restore order. The volume of the Consort Elects’ voices climbs, and they’ve begun to sound like shrill housecats, hissing and snapping at one another. But before I arrive at a solution, there’s movement at the other end of the table that steals my attention away.
I peer up just as Annalise rises from her seat, not bothering to lay eyes on anyone as she seemingly dismisses herself from the table.
Frantic, I’m on my feet the next second. “Wait. Where are you going?”
The room goes silent, which I hadn’t expected given the way these women have carried on thus far tonight. I clear my throat, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically nervous. It’s dawned on me that my question to Annalise isn’t likely to be answered, considering she’s wanted nothing to do with me as of late. I’ve avoided trying to break the ice between us while in the presence of others, simply to save myself the embarrassment of being publicly rejected. But when I saw her preparing to leave, my heart couldn’t take it, and the words just sort of… jumped out of my mouth.
Poised and showing no sign of any emotion other than mild frustration, Annalise faces me, pushing her long, dark hair behind her shoulder as the other women stare.
“I’m returning to my room,” she says.
“So soon? Dinner hasn’t even been served yet.”
Her nostrils flare when she sighs, and that hint of frustration grows. “I’ve decided that my presence here isn’t necessary tonight.”
Her response is in line with her recent actions. It seems she’s gotten into the habit of making several split-second decisions for herself.
She flashes a look toward Wilhemena, then glances back toward me, awaiting my response, so I give her one.
“I disagree.”
Her nostrils flare again at those words, which means I’ve only pissed her off even more, but I can admit to not quite knowing what I’m doing right now. As a man who tends to think of himself as being poised under pressure, I feel… off. Like I’m no longer in control of my words or actions.
Annalise crosses both arms over her chest, arching a brow. “What does that mean?”
“It means that… I’ve come to believe that your presence is necessary everywhere.”
My breathing is shallow and uneven, adding to the feeling of lacking control. I’m not particularly fond of it, but I’m even less fond of seeing her walk out on me. Despite that she was content to completely ignore me before now, she’s been my one bright spot through the evening so far.
Even in her silence.
She sighs and squares her shoulders as that look on her face hardens. “Well, while it’s interesting that you feel this way, it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve had my fill for the evening,” she says. “But don’t fret. You’ve got plenty of company to keep you entertained in my absence.”
My heart races. Out of habit, I nearly demand that she take her seat and show me the respect I’m owed, but my ego is hobbled by emotion. Emotion incited by the thought of how quickly things have fallen apart, possibly having deteriorated beyond the point of repair. However, I don’t think I can stand being left alone—with these women I have no chance of connecting with, women who will never so much as hold a candle to her.
Annalise turns toward the door again, and that feeling of desperation grows, becoming the most powerful thing I’ve ever felt. It’s like a beast breathing down the back of my neck before burrowing itself deep inside my brain, becoming a part of me.
“Annalise, I… please…”
The room is somehow even more quiet than a moment ago, and the eyes of all three Consort Elects dart toward me. Before this, they’d been focused on Annalise, likely curious to see whether she’d actually walk out on me, their precious alpha . But now, as their stares burn into me, their jealousy is palpable. I’m certain it’s abundantly clear that Annalise has me in quite a state tonight—proof of her power over me. Without her, my title, my life, mean nothing, and I’ve slowly watched this reality unfold with every passing day. I want none of it. Not if the cost of ruling Clan Centauri is a future she wants no part of.
I see that now, as plain as day.
Our people are important to me, but being alpha is not everything.
She is everything.
“Annalise, I… I need you.” Hearing those words leave my mouth has me lightheaded, but I’ve never been mor honest. “It’s taken me far too long to see you—I mean truly see you—but I do. And I swear to you, I’ll never lose sight of your importance again.”
It’s a struggle having this conversation without being able to look into her eyes, but she still refuses to face me. The only indication that she’s listening at all is the slight heave of her shoulders when she breathes deeply. It gives me a small glimmer of hope that I might be getting through to her. But I need to do more. I need her to understand that this moment is important. It signifies the end of so many things, but most importantly… it could be the beginning of so much more.
Damn Aunt Pen for demolishing a perfectly solid plan.
But… gods bless her for helping me realize I almost ruined everything.
“Annalise…”
She starts toward the door again, and I bolt across the room to stop her, drawing a shocked gasp from Clementine. But I don’t care if my behavior surprises her or any of the others.
Analise doesn’t pull away, and I breathe a sigh of relief. This past week without her has been hell, and I don’t think I can stomach more distance.
“What do you want, Cas?”
She finally faces me and the question has me asking myself that very thing. What is it that I want exactly?
My breaths are quick and shallow as I search for the right words, words that will never come close to conveying what I feel, but I have to try.
“I want you, ” I admit. “I want to do the work to become the man you’d feel proud to call yours, the man you feel safe trusting with your heart.”
Her stare doesn’t soften as I speak, so I take things a step further and kneel before her, unafraid of what others might think or what rumors they might spread. I’ve spent far too many years caring what false narratives might be published about me. So, I’m choosing now to be honest, to remove all doubt about what message this moment is meant to convey.
“Annalise, I… I’m in love with you.”
Only now does her expression change. It shifts from hard and unfeeling to pure shock filling her eyes. She blinks, and I’m relieved to see tears threatening to spill over her lashes. It means she hasn’t cut off her emotions toward me.
It’s a small win, but I’ll take it.
“I beg your forgiveness. For everything. ”
The silence in the room is deafening as my staff and all three Consort Elects witness what is, hands down, my most vulnerable moment. But then, as I offer my bleeding heart to Annalise on a platter, a small piece of me dies. It’s at the feel of her gently pulling her hand free from mine, staring down on me as I struggle to grasp what’s happening.
“I don’t mean to hurt you,” she says softly, pushing a tear from her cheek. “But I can’t do this, Cas. After everything, after all I’ve forgiven, after I begged you not to take things this far, it’s… too late.”
My chest feels heavy as those two words reverberate in my thoughts, taunting me, mocking the fact that there was a line I crossed that pushed her over the limit. And now, I’m forced to live with the truth.
That I’m too late.
Her gaze lingers. Just long enough to convey that this isn’t some attempt at goading me into pleading any harder than I already have, but rather that she simply means what she said.
After a moment, she turns and walks toward the exit where two stunned waiters rush to open the doors for her. And as they slam shut behind her, my heart shatters right where she left it on the floor.
I feel gutted, completely hollowed out, and there’s no one to blame but myself.
Once I find the strength, I stand to my feet having no clear plan as to what I’ll do next. For all I know, Annalise is right. I’m too late, and thanks to me, we’re too broken.
As I start toward the exit, I hear measured footsteps approaching. “Sir, what shall I do about your guests?” Archibald whispers, and my answer to him is simple.
“I don’t care.”
“Sir? I thought?—”
“Send them home, Archibald. It’s over.”